Sunshine/flit/shadow/flit/sunshine/flit/shadow/flit, quick, quick, quick against my closed eyelids, the pattern of light a silent wake-up call from the Universe. And so the year comes to a soft end, my bird muse nearby, happy in the outdoor sun, patient with me, letting me sleep longer than usual, letting me be late on this slow workday, Maggie outside long before, in the 5:30 darkness.
Last year I had one resolution for the new year. More art. That was it - that was all. I wanted to find some wings, try them on, fly around a bit, see what I thought. Those wings? Oh, I thought, I'll make them of maps of the night sky, pieces of broken stars, mockingbird feathers. I'll attach fireflies to the edges come summertime, and white tulips in the spring. At Christmas, tiny silver bells, almost silent, so that when I moved my heart would hear the sound before my ears. Freshwater pearls & remnants of storm clouds captured in jars, sealed with wax & wrapped in baby blue ribbon. Arrow leaves, white rocks - oh, there's a story I've yet to tell - and the sound of a purring cat. Magical wings. Not those of an angel, but those of an artist. I've learned to be comfortable with that idea - artist. I've learned to embrace it a bit, to feed it what it needed - solitude, friendship, belief in silly ideas.
So this new year? This coming year? What now, what next? Well, more art, I say again. But this year, more words also. I've learned to fly from tree to tree, but I'm ready to soar a bit higher, to glide a while on a cool breeze. This year I'll add to my wings - I want owl feathers & silver handprints of those I love, I want cat pawprints across vanilla silk edged with white embroidery & porcupine quills - I know where to find them. I want a fallen piece of the windchime hanging from the tree next to my father's grave, heart & hand milagros, paperwhites, the scent of green tea. I know where they all are - I just have to scoop them up with both hands.
I know now that a year is not just a measurement of time - it is space in my soul & it is up to me to fill it. This year is more than full, and that is why a new one must take its place, nestling close to all those other years I have inside, not closed shut, but still open so that pieces from one year may spill over into the next or even the next. The past is there, still alive, still coloring the present, still offering advice, still giggling at the jokes I have stored away.
Maybe I will add giggles to this years wings.
So for you - I wish you wings of your own. What will you use to make them? It is up to you, you know, you're not allowed to hire out the sewing & hammering services. You must pick up the needle & thread yourself, you must solve the problem of getting those moonbeams to stay put. How will you do that? What tricks will you use?
Where do you start?