I once ran in the green field of time. It was grass green under blue sky. It was an oak tree that was mine. I had thoughts then, more than a child. They weren’t filled worries, problems, stresses, no long road of miles and miles . . . .In those times, thoughts didn’t dare bother me I was meant to make sure the sun shines I was keeper of the stories and mysteries. Sweet dreams sought me out every night. I would dream of places that I might be, places I might find peaceful gardens where flower grow taller than I do and animals are not afraid of a small child.
But the inches came taller, taller. I was a child bigger than the tales I dreamed. So slowly the simple thoughts faded and I stayed inside, working, working. never running on green grass even in my mind. Oh how seriously I became. Oh how steady my feet stayed. Oh how I would walk in places that I had run, gardens that once were peaceful became escape from my mind which grew fuller and fuller with nagging worries and details, more details than I knew could assault what should be a relaxing time.
How to get back to what I had known before was the question? How do I do that before I forget that I knew it at all?
I learned to paint today. I’m not a painter. That wasn’t the choice or the reason. I splatter paint in real Jackson Pollack style. It was a memory not a work of art I needed then.
I needed to find that little girl who ran in the green field of time under a blue sky out to the oak tree that was all mine.
She was waiting. Just as I hoped and I knew she would be.
−me strauss Letting me be
8 comments:
She was waiting. Just as I hoped and I knew she would be.
And what a marvelous reunion you must have had!
I think that one of the most important works of our adult lives is to go in search of the Child of spontaneity, creativity and play.
Thank you for this affirmation and reminder.
Hi Dawn!
You are like the sunrise who greets me. Thank you for this morning messge each day. It keeps me writing and knowing that it's important to do that.
Liz,
what a poetic post!
not everyone is a painter, but some of us do strive to be one at some point in our lives.
i remembered once in high school i submitted an art piece for a competition. break the rules, i said to myself, so i painted a sun with black colours, trees like tilted skycrapers, all with thick brush strokes. the art teacher's face turned white. it clinched the competition and won me my first monetary reward. Nothing much since. :)
enjoyed this post.
(dunno what happened to my little red logo!)
Break the rules, Dsnake! Yes!
How cool that you didn't color inside the lines. Even better that you took the art teacher by surprise. That's the poet and writer in you. You can't write images that you can't see. :)
Some of your posts I don't connect with because of the way I percieve my childhood. I don't often think there is much to connect with or reclaim. So posts like this go unfelt by me...until I'm driving and find myself wandering aimlessly backwards.
I read part of a book today that prompted me to go there, otherwise I try to leave that time well enough alone. I choose to wander through the magical times and leave the plethora of other stuff alone. I realized that there is a lot for me to reconnect with. More than I ever could have imagined. My little girl was not as broken as I assumed she was, she was smarter than I am now I think.
Ironic that I realize this and your beautiful, playful words are quietly looking up at me, behind me waiting for me to turn around and notice them. This post is my 5 year old self handing me the piece of paper saying READ ME!! REMEMBER ME
I only respond to your posts if I can feel them, I'm glad I'm learning that I can feel this one!
Thank You Liz
Katrina
Katrina,
What you wrote is beautiful. I'm so glad you're finding how strong you are.
Cool.
Take Care
Michael
Thanks, Michael!
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