My nickname has been "the bird" since I was a little girl. A name I was given by my dad when I was roughly three years of age and trying to fly with determination and utter disregard for life and limb. The name stuck. I have been changing the idea of "flying" away and toying with the idea of "staying"and opening to the uncertainties of life. Several years ago I did a series of self portraits embracing various expressions of the psyche. Recently, I have found myself drawing again. In fact I began this drawing, 11x14 graphite, two nights ago and although it is far from complete I am sharing it. While working on it I found myself becoming ridiculously giddy. Then the thought hit me right between the eyes ..."THE BIRD". My nickname. And I have been laughing ever since.
When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.
Comments
Perfect.