Through our inner artist’s lens

I took this close-up of a favorite old Western Red Cedar, which stands on the edge of a gully, reaching up higher than the eye can see, on a local loop trail (Ludlow Falls).

The local loop trail in three acts: the first alone, the second with my photographer mother as my coach, the third time following the kiddos. And so captures the different dimensions to our lives, the varied sources of our wisdom: that which we experience in solitude, in connection to those who nurture us, and in relationship to those we nurture.

A word on the gift of shadowing/accompanying my Mom. Time seemed to slow down, reminding me that her love of creating art has always been just that—being fully present to something special, and true, and messy unfolding. Prayer and ritual often feels this way to me, as does guiding connections between people in community that can bring about powerful change. How joyful it is to keep discovering new ways to see the world through our inner artist’s lens, which we are all blessed to have. Sometimes we just need to remember it’s there, as poet Ted Kosser writes:

The quarry road tumbles toward me

Out of the early morning darkness,

Lustrous with frost, an unrolled bolt

Of softly glowing fabric, interwoven

With tiny glass beads on silver thread,

The cloth spilled out and then lovingly

smoothed by my father’s hand

As he stands behind his wooden counter

(Dark as these fields) at Tilden’s Store

So many years ago. “Here,” he says smiling,

“You can make something special with this.”