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May 2009

Source to sink. From bubbly springs to quiet pools, sloshing around bends and eroding obstacles, a current goes where it must go.

Discontinuity. Rivers change course. Solid earth bends and breaks. Things slip by.

A thing defined by what it is not.

Deep entanglement. Roots get well established as spring engages summer. Now the real growth begins.

New leaves, rain, stems, deeper green, soil, dry leaves, watering, new leaves, rain...and an improvised rhythm emerges like a high hat cymbal solo expertly played.

One buds, one blooms and one withers. From an individual stem to a full season, everything has a peak moment.

What happens when I improvise? Sometimes I discover diagrams that point the way to a complex feeling. Or I map the space surrounding an emotional state so my mind fills in the blank. Or my thoughts delaminate and reveal their root causes. Or I just flow with it and dig the result.

The strawberries, basil, tomatoes, peas and cucumbers all got flowers this week. It seems essential that to grow to their full potential they must create something beautiful and open it up to the world.

A third day of spillover and the message is starting to sink in. We're navigating an endless flow of images. The images collect day by day and persistent themes form layers. But the flow can't be contained. Is that a waterfall ahead?

Yesterday's drawing has spilled over into today. Maybe my recent experience of uncovering a spring also uncovered something in my unconscious. I'm paying attention because persistence of imagery is significant and I want to get the message.

One day spills into the next. One idea leads to another. While our thoughts come and go like water, do they temporarily pool?

Since I moved here a year ago I have been rethinking the boundary between our woods and meadow. I feel like this in between area should be distinct and inviting. Today my neighbor brought over his excavator and helped me tear out all the huge thorny shrubs that were blocking the way. As luck would have it, buried in the bramble we found a natural spring and small pool that I think will make a lovely place to sit.

The outer world and the inner world. Which one is bigger?

Endless river. I've been sketching this looping flow for a couple of days and playing with the overlaps and colors. I think it diagrams a creative state that is characterized by few demands or interruptions.

The sun shines both day and night. How do we change from dark to bright?

A passing thought. A spring shower. A single wave on a beach.

The nature of empathy? I thought this drawing was about flow until I considered the complicated reflection of one stack on (or in) the other.

One thing in front of another thing. First consider the color of the thing. Second consider the color of the thing we look through to see the first thing. Third consider the color they make together. And don't start me on the geometric distortions or I'll fill up the page.

Most nights pass for me in blissful emptiness. I usually dream during the day when I draw.

Earth and water mixing. New growth all around. A visit to the city in between.

The water cycle. Even with all the states and dilutions it passes through in this loop, the water molecule remains unchanged.

I'm still thinking about oppositional forces that support each other. Can this idea be applied to moments in time? Does the present moment emerge from the balance of past and future?

I found some flat stones when I cleaned out under the deck last Saturday morning. In the afternoon I hauled them out and built a small arch. I started by making two stacks of rocks and then tipping the tops toward each other. I used my fist to keep the towers apart as I wedged the final stone in between. This gave me a real physical understanding of how the force of each tower falling over was being used to support the other side.

When a river meets an ocean how does the water change?

Longer days. Rearranged hours. Winter tension easing.

We are building a garden with our neighbors and today's drawing seems to point to my devoted practice of removing sod.

Oxbows echo flow.

Four (or more) transparent planes.

Nothing is unconnected. When a new thing appears in the world it is the synthesis of many threads and unfolds many meanings.

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