Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Spring... the ideal metaphor for life, the awakening: dormant bulbs that rise, cracking open the winter-hard earth; the miracle of trees, seemingly barren, suddenly laden with buds sprouting at the tips of once empty branches. The beauty of a still morning, silence broken by birds that call through now-opened windows. And the storm that strikes here and there and there... violence wrenching apart the calm, torrents of rain puddling on saturated ground and clouds, beautiful purple-gold bellies turned to gray rage, swirling masses capable of the ultimate destruction. Then the aftermath, a step taken out the door that reveals washed, dazzling brick and pavement and rooftop, enveloped by the warmer air perfumed with hyacinth, lilies, nectar dripping from God's own hand.
The seasonal roller coaster also wreaks havoc on my joints and absorbs my energy and passion drained despite the splendor of dogwood and cherry blossoms. Such effort to quell the frustration caused by the familiar inability to control my energy, schedule my time, any more than I can leash the lightening that rakes the night sky; and then the lucid awareness after the weeks surrendered and I find myself aware now of the distance since I have written, captured the ideas, dreams, fears and essence of my life journey.
I have woken to find that swaps and posts and comments have, thankfully, continued in my absence. That artists and fellow travelers on this creative path still walk, albeit the many shared words of silence, lack of time, creative energy, ability to make the art that saves our very souls and then post it for the people whose lives have enriched ours and to whom we feel connected as kindred spirits despite distance, differing life circumstances, degrees of activity.
The raging beauty of stormy spring has broken to reveal a voice that revives, whispers of all that beckons, a still-life jarring to wild splashes of color, the renewal energy, and with it, hope.