Friday, November 18, 2016
Somewhere, up there,
There is blue sky.
The herons are content
To see their reflections
In the generous water
In which accumulates
The memories of trees
And resting frogs.
|A Thoughtful Heron|
collage, mixed media
A heron had a conversation with a frog.
"You. You! You sleep all winter deep in the mud where no one can see you. All summer, I walk in the mud and hunt you."
The frog was silent for a while then it spoke to the heron.
"I like sleeping in the mud all winter. It makes my skin soft, you should try it sometime. I adapt and accept. This hibernation (or whatever you call it) is my Heaven. It is my dream state. The mud is everything. Without it you'd have no place to stand and hunt. Why, the river would have no bed. It would flow constantly, impoverished with no place to rest until it squandered itself in the ocean far away."
The heron was confused. Frogs! He spread his wings and swept off downriver in search of fish.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Monday, October 24, 2016
I attended worship at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. yesterday morning. They put on a great show and the building itself is the proverbial "sermon in stone." The ribs vault skyward into and through fields of colored light splashed by an ebullient stained glass Pollock. The darkened crypts and chapels below grade promise communion and acceptance of one's earthy limitations augmented by glittering lamp-lit mosaics telling stories of flesh and spirit sorting out their differences.
Naturally, I listen better (or at least tolerate better) the pomp and complexity of any dogma or catechism when I have a pencil in my hand. Me: always backing up into the spiritual realms hoping to vault into those spangled skies.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Bird People live in a Bird City. What could be more obvious?