Just past the Autumnal Equinox and into the home stretch for the Winter Solstice, kale and chard are going strong, beets and carrots are neck and neck to the top of the soil, the birds are feasting on sunflowers and berries and the lettuce takes its sweet time.
This place, this earth is so well organized, so well expressed. I have only to notice what is here to see it. Of course it’s what I already know so the stretch is not mine. I visit my father’s mind in this mode of wondering what I eat from the garden that I do not see and what do I not eat because I can’t see it.
I walk around waiting to bump into something I don’t know and wonder if wondering is enough to manifest. I think of the tales of the Europeans who came to distant shores where the inhabitants could not see them and were overtaken and think if we don’t open to mystery we too will be doomed to repeat failure.
In my work with artists and all those in transition, I ask that habits be renegotiated, simple as using a different hand to reach or the other foot to lead, difficult as not giving the voice of resistance its due. Letting the light of appreciation be on fully, floating in the sea of possibility, willing and able and full of expectation at the edge of unknown to find there is no edge, only open sea.
Or, in Ivy’s case, the possibility to sleep, perchance to dream.