When I sat down to write this morning the sky was a deep shade of blue; the oak trees around my house jagged silhouettes against the sky. I watched the sky slide slowly from its blues to gold, and into the almost-white blue of autumn. The outside air is pungent with woodsmoke, the gutters filled with fallen leaves. The morning is quiet; squirrels collect the last acorns for their winter's horde. And yet this earth--my planet--is spinning through black space, saved only by the pull of a burning fireball that would consume us if it weren't for our momentum. This quiet show of color, light and season a result of raw energy that is larger than my mind can wrap around.
On Friday my boyfriend, an artist, taught me to do contour drawings. They are like musical scales for a visual artist. They help focus your eye and free your hand to respond. The only rule is that you may not look at the paper until you're done. So he stood on the bleachers in the afternoon light, and I placed my pen onto the page and began to trace the line of his forehead, his arm, the angle of his leg. The finished product was his silhouette overlapping itself in jumbled angles and lines. I was slow as I drew, focusing too much on the details, letting the big picture get lost in the minutae.
How difficult it is to translate what I think I see into two dimensions, let the reliability of my hand bear the weight of this spinning, quietly changing world around me. And yet bearing witness is what I must do, continuing to pay attention to the lines, light and shadow each day brings, holding them against the larger piece of story each fits into, swimming in the large wonder of it all.
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4 comments:
I peeked at your blog today. I've checked it a couple of times since you left. There is a sense of peace in your writing that previously was hidden. A maturity and strength of identity too, as if you've found a place of comfort and acceptance.
Grace and humility seem to be leading your words and thoughts, as if your heart is free to care and love others less burdened by self.
I'm not sure how your story leads to MO, but I'm very glad you're not in Seattle. Maybe this new home will become a place of deep roots.
I suppose no one ever fully understands how their efforts, and hopes, and dreams are used in furthering God's kingdom. But I do know my hearts burden of prayer for you has gotten to see the sweet fruit of its sowing. May I be blessed as you have in letting go.
Don Quixote
Beautiful, Amy - you're expressing much of what I'm trying to at this point, that being thoughts :) I just stumbled upon your blog today, somewhat surprised that I never knew it existed before, but overjoyed in the fact I now get to read more of your writing.
I've only read the most recent post, but look forward to reading many more below it and coming to understand you in a different way and at a different level - despite the physical distance.
Paul
of course i am baised, but i think you should try 3-D art. then you think multi-demensionally. :)
sorry, i have nothing deep to say today.
we all had a good time with you and darin on sunday. thanks for your company. d
I should wait until reading more passages but I think it best to write what I think about this one before being baised by another.
With that being said, I am impressed. You have brought a bit of truth and yet maintained mystery. I am intrigued not just because of knowing you but because of your skill.
On to the next.
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