Tag Archives: birds

Sources of Brilliance, Such as We Are

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digital drawingTropical Splash

A-chatter in the curling fronds, the wet-leafed canopy, the ponds,

Among the tangled twining root of every vine-choked tree’s broad foot,

Wild birds spread out their neon wings in this green palace of such kings,

Shout to a sun that’s seldom seen, deep in this hot palace of green,

But bring a blaze that’s all their own, as bright as such a place has known.

Take flight! Take wing! Aim for the sun–race with them upward, every one,

Above the canopy, to see whether a sun can really be;

And if it’s not, let no bleak night deter a second from our flight:

Upward and forward, light or none, we always ought to seek the sun–

And if not found, our calling is that we must light these palaces.

The Song Rises above All Else

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When the night is long and the day after it dawns dark and grim, sing.photoWhen winter is colder than the inmost heart of death and is finally supplanted by the least promising spring, empty of graces and starved for new, green life, sing again and sing out loudly as you can.

When age and infirmity and dangers of every kind are buffeting all the lovely youth and strength they can find in this sad world into terrible dust-devils of desiccated sorrow, sing with all your heart and soul and make the most tuneful, joyful, glorious prettiness that you can float into the air, and know that your song, no matter how wholly alone it may float up, is powerful enough to rise above it all. This is the only way that any of us will rise above it all. And that we will, so long as we sing.photo

Roaming amid the Riches

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photoDreamlike days wandering leisurely about in a favorite place . . . if there’s a heaven, it will have had stiff competition from certain days on earth. Yesterday here in San Francisco continued to be spectacularly sunny and full of the usual beloved scenery, friendly folk and delectable dining (more on that tomorrow). The air was filled with floral exuberance, food-stall enticements, salt tang from the waterfront, and the sounds of birds, humans and cable car bells all singing of happiness. Bicyclists jostled for space with meandering pram pushers, pedestrians, cars, buses, trolleys and hand-carts.photo

I forget, between times, what a vertical city SF is, not only in its hilly terrain but in the many buildings and monuments that spike up in a fountain-like spray of height and the tall trees all around and the masts of innumerable boats and ferries as one nears the waterfront. I think somehow this raises my spirits as well, a little like the developers of the High Gothic style’s vertical temples of pillars and points aimed at Heaven. Thanks to a Muni passport for occasional breaks from the walking, it’s still a magnificent city for traipsing around on foot for most of the day without flagging too badly. Being elated by the beauty all the livelong day, I am distracted from any such mundane concerns as it is.photo

And it’s nearing time to do just this again today, so I shall leave you with some more glimpses of our happy peregrinations.photo

Because I’m told that Sharing is a good thing.digital painting from a photo

Companionship or Conspiracy

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P&I + textP&I + textP&I + text

Black & White in a World of Color

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digital painting from a photoI was just strolling along and running errands, minding my own business, when I spotted this little twosome toddling along a nearby lawn. The way that they bobbed in unison, then in counter-rhythms, then in unison again, side by side, made me think of piano keys. They were like visual music, these birds, unselfconsciously creating a silent but cheering melody as they made their way across the grass. And they were in sharp contrast, being mainly black and white, to the Technicolor world all around them which suddenly seemed a little dull and plebeian by comparison.

And I thought, that’s how art works for me. It’s not that it’s always spectacular in its showy presence, brilliantly executed or wildly original–just that it strikes me at the right time and in the right way to make me see both the art and its context a little bit differently. It’s one of the reasons that I so love black and white visual artworks, in fact: that the simple removal of the known and expected colors of the subject can make me see the mundane as magical and contemplate the distinct wonders of things that ordinarily I might pass by without noticing. I suppose it would be good if I could learn to do this with a whole lot more of my world a whole lot more often, and perhaps I would refresh my sense of wonder enough to truly appreciate how fantastic ‘ordinary’ life really is.photo montage

