A couple of years ago I was commissioned to some artwork. She told me the colors in the room and then gave me free reign. I'd seen an image of an old door with stone stairs leading down. So I began creating my world on canvas. Interestingly, in the midst of it's creation, I read a newsletter from Nikol Rogers. It was about tending the moss. I've always been struck by this synchronicity and I felt like it lead me to some answers of why I was drawn to the deep mossy areas of the steps. I was inspired to write about it while I was working.
The door is not what you think.
We are told all our lives that when one door closes, another opens.
Is it an obstacle or a possibility? that door
Must we search for the key? is the key what is needed?
Or is what is needed, the key?
That way may lay wondrous mysteries; our brain likes to think about those prospects, in bright shiny glowing images with a trill of music, always looking forward.
And yet my feet hesitate….my hand falls to my side
I am drawn to the depths…
Down there is the cool.
Is it ominous? That dark?
Or is it simply peace.
The mosses have consumed.
They come to disturbed sites, stabilize, and make space for new growth.
Quietly, slowly, firmly. Not active, yet steady. It beckons
Possibly my soul is seeking to not seek.