My Red Tree

For over two years, I have worked on and off on this piece I call “Legend”, finally I decided to draw it to a close. I hope that through this piece, you may be inspired, as I was in composing, and painting it.

How have I been spending my time? Well it’s a funny thing time, you can’t hold onto it, there’s never enough of it, and it’s the one thing you want most. Lately I have come to realize more and more that truly it is a gift. After all we don’t do anything to acquire it, however it’s there for us to use as we will, clearly a gift. Not to be taken for granted.

So although I have been busy, as usual, there are a few things I do more of. I notice the sunsets, I observe nature changing all around me every day. The way the leaves deepen into a darker hue, as summer turns into full swing. I take advantage of the music all around me, birds singing, the voices of my loved ones, the way the trees clap and sway to their own personal rhythm. This is all a part of me, of who I am, and if I can’t see it, hear it, feel it, then it becomes lost to me, as my world spins into an endless race to stay above, to stay ahead. So then what I work for, hope for, and dream of, would then somehow lose its meaning.

So find the time to laugh a little. Look up at the sky, as you embrace the beauty around you, just waiting to be discovered. But most importantly, give of your time, of yourself, to those who matter most, because that is after all the greatest investment you could make in the bank of life.

The darkness falls across my valley…This place that I call home. The hills stand sentry, protecting, watchful. My thoughts churn, as the ocean waves…Silence. For only in the silence will I hear the voice…It questions, beseeches, wonders…Yet never an answer. For the journey is part of the understanding.

I search the heavens for star light. Little girl inside, make a wish…Then rest your head, to see tomorrow. The answers come in time. Patience as the hills around. They too feel the seasons, they too must embrace change. Yet they remain untroubled, for it is part of a far greater plan. So rest, tomorrow is born on the wings of a new sun. Tomorrow is your gift of promise. So rest, just rest…

He stood there, proud as ever, ignoring the shriveled leg, which hung so lifeless. For he was still strong, as he watched me, watch him. A feeling of pity was my first response, but then as I observed, I realized pity was not due him. Apart from the rest of the flock, as if his deformity made him less, but he did not care. There was determination in those little eyes, for he would not be beat. I sat there, for awhile, waiting for his next move. In those moments I learned something…

He was not less because he chose not to be less. He would fight and fend along with the rest of them rather they wanted him too or not. He would survive, because he could. If a tiny gull can believe that, why then, is it so hard for us?

We grow discouraged, discontented, life can be so pathetic. But how dare we criticize, what we have yet to learn. How easily our vision our hope is clouded, as if the rains would blind us, beat us, before the dawn that we have so longed and waited for. No matter who we are, we have one precious gift, which we do not have to sacrifice…The gift of hope. The alter of life, is harsh enough without us giving up. No matter what may seem to hold us back, we were born for so much more. Our minds are the visions of our souls, our every dream, our every wish, is important. We may feel tiny, insignificant, but in each of us, there is a hope, that only our own hearts can set free, to watch life soar.

I leaned back and watched him wing to the sky, and in a way he took a piece of my heart with him. In my mind I reached with him, inspired, determined, that I too, can fly.

Winter danced its ending tune of the season last night. Pounding it’s icey hand against my window, it’s frozen breath seeping in through every nook and cranny. I didn’t say good bye, I hid my head beneath some blankets, and whispered good riddens, for fear my benediction might in some way anger, old winter to wrath, tightening it’s grip, when I so long for spring.

Odd isn’t it, through every season, as time progresses we look forward to the next, in anticipation, as we loath what we recently could hardly wait for. Human nature I presume, always wondering what’s next? Losing interest quickly, but for the most part always looking ahead. A good thing in so many ways. But sometimes we lose sight of each gift, humbly laid at our feet, for us to notice, or step over.

In its own way, winter gives nature a time of rest, as each season offers a helping hand to the next, in a form of unity, that we as humans could learn much from.

Our minds pass over the kind words, or tiny smiles, that are actually balms to our souls, remembering mostly the wounds, the frozen vast. We cannot have one with out the other. In the end, winter is the sacrifice, melting its life into the ground to feed the hungry growth, to give life. So you see, the cold seasons, are there to make us feel the warm ones. In life our souls slumber through the pain or hardships, waiting for the balm. But it will come, it always does, and though we cannot see the reason as clearly as we can judge the seasons, there is a reason none the less.

Hold tight to that blanket, it is your comfort, your promise, that no matter what, there will always be a spring. Maybe in the form of a simple smile or kind word? Life always has a way of unfolding…