Into Something Better (May)

Sleeping In The Forest by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me, she
took me back so tenderly, arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds. I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated
light as moths among the branches
of the perfect trees. All night
I heard the small kingdoms breathing
around me, the insects, and the birds
who do their work in the darkness. All night
I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling
with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.


We as a group of artist mothers from all over the world are making it our priority to turn off the tv/video games so that we can give our children the sacred experience to connect with the fast disappearing natural world. We will freelens our adventures into the wild and share them through this monthly project.

 

In these tangled woods my two youngest and I have found an enchanted bit of quiet and beauty. On this evening it was dripping with light. It was beautiful, but it was not perfect. They fought, one stomped away pretending to leave us but came back, I felt a little irritable as the school year is winding down and this is the last week. There is always so much to do out in our real world and it weighs so heavily sometimes. But I stopped and sat at the foot of tree bathed in the prettiest light. They picked up sticks and made each other laugh, we found a toad, my daughter taught our new puppy tricks, and our old dog came alive in the woods like he always does. For a moment between 12 year old boy jokes that were driving me nuts, my son let me take a few close up shots of his sweet face. Last summer we spent a lot of time going for walks in these woods. On this day, they did feel a year older, changed, as I did, because, we were. It was a chance to look at their lighthearted faces glowing in the yellow light and remember to breathe, to laugh. I hope we spend more time here this summer and maybe even get their two older brothers to come with us. It really is a place where our "thoughts  (could float) light as moths among the branches of the perfect trees" and "into something better." 

DSC_2997.jpg
DSC_2937.jpg

Free Lensing Circle July

In June our house is covered with Cicadas. They are everywhere, dried up exoskeletons that you ride your bicycles around as though it is normal to have thousands of bugs everywhere. One day I tell you , "let's collect the wings for a photo I want to make." And so you and I fill up mason jars, half full with perfect tiny insect wings. I try to explain to you that they will not be here for another 17 years. Try to remember what this summer is like, you as an almost 6 year old, the summer of the Cicadas, when Momma was 39 and all your brothers were home, two of them teenagers, and your closest brother, your best friend. I tell you to close your eyes and remember how it felt to be small. I have done this my whole life, taking in a feeling of being a certain age, looking around at the faces and landscape. This is how it feels. Remember. When you open your eyes 17 years later, when the cicadas come again, you will be 23. Can you imagine? No you cannot, you say. And so in the warm air, we continue collecting the clear perfect, identical wings. I think of you flying away one day maybe at 23, maybe sooner, of your brothers finding their wings first. How time changes everything. In 17 years things will be different. In the thick Magnolia scented warm air, I close my eyes. Remember the summer of the Cicadas. Remember what this felt like. Look around. I pause for a few brief seconds, taking it all in. And we continue around the yard collecting the wings and remarking how strange these brown bug bodies are. how very strange.

 

 

DSC_2359.jpg
DSC_2340.jpg
DSC_3838.jpg
Now please go check out my friend Joni's beautiful work to follow the circle around. 

Now please go check out my friend Joni's beautiful work to follow the circle around.