I'm trying to place the important things front and center; this week I framed the salmon-pink Christmas cactus, about to burst into bloom. This is saying to myself: perceive me through the natural world rather than the natural world through me.
It's all nature, I know: forest, city, plant, pavement -- but there's information in the slow, delicate, insistent unfolding of the cactus blossom that is worthy (and desirous) of all attention, whatever nonsense might be going on around it.
That the flower is desirous is important. I'm seeing these days that we can only create from what is calling to be used. Things in the environment, the atmosphere, invite us to them: from this offer come ideas, concepts, materials, and any innovation we might claim. The environment gives, it also withholds. Perhaps there are no new dances to be made today.
I'm listening to the Benedictine Monks of Weston Priory in Vermont, "Song of Thanksgiving:"
"Let us be grateful,
For those who, with courage clear,
went beyond rigid forms and fear
to wonder and surprise."
What is this saying to you?
