From the stars, on a mountain, with the bears, my beads…and paint.
Wise Woman. Where has she been? Can you hear her? Her shuffling bent feet, the smoothed walking stick, her robes shifting. She’s easier for me to hear in the winter. The snow quiets the whole world. The animals rest and eat and sleep and create offspring. The water rushes around but muffled underneath the ice. One tree doesn’t lose its leaves until the new ones pop in the spring. Those are the only leaves I hear in winter, a dry rustling sound, a secret message, calling the deer to come and chew on nutritious bark. Nature knows. She knows.
Wise woman is not about power-over or hierarchy, she’s in collaboration with. We don’t even know her name. The snow, her cloak, also makes connections. At night, the coyotes off in the distance give me shivers. I hear them more clearly in the cold somehow. Maybe science would tell me their sound waves bounce off the tiny icy snow particles. Light sparkles the perfect snowflakes to catch my attention, the stars are the same. Moonshadows on the snow connect me to the cosmos just by looking out my window from my pillow. With one glance I’m in two places at once. Those are her songs. If you’re quiet, you can hear her.
If you are ever interested in a print of my art head to my store which you’ll see up in the menu.
And if you want to follow my hijinx, sign up for my newsletter at the bottom of any page here on my site.
I love you all!