A Mockingbird Appears

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photoWhen ideas and inspiration have ceased, at least for the time being, to well up from the inside, it’s a mercy that the wide world contains so many and will hand them to me if I keep my senses ready enough. I often find myself too distracted by the busyness and pedestrian chores of the workaday world to see the magical other dimensions right within my reach, and need some helpful pricking from a sight or sound or scent as I pass through to remind me to open up the eye and ear and heart and take advantage of the universe’s generosity when it’s poured out so liberally right within my grasp.photoI walk in a haze of dully daily thought, lost to the world of rich and rare delights I’m walking in, when suddenly a mockingbird appears and turns its bright eye on me and seems to contemplate how absent I must be to almost pass it by when it’s quite nearly underfoot. In that shining eye a world reflects in which the other me is wrapped around with blooms, with drifting clouds sailing across a broad blue sky; with jasmine-scented breeze, with mist as the sprinklers spring to life, with happy shouts from a handful of little playing school kids passing me, looking for miracles of their own everywhere because they are yet too young to have forgotten them so foolishly as I have done. When the bird takes to its stripe-blazed wings and dives back into the air, my thoughts begin to follow and fly with it again: I am awake once more to flight and tune in to the rippling, rolling variations of its song as it rises to the trees, and soars above, and makes me remember that I am in a world full of wonder, if I will only let it fill me again.graphite drawing

Gleaming Afternoon

While I would soar, would gladly fly

Wide, in an arc across the sky

Whose dome of hotly burnished brass

Encompasses at every pass

The great wild height of atmosphere

That would engage to hold me here,

I can, eyes shut and spirit wide,

Pierce heaven to the great Outside.

Magical Night & Mystic Day

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photoEnchantments

One night I stood upon the green

And every nightingale a-wing

Stopped in the linden trees to sing,

A perfect choir though all unseen,

Encircling in the meadow’s crown—

Night-blooming flowers ‘round my feet

Reflected moonglow, and their sweet,

Sweet breath rose up as stars fell down

In meteor showers to earth because

Its beauty was so great, so dear,

They longed to draw the night sky near

To all this peacefulness that was—

And while I stood upon that lawn,

Aching with joy, with ecstasy

As sharp as ice and flame in me,

I woke full wide, and it was dawn.photo

The day that came up in that place

Made all the green-wood hum and quake

With quivering for pleasure’s sake,

At seeing the full sun’s clear face,

Yet, basking in the softest fall

Of constant rain, as mist, to fly

In colored arcs across the sky

And shower prisms on us all—

The birds of day joined in that hymn

And coaxed the foxes to the green,

Contented beasts not often seen

In sun, and as I stood, a slim

Grey foal came, too, and nine or ten

Of rabbits, and the beasts all danced,

And I stood still, transfixed—entranced—

And blinked my eyes, and it was night.digitally painted photo

What, were You Born in a Barn?!

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ink drawingWhy, yes I was, thank you. Well, not literally, but hey, we’re all animals, so if I revert to form occasionally, I can hardly be faulted for it. If I step in something nasty from time to time, chances are pretty good that something is of my own manufacture, I’ll grant you, but there is some comfort in knowing we all do the same, that others are as fallible and foible-filled as I am. Mostly if it appears that anyone gives the appearance of perfection, it’s got more to do with one of two things: either they’re more skilled than average at a quick cover-up, recovery or diversion, or they simply don’t do that much–act, change, live–so they’re just playing the odds for an easier win.graphite drawing

I’ve come to terms, I think, with being my own brand of nature-girl when it comes to just being an ordinary, contented chick-sheep-or-bovine and letting the, ahem, chips fall as they may. Being the human beast means I must tend to mucking out my own stall, and I’m at least responsible enough to attempt that, I hope, but it also means that I don’t have to worry too much about trying to be someone or something excessively sophisticated let alone idealized. Every creature does what comes naturally, and we don’t tend to blame the non-human ones for that, other than the occasional bird targeting our shiny cars with their natural output and such. And I promise never to strafe your precious automobile, if that makes you feel any better.digitally enhanced graphite drawingSo please pardon my tendency towards inadvertently impolite outbursts, my untimely bodily noises, my awkward kinesis and all of that other too-human beastliness, and I’ll overlook yours as best I can, too. Because we are all in this barnyard together, my friends! PS: my computer just reminded me that the word “kinesis” contains the word “kine,” so the very least you can do is not be too critical if in when motion I resemble a cow. Thank you, and farewell for now. If you should need me, I’ll be over here lounging with my hooves in the trough.pastel on black paper