Tracing steps in them.
“We probably all derive from something, so much so that we cannot escape a language of line that has been growing in meaning since the beginning of line. ”
-Georgia O’Keefe, 1956
This year has started with a sadness of partings, I’m not sure why but I feel that, I’m not quite sure how to start again from here. I visit Georgia O’keefe and Mary Oliver through books right now, hoping for some inner compass to kick in somehow.
And I’m planning a trip, the first “taking myself on vacation” trip for me. The planning helps a little, something on the horizon that brings hopeful expectation.
I wake up with a lot of questions but very few answers seem to come, except in the form of more questions-
A crow with holes throughout her tail feathers?
Boats with names of horses and dark sails? And racing a boat named “string theory”?
Geese that circle round and round?
How high can a burrowing owl fly?
I’m curious but I know, I know I’m a terrible student, stubborn to a flaw and rebellious of conformation to an extreme. Forgive me if this is my fault in life.
But I am always curious so I hope to somehow continue learning, even if I don’t fit in any particular place, I thought I did once, but somehow lost my way when I stumbled out of the garden gate.
Rambling, I ramble when I’m lost. I am going to find myself though, I promise myself, that is my
-Georgia o’Keefe, 1962