an essay...

posted on: 10.17.2012

The study of a man.

Bear with me, if you will, I'm about to wax poetic for just a few, and I can only promise it'll be all kinds of cheese...

Sometimes it's easy to look out at our lives and see how it just made sense that they melded into one long string of moments that were better because the joys were multiplied and shared by the taking of them from the basket of fishes and loaves and by the passing of them around.  And when the sorrows came, and came and came, well, it meant the world that sometimes without my even realizing it he had already reached over and lifted my burden of the yoke loosening its hold, freeing me to move and steady myself and breathe, again.


I've started sketching again, I was finding it so very hard to hear my own voice, and so one day when I should have been buying milk or bread or other more practical forms of sustenance I found wedged in my cart a sketch book and a thought that maybe when the milk and bread that I knew I'd eventually be sure to pick up, well, maybe when they were safely tucked into their rightful places I'd pull out a bit of graphite and with the gentlest of strokes draw out that little part of me that seems so very closest to my soul.

And I drew him, of all the busy things that my hands could have found to scratch and smudge and etch on to that blank page.  I found his eyes looking back at me and I thought, my goodness, how many long "kids in the bed cuddling" nights and days and years has it been since I'd studied that face.  Since I'd looked at it like an old master searching for shape and meaning and lines, those boldly beautiful lines, that fill a coldly barren canvas of a life, with emotion and depth and something of worth.


I sat down with old tools in my hands, they haven't changed much, the artist's implements, since we first ran our weary human fingers along the rock walls, surrounding ancient fires, with a yearning to create and express and bear witness.  I sat with a longing for a sort of finding of me in the hurried minutes of our lives.  

And, I unearthed an awareness of the gently curving lines of his face and saw for the first time the living we have done together nobly written there in strokes and grooves and smudges I had not before slowed long enough to see.


I can't explain the sweet stillness of form that joy takes when it alights upon your heart, filling you with the knowing that the thing you want most in this world is already yours, stained deeply upon your living, and that you, too, are so very much smudged upon his. 

live sweet, 

n 

And this song, that makes no sense, at all, 
but feels sort of like that joy landing gently upon a heart.

6 comments:

  1. Beautiful. What a warming dedication to play, to love and existence. xo

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  2. Touching post. So beautifully written and meaningful. Thank you for sharing your heart.

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  3. awww you are GREAT at being poetic!! what a gift you have..

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  4. You do have that quirky smile down, and I'm happy to see a trimmed beard. The fact you put details into that second photo impacted me deeply. Glad you have your sketch pad out again.

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  5. This is completely moving and not cheesy at all! I'm glad I found you through Naptime Review's Operation Fabulous. I'm now following you through GFC and twitter!

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  6. Good for you. It's important to find time for those things that make you happy! Found you from operation fabulous.

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