The Pathless Path

Microseason No. 22, May 21-25

When this project began back in Microseason No. 1, I knew exactly what I was making.

Now I have only the faintest inkling.

I think it’s better this way.

I’m claiming this space in the spirit of the ever-changing microseasons, rather than from a need for perfect order and control. I want to make something that reflects my simple way of connecting with the wild holiness of nature.

The one constant in this project is my commitment to the practice of walking contemplatively and noticing what I notice. I’m letting that inspire me, as it has done since childhood. I’m giving myself permission to really pay attention to the smallest things, to see what stirs in me— and to let that be Enough.

So this microseason, I’m "dwelling in the air and all the greenness” and really loving the specimens coming out of my plant press. Preserving a 3-dimensional living object feels so tender. It’s hard to place them in the press, but the metamorphosis is a joy.

I’ve been adding these wonders to my microseasons sketchbook, which is slowly taking shape. On this page you’ll see how Jack-in-the Pulpit and Wild Ginger hold up amazingly well to the process of pressing and drying.

Sometimes just the right image awakens me. The face is from Rogier van der Weyden’s, Madonna and Child, painted about 1460. I love this contemplative expression and often use the peace of it to inspire a quietness as I work.

This face is part of my collection of “Lego” pieces which I’ve shown you before. The pieces are so easy to make: I print images in black and white ink onto cardstock, cover this with clear gesso, and use a bit of watercolor or pencil to finish.

I love to move these pieces around making free-form collages and icons that help me clarify my thoughts about what’s happening in my life.

I hope your projects are satisfying right now.

I hope you’re letting them have some breathing space to unfold in a way that might surprise you. The creative life can be quiet and gentle. Every day you can drink from the well of inspiration that is older than Time. Draw up an overflowing bucket of that cool water and drink deeply. Make something with your hands that feels good to make.

Maybe you’ll share it— or maybe it’s just for you.