My heart is poured out like water.
My bones are scattered.
My heart, like wax, is melted.
Miraculously, the sun shines here this morning, setting aglow a sycamore tree outside my window. I am delighted by this quiet beauty here at home, yet a feeling of deep sadness echoes in my heart.
Yes, and. As it goes most of the time these days.
I talked with a dear friend in Australia yesterday. A long overdue delicious conversation, rich with traded thoughts on writing, art, friendship and of course, the fires raging there and the crack-pot politics of both our countries.
It is all so much to take in, really. The news from there in Oz, the war-drum-beating antics of the leadership in this country, the climate deniers in both.
Fear and fire, mayhem and madness.
I attempt, this morning, to find quiet in all of it somehow.
And I suppose, the usual paths will just have to do.
My work, both here in the studio and at my beloved day-job. Moving my body to remind myself to remain there as I am prone to jettison at times. Resting my mind – careful and mindful as to what is permitted to take root there. Always a delicate balance.
There is nothing I can do just now with regard to the bush fires in Australia, or the beating on the drums of war by my own government. But I can sow a bit of kindness where I can when I go out into the world today. I can keep to my work of depth and beauty, in spite of and perhaps because of what is going on in the world at large. It is challenging.
We must keep faith, we quiet artists, hiding in the sidelines of things. But this can change the world. At least on a small scale. If this is all we can do, for now, today, then we must do it.
Sending love and thoughts for gentle rains to Australia.