Where I live now is under my care And I do realize that. It needs care, Which I am allowing for that although All it requires sometimes tugs My soul hard Both for the sorrow remembered as for How sometimes things done well promises Perhaps harmony again.
Most of the day has been spent Working in the yard, clipping and Replanting, getting dirty. My friend walks past anything green Reaches out to pet or trim and admire All its beauty While considering what Can she do to make it Healthier, and happier.
Painted, on an old painting, after Seeing so much in it I do not like, Just wasn’t working. Thinking about what I did I see In this that originally made me want To paint it Simplified and reworked it back To a place that is allowing me to Again like it.
“The achievements of exile are permanently undermined by the loss of something left behind forever” Some days I am held up by achievements incredible. Others? Undermined but what’s Left behind forever. Either way, I believe now both carry a deep caring for the life-forwarding need To express love.
Rode today with friends, rode. Part of this working farm Includes space, views and quiet. Yet, too quiet now is Not so good As life for me envelopes more quiet than often I can cope. Yet, throwing a leg over the two horses today was good, Riding is good Where, would I go? What, would I gain, would I loose? Why would I stay, really, why. And why would I go? I want To be rooted.
Status quo is no longer I just want to go back...as, there is no back. Whether I wish or not, status quo Is now changed And while the memories of the heart hold dear, Concern is where will my status quo go, where Shall life continue. Four years out and still sometimes, the enormity Of the change just overwhelms. Where do I need To be now?
Read today:...”we see every adverse situation as a challenge to restore ourselves to the status quo ante. You know the refrain: I just want To go back to how things were. This seem shortsighted. How things were might well have led you to the ways things have woefully become”. from In Light of What we Know - Zia Haider Rahman
Worked in the yard today planting the plants I brought from mom’s; as if certainly I‘ll be here Long enough to see these grow and spread. And considering that makes me queasy, Makes me wonder, Have I been here already too long? Reminding me: this is my only life. Now, consider that.
Came up to visit, placed a rose For you with love, and Shared a beer. You didn’t mind, did you, I goofed, T’was hard cider. Then thought about The newest car You are again getting for my mother. With you in my memory, walking with me, I'll do it.
Up early and away for the long drive north Go-gos sleeping quietly in back we arrive Finally, to find The cars at my mother’s all undone, hers fatally. I wonder, had I not arrived now, when ever would I had learned.
Tywla Tharp's words of the muse “That for whom I long to labor” Has hovered in my mind a long time, not at all clear. For what “That”, and “whom”? To my question a friend did reply: "That for whom I long to labor Is something inside me, another voice that speaks...to me. It is Like the wind, Sometimes blowing long and hard, forcing me to bend in its direction. Other times, so gentle a breeze, I need be so still to feel, to not move too quickly, strongly. That 'wind' within is for whom I labor, even when it isn't there, treasuring the times I feel it strongly, it makes the laboring easier".
It is late afternoon and I am not sitting on your bench but Rather on the deck, reading, writing and allowing ideas, Thoughts to bloom In my mind as the breezes cross my face, silk on skin, While the dogs lay underfoot and I imagine life here Or anywhere else With only myself and to wonder, what and where and how I am considering such. And before all that why would I have such.
A day of greeting folks as they came through my friend’s door To see our work hanging on the walls throughout the house. I enjoy it. And that some painting are bought, sweet. And as the sun dropped, I packed up my paintings and fed, walked the dogs and then, Made my dinner, Thinking about being alone in a place other than our home and Putting on a little house like a potential garment that possibly might, Even alone, fit.
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.