Green Splendor

The skies darkening...the rumble of distant thunder. And still - I stayed. Eyes riveted on the scene unfolding. Feet rooted to the ground.

I knew it was time to seek shelter...and - yet - I couldn't move.

It was the green. It was the color. It was - as if - I'd never seen anything quite like it..ever before. It was the light. It was the lack of it. It was - as if - I'd never seen so much brightness in spite of all that was getting so dark.

My sweet pup - trembled. She quivered and shook and huddled in close...preparing for the storm to come.

I knew it was time to get myself doing...but - I wasn't yet done.

That first real rain. The explosion of so many greens. Their beauty. Their color-filled majesty. Their splendor and wonder.

And then - with one loud clap of overhead thunder - I knew it was time. Me and my sweet pup - together - made a mad and crazy dash for shelter....where we found ourselves safe and dry.

True Colors

It occurred to me - how similar they are. The colors of new spring...and those of old fall. At first glance - they look so very different. Upon a second look - they are really so much the same.

It reminded me that with each ending..something new begins...and with each new beginning..something old ends. When one door closes..a window opens. With each autumn leaf that falls...a new bud blossoms.

We shed our old selves...to grow into the new. We make space...for our new becomings. And yet - at the heart of it all....our colors remain true.

Endings and beginnings. Doors and windows. Old leaves and new. One season...and always - another. So different...and yet so much the same.

Art Saves

I didn't think I was looking...but maybe - I was? I didn't even think I'd found it...but maybe - I did?

I imagined the sun setting...and the world of nocturnal weavers rising. I imagined the beginnings. One little thread..and then another. One little loop around and then back again and again and again after that.

I wondered if each new beginning is hard for them. I wondered if they meet up with resistance and fear. I wondered at how they managed to rise above it...and show up...and do it anyway. I marveled at their abiity to let go of the need to perfect...and - at the same time - to produce such exquisitely imperfect beauty.

Of course - they're just being who they are...doing what they know and do best. These nocturnal weavers create out of habit. They do what they do to survive and thrive...to live for another day on this planet.

Funny how life's lessons so often present themselves. We - mere mortal four legged creatures - could learn so much from them. If we could all simply create - as they do - out of habit...we'd be making our 'art' essential and necessary to our existance and survival.

Because - isn't it true? That it's our creativity and art that sustains and maintains. That it's our art that saves us.