Just another WebsiteHabitat T.H.U.M.B.S. Service site
As I was painting the other night, I watched in wonder as the blue watercolor paint that I dropped on my palette formed itself into a beautiful butterfly.
And I thought I was the one who was doing the painting! 🙂
Apparently I’m not the only one.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just released into the flow of life happening. Maybe life would just create itself. And maybe it would be beautiful.
We are finally coming out of hibernation and walking the dogs at the park again, and all of us are SO ready to come out of our cave.
We are finding many delights to behold in our “new world.”
We discovered these leaves floating in a stream of water, created by recent rainfall, and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful they still are, after being pounded, beaten, shaken, and blown all winter, by raging winds, blizzards, and unprecedented cold.
How far they are now from the lush greens of summer, but they are still offering the beauty of a tapestry of color and form on an asphalt parking lot.
One of the delights of the Best Year Ever is feeling infinitesimal.
When I gaze at the moon and the stars and the color of the night sky, I feel very small.
For some reason, this gives me comfort. Takes the pressure off.
In one way, we all matter, we do. And we are all essential to the fullness of life’s extraordinary tapestry.
In another, what we are, and what we do, are unimaginably miniscule. What a relief!
This view took my breath away.
In the luxury of longer days, I often take the dogs for a walk at dusk, because there are so many small feasts for the eyes to behold. It always seems like such a magical time of day, one of transition and ephemeral beauty.
When I saw the moon illuminating the bare branches of the trees, I saw a map in my imagination, a squirrel highway or gymnasium, and I wondered how free it would feel to be able to fly along those branches, high above, as if on a trapeze of life.
On our morning walk, this beautiful reflection caught my eye.
What I noticed was that the reflection was far more colorful than the landscape that it was reflecting.
How does that work?
Magic, everywhere. Best Year Ever.
It is ironic to me that one of the very first signs of new life in spring is one of the most colorful things that I see during the whole year.
And that one of the most fragile-looking is actually one of the strongest, pushing its way up through semi-frozen ground, in the time of year where snow and ice can still come at any moment.
Nature gifts me with some of the most powerful examples of perseverance, inevitability, and endurance that I have in my life, and these blossoms certainly represent those qualities for me.
Today is a celebration of new life, hardy and whole.
This year has been about exploring whether a Best Year Ever can be about the small moments, the ordinary and the everyday, rather than the “big moments” of our lives.
Here is a frozen waterfall, created by the slow and continuous drips of water as they travel down, through the drainpipe, from the snow gradually melting on the roof of our house. It takes a long time for one of these to form, and it takes the exact right circumstances for it to form. Just the right temperatures over just the right amount of time. Nature as sculptor, creating something in the most lowly of places, right by the recycling bins.
This is a perfect example of one of those ordinary things that is really extraordinary, if we notice and attend to it. A beautiful ice sculpture, available for my delight, by just stopping and noticing it.
It’s been a long and brutal winter for us here in Northern Illinois.
What I love about Winter is that it is a time of incubation. Things are doing the preparation that they need in order to grow in the Spring, and this is the opportunity for us humans also, in Winter.
However, there comes a time when the energy begins to move again, like it wants to move, grow, and express. It is done with incubating. We are all feeling a bit of that impulse here now.
So it is with joy and celebration that I discovered these snowbells, a true harbinger of Spring. They are the leading edge of momentum, and I am thrilled to see them leading the charge.
When I look at them, I feel all the hope that comes with the edge of momentum.
I love this quote by Vincent van Gogh.
To do something in love, for me, means that I must slow down from my normal pace and feel my love for what I am doing. I consciously come into the presence of love. My heart often has a different rhythm than my doing self.
This is why I appreciate van Gogh’s quote so much. It reminds me to come into the presence of love.
When I come into the presence of love, I do things well, and with love.
And then I see things differently. I catch other people’s love, because I’m tuned into love.
I enjoy doing visual journaling while I have my morning tea. I draw a simple picture and do some writing along with it.
This practice brings me into the present moment, so it’s a meditative way to start my day.
I had been using a plain journal with artist’s markers, similar to magic markers that kids use. This was a simple process that honored my creative flow.
However, for a while, I have done this practice intermittently, in spite of its value to me. So, I began to get really curious about why I didn’t do it consistently. I started looking at what I might be telling myself about it that could be getting in the way of my doing it every morning.
As soon as I started looking at my thoughts and feelings about this practice, I realized that artist’s markers weren’t “my thing” (ie, my native style). I draw with ink and watercolor, and yet I wasn’t using my native style with this visual journaling routine.
Amazingly, I wasn’t conscious of making this choice! I had somehow told myself that ink and watercolor would take too long, and that the markers would be more expedient.
I decided to revert to using ink and watercolor to draw while I have my morning tea, and to see what happened. The results are incredible! I’m enjoying it even more. I’m doing it consistently. It really primes the pump for my creative flow during the day. I look forward to doing it, so much! And, it doesn’t take any longer than when I was doing it with the markers. (Busted!)
If you have something that means a lot to you, but you find yourself not doing it, I’d recommend that you explore what you are telling yourself about it. You might just be surprised at the answer.
