I am an artist

I am an artist

It is in my bones and in my soul.

Growing up you may have thought I wasn’t seeing the world

Properly

That maybe I was

Unfocused

But the truth was that I saw more than you noticed.

My world existed in the way the tadpole swam in the puddle on the dented sidewalk outside my house, a clear dot of life with two black eyes; my mind absorbing every detail of the concrete.

Becoming one with the water and the reflection of the sky on its surface

The blending of the cold damp earth against my soft body, the calm of my breath moving in rhythm to the tadpole’s movements

My mind excited by possibility and calmed by the cadence of nature’s breath and my own.

It existed in the smell of the earth and rain and the trance of a single drop at a time tapping on my skin.

You thought I wasn’t paying attention but I was attuned to everything…everything at once.

I am an artist

It is in my bones and in my soul.

I am watching single flecks of dust fly in a beam of light and I think about how that speck has always been.  Maybe once a human, a blade of grass or the exhale of a king thousands of years ago

Lately I am compelled by the idea, no…the energy of lineage.

That who I am is actually a sum of others before me and how one day I will be a speck, a breath, a thought, a faded picture for sale in an antique store.

I have this moment in time as the clock tick-tocks to my end and I choose to spend it putting myself on paper for no one to see and I laugh at the smallness of this gesture and how I am but a speck of thought and vision and light

How insignificant and greatly significant I am all at once.

I am an artist

It is in my bones and in my soul.

I love the angles of this room, the dense, white, wood boarders that surround the doorways and windows.  Their solidness and strength that will remain long after I am gone.

I think about the wood and its life and hopes and dreams and the tiny maple seedling I have growing in my yard.  Only a few months old, mailed to me as a seed from my home in Michigan, so I could love it, nurture it.

These floors and strong beams were once filled with water and earth and sun.  They reached to the sky and inhaled its warmth.

Here is listens, and feels the weight of a foot step, a family, a life.

It waits for the day that it will sit in the sun and feel its rain again, dissolve back into the earth to prepare a home for a root, reaching for its turn.

I am an artist

It is in my bones and in my soul.

 

www.circlesaregood.com

 

ificant I am all at once.

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This entry was published on September 19, 2010 at 10:08 pm. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “I am an artist

  1. jen herron on said:

    Oh Beth. This was so beautifully written. Poignant and yet so filled with passion and excitement for all that you see.
    I am grateful for such a lovely glimpse at your soul.

  2. Dad & Mom on said:

    Somehow, we think we always knew… The best thing is that now YOU know! Beautiful…

  3. breepick on said:

    Beautiful!

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