blue horses
Jan 20 Written By Marian Bosch
The new year has begun and once again I find myself in that in-between space that is so familiar to us all. Where do I begin? How do I proceed? I have pushed myself out of my comfort zone during a recent camping trip and I have the best intentions to embrace this new adventure with as little baggage as possible to bring along on future journeys. There is more freedom in less. The experience of building a house with my loved one has prepared me well, even rain and wind did not deter me. at home, I asked my hairdresser to strip the color out of my hair, I'm turning 60 after all. This is a big step, I like it. My late brother Cornelius's paintbrushes were found in a box in the studio, stacked high. I don't know why on earth he needed that many, but they are beautiful and I love looking at them. I will definitely use some of them. In the lockdowns last year, I practiced my oil painting skills, a departure from my deeply ingrained monochromatic way of working. According to my observers, I have a tendency to repeat things over and over again without realizing it. It's true, I am like that. Change is a work in progress. A limited palette calms my overwhelmed self. Through colour mixing, I am slowly discovering new possibilities. A year later, it doesn't seem so overwhelming. My courage has grown.
I would like to go into the year reminded by this poem by my favourite poet Mary Oliver :
i dont want to be demure or respectable (from blue horses by mary oliver)
i was that way, asleep for years
that way you forget too many important things. how the little stones, even if you cant hear them, are singing
how the river can’t wait to get to the ocean and the sky, its been there before.
what a travelling is that!
it is a joy to imagine such distances.
i could skip sleep for the next hundred years
there is a fire in the lashes of my eyes
it doesn’t matter where i am it could be a small room
the glimmer of Bohme saw on the kitchen pot was missed by everyone else in the house
maybe the fire in my lashes is a reflection of that
why do i have so many thoughts, they are driving me crazy
why am i always going anywhere instead of somewhere?
listen to me or not, it hardly matters
i’m not trying to be wise, that would be foolish
i’m just chattering
