The tragedy that hit my old home town moves me in subtly deep and surprising ways – Trying to put it into words for you, I describe me as experiencing an openness, a gratitude for being embodied, an acceptance of life’s fragility, brevity and vagaries. I’m softer somehow, more able to encompass the whatevers that occur, stronger and more stable internally. It’s good.
I feel privileged to live on this planet.
To witness the everyday miracles of raindrop on twig, tracks in the mud, new buds bursting, a crow carrying a twig, a gull carrying a clam, my dogs knowing more about their world through their noses than I can imagine exists, a bolt of sunlight through dark grey clouds, a wisp of breeze rippling the surface of the pond, the look of love in my granddaughter’s eye or the joy of frolicking in her puppy’s face, the color of paint transforming plain brown paper, all of that and endless variations on the theme of relishing experience are the symphony of my life.
Here then is my testimony for Michel, her journey teetering between worlds, courted by both, surrendering to the loving magnificence.
Life is indeed a privilege!
Oh Deborah, I’m sorry for your loss and I’m so grateful for you in my life. Your inspiration is like a fountain at times….I’m overwhelmed by your painting and I recognize those brown hands which make the painting all the more profound. Thank you my dear friend.