Never
fear that there is no creative energy left in you and that your time with the
palette is done. I feared the void. I stayed away from my writing area as if it
were contagious. Endless space, alone, cold, and without meaning, the void has
been around. Sometimes, like a predator, it stays just outside the perimeter of
my fire. It is loneliness. My marsh buddy, Mrs. Teale, once asked me, ‘How is
your loneliness doing?” She could have smacked me on the hand with a bamboo
stick. Is it odd that my loneliness was
a companion? We think we can control time. We track it, set limits for this
activity or date memories. It’s just not feasible. The sun, the moon rise, the
birds sing aubades, the morning songs, and some even the night songs. Night
closes down and shadows caused by the sun disappear with the evening songs.
Loneliness is like time. I am uncertain if it is the void but it exists. And it
is doing just fine.
from
bird dreams, riding hope, - sometimes a fable, weaving our connections to birds, meandering rivers and dragons, fermenting
miso and consciousness,
wetlands,
our extended kin and ancestors, our mentors, and Wisdom.
Inspired
by actual events and a sense of place and belonging by a woman who addresses
the reader on behalf of the earth
thank you for your support
No comments:
Post a Comment