New Year



Reading them,

drawing them,

stitching them,

painting them

Watching others

Rehearse them,

Dancing them,

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


“like a thread that runs through all the reasons for the other things that make one’s life.”

-Georgia o’Keefe, 1962

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