Feel The Rumbling [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“We have to stop and be humble enough to understand that there is something called mystery.” ~ Paulo Coehlo

Kerri sprinted through the kitchen. “Dogga has a baby bunny in his mouth!” I reached the window the moment she said, “Dogga, drop it!” He did. The bunny hopped away. Dogga beamed with satisfaction. A new friend. And who wouldn’t want to take a gentle ride in a dog’s mouth?

The Mayapples are reaching through the devastation. The new green is slowly overtaking the broken brown. We wondered if anything survived the eradication. How foolish we were to doubt the power of life. The force of nature. Already this spring the chorus of the frog’s-re-emergence has blown us away. “We only think we’re in control,” I thought as Kerri knelt to capture the wrinkly green splendor.

We sat in the back. It’s our preferred spot when we attend a performance. We can’t help it. We study. The singers, a chorus comprised of women and men who’ve been touched by breast cancer, Sing-To-Live, made me think of the Mayapple. Resilient. Powerful. Reaching through the fear and devastation. Life reaching for life. Their final song of the night brought tears to my eyes. Why We Sing.

This is why we – human beings – make art. Life reaching for life.

I shared a painting from the deep archives with Horatio. He wrote, “You were bursting at the seams, amigo…Have you thought to paint the current iteration and see what that looks like?” Bursting at the seams. I feel the rumbling.

I dream of the day Kerri returns to her piano. There’s so much more music! I feel the rumbling.

Butterflies bursting from cocoons. Hardy green shoots breaching seed pods. Mayapples push through the crusty soil called by the warmth of sun. Bunnies emerge from their leafy nest. Courageous people singing to live. It’s everywhere. Feel the rumbling.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MAYAPPLES

buymeacoffee.com in case you’d like to support our too-many-words and music and painting.

Listen To BabyCat [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

babycat in a box copy

Everyone has there safe spot. The place where they can relax, let their guard down. Rest. Mine is the chair in my studio. For years my dad’s safe spot was his reclining chair. He’d melt into it and fall fast asleep. Safe spots are contained spaces. Quiet. Known. Cocoons.

BabyCat has many safe spots. He moves with the sun from safe spot to safe spot around the house. He recently added another to his holdings. It is not fancy. There is nothing designer about his tastes though this choice surprised us: a toothpaste box from Costco.

Moments before it became a BabyCat safe spot, the box was loaded with coffee, eggs, a bottle of wine.  It had no importance. We tossed the box to the floor merely to make space on the counter. A discard en route to the recycling bag. And then BabyCat occupied it. We knew immediately that this was not temporary housing by the way he settled in. This was the real deal. He purred.

Though we’ve moved it to a less trip-able spot, the toothpaste box remains one of BabyCat’s favorites in his safe spot rotation. Watching him move from zen to zen I realized he is never far from a safe spot. He has constructed his life according to maximizing his inner quiet and comfort. It is his top priority.

There must be a lesson to be learned in there somewhere. This year, as I run from place to place, from one stress spot to the next, enrapt in my all-too-important list of things to accomplish, I will stop (periodically) and remember the power of a toothpaste box, the lesson of BabyCat and the real  possibility of moving through life prioritizing my peace  instead of raising my blood pressure.

BabyCat Lesson One: identify more than one safe spot. Then multiply.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about BABYCAT’S BOX

 

chicago market dec 2018 website box copy