Into the Unfolding of the Day
Kaleidoscopic Shift of One Degree
in a phone conversation
early on a sunny
green-leafed spring morning
i make reference
to my little black stone of a heart.
more than once.
i stand stock still
hearing myself
voice the hard
unyielding words.
what dark
unforgiving story
am i telling myself?
i pray
a question
:
might there be
another way
to see this?
i make breakfast,
eat my protein porridge,
place my dishes in the sink,
move into the unfolding
of the day,
trust my
(little black stone of a)
heart
to open.
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5 x 8″; acrylic on mixed media paper
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Notes about poem and art: “Kaleidoscopic” moved from start to finish as a lovely partnership of intuitive muse and wordsmithing mind, offering up a luscious blend of free-flow and tinkering. Today’s art is a start, the approach to which was informed in part by video lessons I’ve watched over the past two days from a downloadable course from Llewellyn Skye. I watered down small dabs of oxide black, burnt sienna, and yellow ochre to set up a wash as the first layer of an abstract painting. I like having this piece on pause until tomorrow; it has a happy energy as it sits propped beside me while I type.
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19 responses to “Into the Unfolding of the Day”
I am a little baffled how your heart could ever be a black stone…or is that just your muse? Sometimes understanding poetry does not come easy for me. But all any of us can hope for each day is for our hearts to open.
The little art start of a piece is just a delight as is. But it will be fun to see where you take it next. The dark tree-like shapes on the left have seemed to open into color and light!
MaryAnn, thanks for your reflection on my poem, including your bafflement. Indeed, I felt as though my heart were a little black stone; that was the story I was telling myself at the time—and was horrified when I voiced that situational perception and heard what I was thinking! But, always, may our hearts BE open or, if not, receive the grace TO open.
I share your delight in the art start as is … which is why I so often have difficulty moving to a next step when I have a vision for a piece I’ve started! LOVE your seeing trees on the left open into light and color, in effect an answer to my prayer, an opening : )
So grateful for your thoughtful comments.
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I literally this morning heard a reference in satsang to people encountering the black hole in the heart. First time I’ve heard her talk about this. I’ll have to find that part and send to you. No worries- you’ve just gone deep enough within to have it bubble up for healing. “If I’m a black hole in your heart will you still love me?” “Yes, I will.”
The Runaway Bunny story just flashed through my mind.
Dotty….oh, my heart, my own heart responds to
what dark
unforgiving story
am i telling myself?How perfectly timed, your words, your art, my own beginning a journey into a lifestyle of self-compassion, where observing my own inner narrative I am gobsmacked by the dark, unforgiving stories I tell myself.
So much love for you. So much admiration. Thank you. xo
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What a beautiful piece! The way your limited palette flows and mingles. The dark areas so balanced with the yellows!
I agree with Mary Ann, but I also know that we shouldn’t stop an artist on her journey!
Poem. I also find it difficult to interpret poetry, feel it is very subjective. With so much darkness in the world these days it is very easy into that developing into dark stories! Make sense?
Carol, thank you for your observation that the limited palette flows and mingles, with dark areas so balanced with the yellows. Very helpful/informative. I may go on to make more pieces of that ilk, and your feedback may point me in a direction with further development of this piece (which has already moved on to a second layer in advance of your comment!).
I’m wondering if you could pinpoint what makes poetry difficult for you to interpret. You give a hint, saying that it feels very subjective. For me, it is often the subjectivity and specificity of a poem that make it universal in my own reading. I think of poems in much the same way as I think of paintings—especially abstract ones, i.e. once expressed by the artist, the interpretation is particular to the viewer who is responding.
This sentence of yours appears to have a typo of some sort: “With so much darkness in the world these days it is very easy into that developing into dark stories! Make sense?” I’m not making easy sense of what you wrote but would love to hear. I love that you and MaryAnn have opened dialogue about poetry : )
Last thing first. What I meant was that “the darkness ” seeps into the stories we tell ourselves. I think my problem is when I read poetry I take it too literal. Like when I use a reference photo, I am a slave to it. Had the same problem with the exercise with poetry in my workshop with Sara Post. In another exercise she asked us to find a word or phrase and I was much more free. I agree with you and will try to approach poetry as I approach an abstract painting. I am not a very verbal person. You have both gifts, verbal and visual.
RoseAnne, thank you for receiving this with a soft tender heart! And for letting me know this post had a profound universal feel to it for you. I had my knickers in a twist over an everyday concern and then began telling myself stories w/o really being aware, until I voiced them in a phone conversation with a friend, which led to shining some light into the dark, which in turn led to my poem AND to a bit of deeper knowing and deeper beauty. Gentle, gentle : )
Love your words, and honesty, and reminder to remain open.
Love the little black cloud, and the burst of sunlight that refuses to be hidden. Quick thought, “Step into the light.”
I am also reminded of cartoons, when the character is walking under a rain cloud, but the rest of the scene is sunny. Sometimes that little black cloud follows us around, but there is always sunlight to be found.
Thanks, Dotty. For this little spark of joy in my inbox. xoxo
What a marvelous poem, and – to my eye – the watercolorish painting is already ‘finished’!
Simone, thank you for your affirmation of this poem, AND thank you for your perspective about the already-finished watercolorish painting—your perspective may well influence my studio time today where I have been preparing a small canvas.
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