Branches

I’ve walked beneath this archway

of branches so many times.

I barely make it through some days;

as the branches touch me lightly

I duck and continue onward.

But there is always a hollow space there,

made for a path

made by the many travelers

who have passed this way once before.

As I walk beneath

I can see how these branches reach to the other side-

Looking for something,

anything that could lead the way into winter.

week 41. Connections.

There is one section of the woods, right near the pond where the branches reach low and create a sort of archway where people can walk beneath. It’s almost like a tunnel of a sort. The branches are all the same kind of tree, thin wispy branches with colors that range from pale yellows to red. I got to thinking about how branches reach out to other branches. How we are constantly making connections all the time. Locking into ways to create security, strength and support. The arched pathway is one of my favorite places these woods. There’s something beautiful about the way paths form organically. I guess I’d like to believe that human connections are kind of the same. We meet others, we reach out, we try to form bonds and somewhere along the way we grow, leaning ever so slightly towards change.

Cherry tree

It was not even cold the day we arrived.

We walked through the quaint northern town,

gazing upon others as if we knew them by name.

Everywhere we went I saw a red cherry tree.

In each town square,

In every field and along dirt roads,

Every time, I had to stop and look from below.

Up, into the brilliant blue sky,

Into the specked array of red dots

refracted by the sun.

Even in November

as the weather plays its tricks

and the sun filters through each section,

somewhere the familiar stirrings

of the holidays are not far off.

Week 40. The familiar.

I went up to Vermont this weekend and traveled around a bunch of quaint New England towns. It was funny, everywhere I went I saw these beautiful trees with small cherry like fruits. They reminded me so much of a kind of mistletoe. This fall the weather has been quite mild, leaving me feeling a bit unprepared for the idea that the holiday season is almost here. Seeing these trees made me think about things that we are all too familiar with in our lives, things that we almost don’t notice anymore because we just expect them. All the things we assume will come without any effort. Sometimes we feel so familiar with those who we care for, maybe even too familiar. The word “family” and “familiar” must be related in this sense. Sometimes I forget how important close connections in my life are, they are significant because they root me back to what I know as true, and sometimes that’s a very good place to be.

Tiny red leaves

Each tiny leaf has it’s own way.

Some are still pale yellow;

offering me hope and opportunity.

Some are transitioning into red;

The strange world of two places at once.

And then there are the deep garnet colored leaves.

The ones that are there to guide me

Towards letting go of this branch;

something I’ve waited my whole life for.

Week 39. Mortality.

I’ve been thinking about how small events are there to help prepare us for greater events. Like for example, letting go. To me, this represents the idea of letting go of my own life eventually. I know that I struggle with letting go of many things in my life. Each one is a kind of preparation. I believe these small things give us tools so we are better equip to handle what’s to come. It makes sense to me that we would need to prepare ourselves emotionally and psychologically for something like death. Looking at the small experiences and seeing connections to a larger event may be one way of processing the big stuff.

A family of leaves

I look at each leave and it is clear they are related.

Each one is slightly different.

One larger.

One louder.

One never shows his hand.

So I place them in a line

and then into sections;

and wonder I how this is fair?

How can they be the same

when circumstances divide,

creating beautiful imperfections

and deep rooted scars

which forever remain.

Week 38. Brothers and sisters.

I have been collecting families of leaves these days. Examining the small differences between leaves from the same tree. It’s fascinating to notice the spots, the browning edges, and the splattered inky blotches. As I look at the variety within a single family of leaves I think about my siblings. I think about the things that divide us and the things that bond us together. There are things from our pasts that no other person has lived through but us. But now that we are older our lives seem to divide. I watch my brother struggling with radiation therapy and I think about how each one of us must make choices as to how we can help. I have come to realize that letting go of the hurt from the past is instrumental in being able to give unconditionally.

Collecting Leaves

Once in a while,

when I am walking through a forest,

I look down at the hundreds of leaves beneath my feet.

I remember that I have seen many lives,

I have collected them too along the way.

Then I go home

and open a book,

and there are the leaves once again.

Carefully pressed inside,

fading slowly,

but there to remind me

how far I had to walk.

Week 37. Organizing.

Some days the memories of the past come in and cause me to slow down and look very close, almost too close at times. I have to stop what I’m doing to reflect on the life I lived, the person I was back then. I know we all go there at times, to those dark places that cause us to want to be alone. There is no cure of coarse, and that sucks but there are moments of hope too, moments when we feel like it’s all been worth it. All the choices are the right ones and it was all meant to be. It seems as though reminders of how we made it through are so important. It can be an object, a song, a poem, anything. It’s remarkable how we need markers, like chapters that divide our lives into sections. I find it fascinating to think about how we are constantly trying to organize our minds the same way we do our everyday lives, seeking ways to put things away, ways to process what we lived through.

The grand leaf

Some trees shed the greatest of leaves.

So grand you cannot simply pass them by.

You must stand and look upon them

as more than single sided.

Turn it over you will see hundreds of variegations,

leading you off into all sorts of directions.

Week 36. The other side.

I found a huge leaf while walking the other day, so big it reminded me of an elephant ear. I turned it over to inspect the intricate network of veins, much like those in the human body. This habit of turning things over I seemed to have picked it up from my good friend Clare. One day, while walking through a flea market together we came upon a pile of interesting fabric scraps. I pulled out a few quilt squares that caught my eye. As I was looking at the patchwork scraps, admiring the color combinations and textures Clare immediate turned each square over to look at the backs. She explained “the reverse sides are always much more interesting”. I had never thought about it like that before. We show the neat, organized self but it seems more important to notice the process of what it takes to get there, the stuff most people don’t see. This idea reminded me of a line in a play I saw recently. One of the main characters said, “It’s more important what we can not talk about than that which we choose to discuss”. It’s kind of the same thing when you think about it. Examining what we choose not to show is really the part that we should look at, how else can we understand how we are made.

Leaves

I’ve been looking up

into the trees.

Into the rays of the sun;

the way it peeks through the branches,

allowing tiny pockets of warmth

and minutes at a time

to be still.

The trees are changing that is true.

I continue to walk,

collecting the leaves as they fall.

Searching for variety;

for the subtle differences between each one.

Each pattern is a map.

Each possibility natures way

of saying that every path

is the right one.

week 35. Variations and paths.

I have been walking through the woods looking for leaves these days, seeking out all sorts of varieties of shapes, colors and textures. I began to think about how many possibilities we encounter each day and all the variables that affect the choices we make. Wouldn’t it be easier to have a map or better yet a GPS in order to know which path to choose? I guess I’m much more at peace when I let go of that idea though. When I stop worrying so much about where I’ll end up and just try to notice what’s in front of me.

But my walks in the woods got me thinking about the simple act of walking as well. There’s not much needed really in order to walk, just the desire to move forward and that can be done even with out legs. I think that creating art is the same way, you have to just get in there and do it, there is only so much thinking you can do. At a certain point it’s better to just make the mess and then worry about how to clean it up. Wisdom seems to come from the process of moving forward, what ever the out come we grow from noticing what we feel, what we see, even what we collect along the way.