A New View

WhickerBack40

I am a creature of habit. I wake up around the same time each morning. I love my morning routine of walking, journaling, reading, writing. I eat meals at approximately the same times each day. I have favorite sketchbooks I stick with. I shop for groceries at the same places. I drive the same routes to wherever I’m going. Yes, there’s comfort in familiarity. Change, for me, is often unwelcome.

Yet change nearly always brings many benefits. One huge benefit is that I’m forced to see things from a new perspective, or I simply see new things period! Circumstances beyond our control can shift our perspective in really good ways. Both surgeries have done this in my life. Most recently, when I came home from the hospital, I knew I wanted to go for little walks, no matter how short, no matter how bent over and shuffling I was. Just to move my body, get the blood flowing, and be outdoors breathing fresh air and seeing sky, trees, grass, etc. I love to walk.

Even on my walks I tend to take the same route day in and day out. This summer I began taking a different route due to not wanting to tackle hills yet. This led me to walk down into our neighborhood instead of up and out of our neighborhood. Off of one of the cul de sacs is a view I hadn’t seen in a while. Mr. Whicker, as you know, has a farm at the top of our neighborhood. Last year he purchased more land at the back of his property and this is a view from the cul de sac. He leveled the field and planted wheat or hay (whatever it is he feeds his cows). I have loved walking down to gaze on the glowing field over the fence. Vines have grown along the posts and wire fence. I do love having new views…especially for drawing and painting!

So I’m embracing change in my life. I’m enjoying new views, new perspectives, and new work as a creative person. Even my body is having to get used to a new way of working. This too will become familiar one day. But for now, so much is different. Discouragement and fear licks at my heels some days. I’m doing battle with it by knitting, drawing and painting. Yes, they are familiar things to me…but they allow me to absorb and accept the new in a celebratory way. They function as anchors, rooting me to the ground as things change daily.

I hope you are able to experience some change in your own life. Embrace it with a drawing! Celebrate it in paint! Or knit your way through it one stitch at a time.

I’m Off…

ReynoldaGnarlyTrees

I’m off to draw and knit at will

Where life will lead, my days to fill.

A week, a month, I cannot say

I’m going into the field to play.

StressRelief

There are yarns to knit and lines to draw…

…weaving them in a bouquet to enthrall

as I scurry about the rough hewn path;

amid the wild flowers I’ll run and laugh.

Tea&Muffin

For too much “must-do” is simply too much.

So I’m off of Facebook, this blog and such.

But if you’d like to see where I am,

You can follow me over on Instagram.

ColorLoveYarn

Life is full! We live it just once.

Take a break, pare down, find the essence.

Off the grid and out in the field

See your life beautiful, a bounty to yield.

-jpe

April 21, 2014

In My Field

FieldFinery

I long to sit in my field. To listen to the late summer hum.  To wonder at the bowed heads of left-behind wheat.  To drink in the gorgeous array of color in the wild, dew-dripping grasses.  To feel the light breeze and to smell the rain sodden earth.  This I love.  This feels like home.

I would want to paint.  To know the exhilaration of putting paint to paper in hopes of coming close to what I see and feel here.  To be reminded that my palette of watercolor just cannot do justice to what’s at my feet.  To go home from this place knowing I can look back through the pages of my sketchbook and be here again.

I would want to knit.  To sit here with wools the colors of the field, running through my fingers and needles.  Indeed I would rename the fibers as they fair-isled into a yarn painting:  Autumn Grass, Dew Drop, Goldenrod, and Clover Hay.  And each time I wore the finished piece I’d be able to smell the earth and hear the sounds of my field.

I would want to write.  To craft words that represent each blade of grass, wheat, and wild flower.  Letters that give real-time meaning to the other-worldly air I breathe here. Words that would be carefully crafted as if I had knit them…or painted them.

But I’ve come to my field without any of these.  Just to sit and take it all in.  I breathe in and out.  I gaze and marvel.  I ruminate.  I try to cease all thought.  And then I close my eyes.  Something trickles down my cheeks.  It is then that I have a thought I’ve never had before—perhaps all the paintings in watercolor and yarn, all the sketches and drawings, the knitted and crocheted creations, are tear-shaped drops that reflect the beauty that’s all around me.  Perhaps a need to create is a way of exhaling it out, a way of crying to the Universe that it is so beautiful and I must make something of it or else I’d simply weep everywhere I go.

Next time, I’ll bring my paints or some yarn or my writing book.  In so doing, I’ll continue the trail of happy tears as I bask in the glory of my field.

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For other posts about My Field (which actually belongs to my neighbor Mr. Whicker)

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