The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.
— Martin Luther King, Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963
The time is always right to do what is right.
— Martin Luther King, Jr.
Southern Methodist University – March 17, 1966
Last night, an owl
in the blue dark
tossed
an indeterminate number
of carefully shaped sounds into
the world, in which,
a quarter of a mile away, I happened
to be standing.
I couldn’t tell
which one it was —
the barred or the great-horned
ship of the air —
it was that distant. But, anyway,
aren’t there moments
that are better than knowing something,
and sweeter? Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness. I suppose
if this were someone else’s story
they would have insisted on knowing
whatever is knowable — would have hurried
over the fields
to name it — the owl, I mean.
But it’s mine, this poem of the night,
and I just stood there, listening and holding out
my hands to the soft glitter
falling through the air. I love this world,
but not for its answers.
And I wish good luck to the owl,
whatever its name —
and I wish great welcome to the snow,
whatever its severe and comfortless
and beautiful meaning.
Happy Winter Solstice!
After years of anticipation the day of the total solar eclipse had arrived. We live in an area that was predicted to get 99% coverage but within an hour’s drive of totality, so keeping in mind Annie Dillard’s quote, “Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him.” we set off for the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont where the skies were predicted to be the clearest.
After scouting a few towns and hillsides we landed in Coventry, Vermont, specifically in the Coventry Village School parking lot. We had free range as all the area schools had given their pupils and staff the day off. We were later joined by many other groups looking for community without the crowds gathering in the larger cities.
I knew my iPhone wouldn’t be able to capture decent direct eclipse photos so at the last minute I decided to focus on the parking lot and see if I could film the decreasing light. It worked! Fortunately the couple parked next to us had brought their dog who stayed in my video frame and demonstrated the light change by losing his shadow about a minute and a half into this two minutes thirteen seconds video. There’s a little serendipity at the end as I move my phone getting my fingers into the frame but catching a half decent image of the eclipse with Venus shining beneath it.
I just noticed that the video quickly cuts out without allowing a good view of the final frame with the flared out eclipse and view of Venus so I’ve included a screenshot below.
Once home I journaled my experience and included an eclipse poem by Billy Collins.
Don had much better luck capturing the eclipse with our Cannon PowerShot.
And yes, everything you heard about the traffic is true. Just over an hour up and four and a half hours back. A very long day but worth every second!
Magic is believing in yourself. If you can do that, you can make anything happen.
— Goethe
Let’s all make 2024 a year for Magic!
The Winter Solstice arrives here on Thursday, December 21, 2023 at 10:27 PM EST.
(Friday, December 22, 2023 at 0327 UTC)
Heidi Barr (heidibarr.com) is an author and poet who I became aware of just the other day. This poem, December Dark, can be found in her book, Slouching Toward Radiance (Amazon link. I receive no compensation). Her work reminds me of Mary Oliver and I hope you will enjoy exploring her website and also take a moment to celebrate the light’s return.
December Dark
Take solace in gentle
rhythms of ritual, in
ceremonies of the ordinary.
Brew tea, fold clothes, knead bread,
walk to the mailbox.
There is much to savor
in slowness, when quality
of attention allows noticing
each detail –
wisps of steam rising
soft folds in well-worn shirts
hands and dough working together
snow crunching underfoot in moonlight.
Celebrate this walk
through dark days,
this chance
to do it differently,
to revel in slowness
while light waits its turn.
— Heidi Barr
Yes, I slipped and fell on icy stairs on Monday, November 27th and all my plans were derailed. Instead of painting I spent the evening envisioning healing vibes surrounding me, but by Tuesday morning reality had set in. I had either badly sprained my wrist or it was broken. A few hours later I arrived back home nursing my freshly splinted broken right wrist. My arm was swollen enough that a full cast would have to wait.
My dominant hand was incapacitated, so much for my big art journal comeback.
Unfortunately my wrist became misaligned requiring a surgical visit involving a titanium plate to help me regain my full range of motion. And that’s where I am now, just biding my time, taking my meds, elevating and icing, waiting for my next appointment where I’m hoping to graduate to a brace that will allow me to hold a pencil or brush. In the meantime I’ll continue trying to master a fork with my left. A gal’s gotta eat, you know!
I had planned to do only portraits and quotes through this challenge but Saturday evening, on our way to an anniversary party, I became mesmerized by the nearly full moon rising at dusk.
Serendipity and awe.
I’ve always had small fluctuations in my art practice but this has been a very long year and I’ve fallen into a pattern of many drought days interspersed with a creative day or two. My calendar has been full and it seems that every day there have been more pressing things to attend to. Inertia sets in and the day often ends without me picking up my sketchbook or journal.
So in honor of Sir Isaac Newton and his First Law of Motion I’ve committed myself to complete 30 consecutive days of art to kick me out of that inertia. I’m going to be using Rae Missigman and Sandi Keene‘s Art Marks Challenge prompts that I received in an email months ago when I couldn’t even contemplate starting a project.
30 Days. It’s time to begin.
When life gets overwhelming I turn to my sketchbook journal for solace.
If you feel the same, light a candle and repeat this mantra.
Wishing peace for everyone… from my heart to yours!
Dana Burrell... Art 