Mosaic Moment

October 2, 2017.  A few days ago, on a ranch out in the Texas hill country, a group of us  spread ourselves out for individual silent contemplative wanders.  Our intended focus: “Earth connection”.   I headed for the labyrinth, which consistently helps me focus … and is made of Nature’s materials.

Even on the labyrinth, focus is vulnerable to the unexpected.  But then, paying attention to Nature’s surrounding energies is, in fact, connecting with Earth.

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Humming

September 6, 2017. Still on edge from Hurricane Harvey assaulting the Texas coast, I now watch with great distress as Hurricane Irma targets to pass directly over my former home in Florida.  I watch with empathy for all in Irma’s pathway – the reality of Houston-area aftermath so raw, and Florida may get even more devastation.

But along with property damages, storm refugees, and gasoline supply panics, I cannot help notice all the fresh blooms arrived in response to the abundant rain here on Harvey’s fringe.  The bees are noticing, too – so eager that I smile in spite of tensions.

And when I finally find pumps with gasoline, I look at the others eagerly filling their vehicles – all of us somehow friendlier with strangers than usual – smiling, waving.  We’re like the bees, buzzing after our fuel.  Quite the energy hum.

The collage mixes found human-essential images with bee photos from my backyard.

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Grasping

March 26, 2016.  This is my mother’s birthday, and I have spent it (somewhat oddly) thinking about another’s mother – Mom Kendrick.   This began in the wee hours piecing together how various rooms connected in the house I grew up in – yielding a flawed floorplan – but the sketching helped connect some dots of memories sabotaging sleep. For example, in the back bedroom helping Mother put up new wallpaper; and in the living room gleefully lending a hand the day a wallpaper pro pulled down the stained red roses that had covered those walls as long as I was old.

It fascinates – how memories overlap and create a loosely-woven backdrop for what’s going on in the present.  Foorplan struggles were followed by not knowing where the pretty crystal near the kitchen door came from.  I’m getting older, forgetting more!  What to do?   Gary’s mom zooms to mind, her habit of labeling everything.  On the surface, her labels seemed foolish.  But perhaps essential to her?  How many were created in sleepless fits?  I’m not about to label every souvenir rock, but here’s a nod to Mom Kendrick for aging and recording her own way – poetry serving as my way to record life.

The image (a collage) assumes a bit of poetic license – the floorplan  (not true to scale) and the crystal are not in true proportion.

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