I’m all over the place these days. Life is speedy and I’m slow and so I’m trying to hang on during this crazy train ride while painting with one hand and juggling words in my spare time. Poetry, tarot cards, candles and incense, cleaning up after the cat and washing the dishes three times a day, keeping myself clean and dressed and fed, feeding my family, precious sleep, brewing and consuming coffee and espresso, sweeping the floor, watching the moon and more–breathe.
Breathe. How often do we tune into our breath? I’ve been tuning out from it lately, caught up in some storm of fire and air. Elements. How attuned are we to the elements around us? I watched the rain yesterday, stood with an umbrella and noted the places the water was pooling in my back yard. I’m anticipating spring, thinking native plants and what to plant in the wet places. Wetlands, red-winged blackbirds. We don’t have those around here but I love them, watched them for over an hour one slow day in Pullman, Washington. I listened to their songs and speech and let it flow through me, into me, over me. I never understood it but I shared some space with it, and time.
Our ideas about time are disturbed and changing. What only goes forward and not back? What only goes up and not down? Do we think time flows only in one direction? Can we send hope and prayers into the past? Can we ask questions of the future? Most importantly, can we tune into now?
There’s an electronic circus everywhere, every moment, a ridiculous distraction from the red-winged blackbirds, from breathing. Turn it off, at least for an hour. Disconnect from this screen, shut it down. Go outside, walk, sit, stay inside and paint, dance, sing. Break that routine, the one that they habituated us to when we were in school. School yourself.
Chaos is creative and creativity is chaotic, at least for a while. Order can arise from chaos. Most important is to have faith, to see that there is some large pattern and another one overlaying that, and it’s good to hear the overtones and the songs that are laid over the songs.
Can we shape our beliefs, turn our faith into an action, a persistent activity to create a more humane life for ourselves and our loved ones? Can we expand our circle of love into a sphere, then see that the sphere is only a bubble, precious and prone to popping, floating in an ocean of bubbles, needing to connect in order to grow and change? Pop!
Death, dissolution, restructure. The colors loop all over the place, leave us here, disassociated from what we thought we knew, just a patchwork mess of souls blurring together.
How big is karma anyway?