STEWARDS OF LIGHT
In my upstairs bedroom, I have a large south-facing window that looks unto a majestic honey locust tree. She looms over my balcony with delicate quivering leaves. In the summer, a deep sap green, in the fall, golden yellow. As of now, her leaves have begun their departure as the post-fall winds will leave her bare.
I want to be more like her, anchored and organized in her rhythm of time. But, I am not like her. I am messy, and more than I care to admit, ungrounded and often an enemy of time.
Over the years, I have come to realize that this beingness of mine is where the primary thrust of my creativity comes from. Even at eight and nine years old, I remember ferociously scribbling on paper in what resembled abstracted tangled knots in the shape of ovals. I then set myself the task of filling in the gaps with multi-colored ink pens, searching out the order in my chaos.
We all have dominant ways of being in this world. And in being human, crave to know the “other.” It’s the magnetic force of opposites attracting in relationship.
I have witnessed that search for the “other” in my teaching practice. I somehow give permission for the mess, as participants search to expand their boundaries of known expression.
Recently, I have come across three styles of being that makes sense in not only the context of relationship, but in the way we can describe the order of creating, especially in the context viewing the organizational sense of a painting or composition.