A faint vision, a random thought and a perplexing question all lead to the potential of a word painting. I immerse myself in the fleeting illumination as my pen-brush touches the page.
The ink begins to flow, colorful images formed in words move the story forward. Unclear at first yet steadily engaged, a message begins to form. Hope blooms once again from a masterpiece of nature, a love flower, captured as a photograph unsuspectingly in the early part of my day.
In a coffee house far away, where plants are grown from air, I found inspiration to share. So my words began to thrive without roots as I expanded my predetermined horizon into poetic expression.
As we know, life’s picture is never revealed all at once. Rather, meaning is often gathered in pieces over years of soul searching. Sometimes, however, a revelation is discovered in a crucial missing element while taking a rest off the beaten path.
With a much-needed break, a momentary breath of fresh air and a blank white canvas, endless possibilities burst forth in a fantastic display of color as I am left luxuriating in a new and vibrant inflorescence of hope.
“Sometimes nature guards her secrets with the unbreakable grip of physical law. Sometimes the true nature of reality beckons from just beyond the horizon.”
Today’s post was inspired by the magnificent Lily of the Nile, known in Greek as the Agapanthus, derived from the Greek word – Agape – Love and Anthos – Flower…and my first purchase of a Tillandsia air plant found in the lovely Plant Shoppe, in Oklahoma City.
Fragmented, broken pieces of myself have formed into a moving creative pattern appearing through a kaleidoscope induced image of myself. My feelings of inconsistency remind me to accept the orderliness of a divine arrangement marked with symmetry and cohesiveness to produce authentic work reflecting my individual design.
Psychology of perception ground up learning theory would state that I am a product of experience. What I see is because of what I already know. Having learned to finally tweak the vision of those broken parts into some sort of manageable recurring design for others to view plays on this well-accepted theory. However, what is perceived still remains subjective.
Events can turn the environment causing a new realm of stability, slightly shifting the lens, and strikingly new patterns emerge. Consider too that each repetitive pattern is continually morphing into a modified version of itself until it becomes completely unrecognizable in the metamorphosis, retaining only some of its original colors.
We can all recognize the beauty in the constantly changing visions of a kaleidoscope. But can we accept change in ourselves?
Vivid colors surround me daily, awakening a deeply-rooted purpose to express my feelings and reflections in the form of artistic creation. I cannot deny the profound effect of colorful displays of inspirational images on my heart. Motivation to share and create is born from these visions of delight. Flowers, birds, and trees as well as oceans and mountain streams enlighten me guiding my heart deeper into a natural realm of being where self-acceptance and a desire for a non-hurried lifestyle allow my dreams to thrive.
As in the turn of a kaleidoscope. creative development often remains a work in progress and a mystery. A journey refined by every step. Joy felt from our individual perspective of each design as seen today without our eyes on tomorrow or our hearts left in the struggles of yesterday.
It is for each of us to appreciate the constantly changing visions of our inner kaleidoscopes.
For what we think to be true, is often only true because of how we see it.
When I was younger, my Dad would take my hand to show me the Orion star, the most prominent and brightest of the winter constellation. He wanted me to share in his awe of the universe, yet I was a preteen. It didn’t seem pertinent at the time.
And yet, today the stars hold hope in my mind. I look up at the sky and feel the strength that anything is possible with hope.
Hope destroys the weakened spirit, elevates the burdened soul, and promises a future.
So, I smile at the memory. Have I memorized the constellations at my Dad’s wishes? No. But I have adopted appreciation for the spectacular light show and the power of the universe to drown out the darkness.
AND, I still feel his hand holding mine coaxing me to look above for astronomical support.
This is a short post, to let you know I am still chasing stars.
Hope is my therapy. Where else can such a profound sense of acceptance be felt? It exists for all of us, gentle support that anchors our souls. A belief and expectation of something good.
Two blue jays visited today on a branch outside my window as if to remind me of a universal smile of goodness. A pureness that radiates from nature all around me, a perfected treasure gifted to me to view daily if I slow down enough to do so. If I delete one “o” what remains in the word is the strength I put my hope in. For it is in recognizing that power and glory that I accept my own goodness.
My initial inability to rebound and cope seamlessly with loss pours life into these words. They exist only because I still have hope. Hope in a future, not without pain but with a gift. The gift of believing each day, itself, is a gift.
We wake naively without any anticipation of who we could lose in a split second, an occurrence taking only .00001157 of the entire day, changing the course of life for thousands of others. That one second does not define the life of the lost, rather it defines the implication that even a second of each day matters.
That particular second changed everything for me and many others this past week. Except Hope did not change. Hope remained a constant. Life goes on because of Hope. Hope that all happens eventually for good. Even if the temptation is to sink low into an abyss of confusion, the universe reminds us that all is good with it and invites us to put our hope in the power harnessed within.
Strong arms of healing wrap around me gently, reminding me that my pain of loss needs hope now more than ever.
I dream of a world where judgment is replaced with understanding and compassion. A world where opinions are stated with warmth and withheld when generated from self-promoting agendas.
Each individual contribution in this world is available from the life-giving spirit given equally to all of us. The belief systems that grow within each unique heart is as personal as its owner’s reflection in the mirror. One individual does not have the answer for another. Grace has the only answer we all need.
When one voice emphatically reprimands another with the weapon of self-righteousness, a pretension of a special relationship with the all-knowing and a misguided belief that truth is shared only with them, they partake in a foolish fantasy.
My fellow writers, this week, I read your commenters’ distasteful judgment with sadness. Fending off wolves of merciless evangelism is no feat for the sensitive of nature. And although I wish them grace as well, I swallow my own righteous indignation at their misplaced words.