Six Months Between Sketches (Or Another Way Of Being Forthright)

Six months ago I sat at the edge of Oak Creek in Sedona with my dear friend Heather.

We had a conversation that moved me.

That helped shift and shape the current session of my dear IGNITE program as well.

I’m no stranger to this water’s edge.

I’ve sat there many times — and last year I let go of many dreams there as well.

So while we sat and chatted, I sketched.

Jotting down phrases and words that truly stood out and wanted to be seen.

Six months later I return to the same spot.

The snow of a Sedona winter had long time melted and this time I sat at the water’s edge while Phoenix splashed and played and Hansel laid beside me staring at the clouds.

I’ll be forthright and say that I wasn’t in the happiest of moods, even while surrounded by the healing grandeur of sweet Sedona.

Though I kept on sketching. And looking. And listening. And coaxing my emotions to float on by.

Maybe that’s why I left so much open space.  Or maybe that’s why things feel so contrived. Or maybe that’s why art heals, nature forgives, and life sometimes shows up as a clever animal.  Like a coyote or a finch or a hummingbird that refuses to stay around long enough to hear you whisper good bye.

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