Nearly every night I awake to quench my thirst. I step out of my
bedroom and onto the deck where I blindly feel for the door handle to
enter the dark yurt. I immediately reach for the light switch and walk
across the cold floor to the sink where I fill my glass in a somnabulant
state. After gulping down refreshing water, I walk back outside to my
bed in the little dome. I see the moon glowing silently on the
horizon, and I frequently remember my dreams after greeting this eerie
bright light rising from behind the trees.
In the morning I
heat water for tea. My tiny furry kitty Falena, aka “dainty monkey”
greets me as she prances swiftly from the cat door to her food dish. I
rush to put on my clothes, I have to hurry out the door to greet a new
friend today. I swiftly dart out the door and Falena follows me to the car as
usual, curious as to where I disappear to in my travel pod. Driving
down the hill, I can see the revitalizing view of the mountains.
Colors are bright, the landscape presents a crisp and detailed panorama
of slow creeping clouds and dancing yellow spears of pine and madrone
trees. My heart fills with joy as I behold the land the morning after a
fresh rain.
Driving fast on the windy road, I embrace the
hypnotic pulse of light from the tree shadows hitting my windshield,
chiming to the beat of my music. As I pass through the country side
admiring the glorious view, I come to a stop where I see a huge
grandfather tree smashed and blocking the highway. I gasp and wonder how
powerful the winds must have been, and take in for a moment the weight
of the huge beast lying across the road. I turn the wheel, now warm
from the sun, towards my destination where a new art patron awaits my
arrival.
We meet at a little restaurant in the country, and
while sipping our coffees at the European style tables, share our love
for the plant kingdom. We have a very interesting conversation, one
where you can understand where the other is coming from, on a very
specific level. Such a unique conversation, you feel like it is a story
being written or a new idea being born. He is anxious to be the new owner of my oil painting, "Two Bird Tribe". It is still morning and my
coffee is jolting through my system. I don’t normally drink coffee,
except when I’m socializing, which gets me really excited. I go into
the room and gaze upon my oil painting. Its eyes meet mine again, and I
look into their beings as if I am seeing them in a new light. They
almost seem to give me a high five, and I thank them for visiting my
dreams. I am filled with gratuity for having met a new friend and
patron who adors my art and feels a similar affinity for the characters
in the pictures that I paint. I remember the moon on the horizon, and
the delicate state of dreams and their significance. Nature is always
guiding me with beacons of light, and still moments of darkness,
signaling my need to paint. I can still smell the morning rain on the
grass, and am filled with delight that my day is just beginning.
