”Nature reminds us that we cannot hold on forever. Only with letting go can new life come. . . . So autumn always makes me wonder what I am holding on to. What is it that I am afraid to let go of? . . . What must be put aside so that spring can arrive?”
—-John Izzo, Second Innocence: Rediscovering Joy and Wonder
A series of music and sound and thought filled images took me through the creating of Fractured Shards. I came upon the following video, recognizing it as the perfect accompaniment and an addition as a dancing partner to the thoughts behind the creation, after feeling that the piece was as far as it felt like going for the moment. I am grateful to the music’s creator and to the individual who felt moved to post it, that I might come upon it and to share in the experience of it.
**edit: The title of the music is “Home Wind”. This was the only version of it that I could locate, outside of a playlist…it is NOT sad music, at least I do not feel this way, nor was that my intent upon using the sound.
Good Morning! It’s One Shoot Sunday again! The following is quoted to attribute the photographer and the site that supports and encourages The Poetry Challenge of One Shoot Sunday.
‘Tis good to have choices… Fellow artist and One Shoot Sunday alumnus, James Rainsford understands that and has even suggested an excellent picture prompt challenge. So take your pick. Go on, James offers us five photos.
A Child I sit amongst the trees the breeze to take my soul, I rest in unkempt grasses cushioned among hills of moss which grows, where the sun cannot penetrate the great ceiling of leaves. The clover stretches endlessly to one lying minute miniscule yet a part of such a place. The leaves quiver, as boughs are waved hoping to catch a glimpse of tiny angel’s eyes, they peek shyly ’round the limbs of one so aged and strong gnarled trunks holding secrets known, before such rancor did we the human race display upon the dirty streets and smells rough chemicals and poisons we disperse shall please those of a soul so fell the mighty aged trunks and leaning one by one… Yet wait, a tiny twinkle far away, There, a child, no more than three flies dancing with the trees Just in that moment when, the sun’s sharp rays come piercing down through shadows in the wood Childish laughter Pelting, out man’s noise His arms outspread and turning ’round trees spin above his head A child will free us all one day They shall dispel man’s dread.