Consciousness commands
a shift of focus
tired of the clash of colours
stimulation overload
my muse is leaning towards
the nuance of black and white
A study of shadows
and shading
and how light
arouses the soul
Speak to me in subtleties
she whispers
in tones suggestive
of hidden depths
I am listening
And so I submerge myself
clear the palette of vibrant hues
and take up the lowly pencil
seek the promise
in a colourless world.
(Art my own)
Hubby says it is the best dish I have ever made. So tasty! The secret? Keep it simple and let the flavours of the garden speak for themselves.
Feeling like this cat in the long grass – unable to see what’s ahead and patiently (or impatiently) watching for a sign.
Tasks are lined up this morning to prepare for another house showing, and then the wait.
And so it goes.
Emotional economy
in state of collapse
What fallacy is this;
what trigger shook me?
Horror-filled insomnia
possesses my psyche
It’s been 50 year since the fall –
why process now?
(Image my own)
We are definitely in the throes of transition – the house is for sale, we can’t commit to a rental unit until we have a closing date, and so, everything is uncertainty at the moment.
We clutch at hopeful signs only to be disappointed. The couple who spent over an hour during the Open House have now decided to wait a year before moving. The man who showed so much interest was met with resistance from his wife.
Ups and downs.
I try to remember to breathe and be open to the process.
There is peace to be had, but only if I make room for it.
Sigh.
Evening light casts a hopeful glow
A gentle summer breeze harmonizes
shadows fascinate, stretching into mystery
My breathing, shallow, betrays the mood
Uncertainty an unforgiving foe –
soul whispers a prayer of longing
A swarm of winged insects dance
where walnut branches part
undaunted by ensuing dark
My wings, folded in doubt’s wake,
weigh heavily on anticipation –
a learned habit of mine
Sun lingers in this season
of emerald charm, and I am reminded
that time evokes change, and I too
Am but a part of nature’s cycle
and what worry robs me of now
will not find its rhythm in Winter’s chill.
(Image my own)
Back to back showings and an Open House Saturday, and I’m falling into the perfectionism trap.
Then I found this note I’d written to my younger self:
Discard the concept of perfection:
choose to embrace vulnerability
and imperfection as fertile ground.
Taking comfort in my own words.
One Woman's Quest 