Found Objects on Canvas, 8/22/2009
Nine miles.
~
Nights are lengthening.
~
I wasn’t sure how this morning’s run would go. Not feeling the best, I knew I craved the calmness and energy that only the deep movement of Air from the top of my lungs to the bottom could provide, much like how my Aspergian son finds the balance of earth only in the magic of Water.
So I laced up my Brooks running shoes and out the door I went. Although lately my right-brained runs have been all about gardens and their tempting plump string green beans and juicy tomatoes, today, I needed the magic and power of trees, so I headed towards that great assembly of oak trees my boys and I attempted to count a few months ago. Walking Central Park a few weeks ago whetted my appetite for the acorns that I know will soon fall from these trees, the great lungs of the earth.
Giant and wise, earnest in their work as though they are the center of the universe (personally, I think they are!), their branches flow thick, filling with their fruit. Young branches jump to the sun trying to touch it, like a child who leaps from the shoulders of his mother towards the pool’s blue water. Amid the stand of trees’ thick wood paneling, a few acorns lay on the ground though most were hanging like lanterns from branches, swinging like ski-lift chairs, continuing to ripen.
On my way back, happy to have a few amulets in hand, I detoured in my running improvisation towards another park where three massive oaks stand grandfather-like, as a doorway, a portal to another world. I wished I could count the hundreds of sacred rings that certainly were contained within one trunk like I paused during yesterday’s time-rushed run to count the 80 (at least) circles in the cut knee of another tree still standing.
Sharing with the local squirrels as though in a farmers’ market, I selected a few acorns, a collection of beautiful souls, and lingered beneath a beautiful Kindred Spirit Tree. Lingering in my OWN important work. Considering trees, THIS tree, like all trees, that unite and balance all elements. Its roots, chambers deep into the Earth, taking up Water so that its branches may reach into the Air, towards the Fire of the Sun.
~
Trees. The lungs of the earth.
The lungs of my body.
Lingering. Breathing.
My posture open, listening to the quiet voices dispensing wisdom in the language of the trees.
GL, 8/22/2009. Prevail.
Nine miles.
~
Nights are lengthening.
~
I wasn’t sure how this morning’s run would go. Not feeling the best, I knew I craved the calmness and energy that only the deep movement of Air from the top of my lungs to the bottom could provide, much like how my Aspergian son finds the balance of earth only in the magic of Water.
So I laced up my Brooks running shoes and out the door I went. Although lately my right-brained runs have been all about gardens and their tempting plump string green beans and juicy tomatoes, today, I needed the magic and power of trees, so I headed towards that great assembly of oak trees my boys and I attempted to count a few months ago. Walking Central Park a few weeks ago whetted my appetite for the acorns that I know will soon fall from these trees, the great lungs of the earth.
Giant and wise, earnest in their work as though they are the center of the universe (personally, I think they are!), their branches flow thick, filling with their fruit. Young branches jump to the sun trying to touch it, like a child who leaps from the shoulders of his mother towards the pool’s blue water. Amid the stand of trees’ thick wood paneling, a few acorns lay on the ground though most were hanging like lanterns from branches, swinging like ski-lift chairs, continuing to ripen.
On my way back, happy to have a few amulets in hand, I detoured in my running improvisation towards another park where three massive oaks stand grandfather-like, as a doorway, a portal to another world. I wished I could count the hundreds of sacred rings that certainly were contained within one trunk like I paused during yesterday’s time-rushed run to count the 80 (at least) circles in the cut knee of another tree still standing.
Sharing with the local squirrels as though in a farmers’ market, I selected a few acorns, a collection of beautiful souls, and lingered beneath a beautiful Kindred Spirit Tree. Lingering in my OWN important work. Considering trees, THIS tree, like all trees, that unite and balance all elements. Its roots, chambers deep into the Earth, taking up Water so that its branches may reach into the Air, towards the Fire of the Sun.
~
Trees. The lungs of the earth.
The lungs of my body.
Lingering. Breathing.
My posture open, listening to the quiet voices dispensing wisdom in the language of the trees.
GL, 8/22/2009. Prevail.
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