Thought for The Day - Fall, Saturdays

A day off, the "to-do" list extensive, the "if-I-had-time-for" list much longer and buried beneath necessity. Saturdays in the fall: haircuts, grocery shopping, raking leaves, clipping branches and cleaning gutters. Taking the car to a repair shop for winterizing, or the latest round of repairs.

Saturday afternoons are now spent with a palette in one hand, a brush in the other, standing or sitting in front of a canvas.  A ride in the car is filled with adventure, absorbing the many colors of leaves changing before falling to the ground. Maybe I'll open the sunroof to get a bit of fresh air. Maybe I'll treat myself to walk along a stream somewhere. Or maybe I'll catch a quick nap and dream...

Saturday night is relaxing and tranquil. As I get older, I miss the Saturday nights when I went to a jazz club to hear a group perform. Nothing fancy, some local talent playing through their usual set. It was an opportunity to see what the rest of the world was doing and hear good music. In this period of transition - isn't every "period" a time of transition - there is a reflection of the past, measuring the present and hoping for ______ in the future.

It's Saturday, it's Fall and the season is changing...

Thought for The Day - Changes

Phoenix 18 x 24 pastels

How much of our updating, revamping, swapping out the old for the new, is external? How often do we 'change' and oh so fundamentally remain the same? If the constant changes in life leave us unchanged, then what does that say about our character? Is it a solid iron being incapable of changing?

We sit in a seat on our patio, watching the trees bud, the breeze moving the branches and twigs. The buds become leaves, green and full and the temperature warms up and the sun hangs in the sky longer, until we see shelter from it all. But soon the wind changes and the leaves as well; they become brown, orange and red and fall, leaving the trees bare once again. But in all the changes for the tree, it has grown; it's gained more branches, veins and it's trunk, thicker. Even if you trim the tree, it continues to grow fuller...funny how that happens.

Difficulty, hardship, struggle, even tragic loss has an effect on each of us. A person cannot remain innocent and unfettered by this world. Some say we should not operate from our 'ego,' instead from our heart and soul. But our ego serves to protect us, albeit, 'over-compensate,' at times. And yet, in the final analysis, we will have lived life as best we could, some epic fails and moments of pure ecstasy. And if remain open to the many lessons and experience life brings, we are as fluid as mercury and solid as an iron statue.

Peace

Be.

Thought for The Day - Fall and River

Fall and River 12 x 18 pastels

Colors, dulling as the days shrink, the water still flows to the ocean...

It is all miraculous and yet so commonplace, we treat it as common. We have our moments, those isolated fragments of time when we put aside anxiety and see with the eyes of a child, sunlight twinkling through the mesh of leaves and tree limbs. We gaze, every now and then, at a night sky, where the moon shines its halogen glow, a few stars spot the indigo, drowned out by the glow of cities too afraid to sleep.

The river still flows...

There are parts of our life that won't stop 'cause I'm stressing! Farmers are out at 5:00 am, working their land, trying to get that paper, while someone's mom stands on a bus stop to get to that job, with a limited return. Her life is the neighborhood, this bus, her kids and the old storefront church where she's been on the nurse's board for 25 years. The river flows from one generation to another.

Leaves holding summer's warmth in it's fading colors...

The cool weather lasts longer than the dawn, insulating your thoughts, slowing down the pace of life way past getting to work or school. It's like someone stole heat and sunny days; we forget summer's warmth and try to get it in chicken noodle soup or a bowl of chili, the lure of bright colored Halloween personalities, before we settle at the table for Thanksgiving turkey. Passing from one mile marker to the next, brown and black hair replaced by silver, white and grey. A swagger becomes a slurred shuffle, limbs growing tired from carrying dreams that never seem to hatch. Life goes on, but it goes on without us...sometimes...