About change

Awoke to stillness again, the dead hush that only snow can bring……. so peacful. A wintry white blanket with snow swirling in the blustery wind. Not a day to venture out. thank goodness work is no more than 30 paces away from my front door !

So where does the change come in ! well I have been sewing, sewing a quilt, still not finished, so many squares and rectangles to sew, I am beginning to get bored of sitting at the machine. So this evening in quiet meditation practice, I just took a pencil and let it roam around the page. shapes were forming, I shaded and moulded them and hey presto this is what materialised. A complete change to sewing, just me, stillness, pencil and paper and The Mother Tree

THE MOTHER TREE

adoration

 

adoration

 

This is a sketch I have done, it forms part of a larger sketch of a mass of entwined bodies.   The idea came to me as I was doodling around on a piece of paper whilst chatting on the phone.  I saw this mass as a kind of huge conical shape rising from a wide based pedestal, sculpted from fine porcelain and glazed white.  Just like a huge cake !!  I hope to get around to doing that one day………………….  I love to paper cut but not sure this would transfer to that medium, perhaps I should try.

I will not die an unlived life

In the summer of 2008 I spent a magical weekend with friends at Glastonbury, Isle of Avalon.

During the weekend I was read this poem, it really touched me,  at that time I had drawn a whole series of sketches, one seemed to illustrate these words perfectly………….   what do you think?  The poem is by Dawna markova, a lady who has single handedly changed the live of so many.  see her blog at http://dawnamarkova.blogspot.com/

morphing-27-small-file-72dpi1I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear of  falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid,

more accessible;

to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing,

a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance,

to live so that which came to me as seed

goes to the next as blossom,

and that which came to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit.

 

by Dawna Markova