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.
“Idealism is a seed of naïveté once planted in a youthful heart that grew into a tree of hopefulness.” – Erika K Rothwell
It’s Monday again. Yes I am moving forward with hope. Yet, my mind stays persistently intertwined with the past. Stuck in an observation mode, I cling to new ideas as if a collection of fine jewelry meant to be coveted rather than worn.
The day seems too simple to be adorned in bright shiny new ideas. So, reflection pulls me deeper into acceptance of my inability to complete any one of my projects in progress and I find an odd sense of comfort in stagnation.
I turn my attention to the view outside my window where the bird couple has landed on the tree branch. I am reminded, once again, of the fleeting moments that pass by my eyes of observation, pleading to be captured in words. However, with the best plan in place, the hours still burn up in the heat of day, and I am left with ashes of intent.
I reread my words of the past, rediscovered today, in a note written to myself months ago. “Idealism is a seed of naïveté once planted in a youthful heart that grew into a tree of hopefulness.” My daydream is insistent and alive, albeit buried beneath the surface of deeply packed minutia.
A state of reflection along with my strange preoccupation with fantastical imagery, draws me into a centrifuge of swirling thoughts, finding myself unable to categorize or prioritize.
And as the birds fly away, I am left only with the “tree of hopefulness” and a reminder to persevere…