I attended my Pairings Event on July 26th at the Yarmouth County Museum on Collins Street in Yarmouth to read my two short stories I wrote for local artists, Ivan Blades and Carole Rogers. This is an annual event for writers and artists to get together and work. It was well attended and everyone enjoyed the art and food provided! Here's the paintings, short stories I wrote plus a few pictures of the event.
~There are also limited post-card editions available at the Museum for those who would like a copy for sharing or treasures. Hope you enjoy!
It’s been almost four years. The last time I looked, you were a little older grayer and worse off, maybe, than before. I realized watching you are still hiding behind the mask you wore as a youth. The one I fell for, head-over-heels. Do you remember those first summer days? Basking in hot sun, watching the sea roll up to kiss your toes? Sneaking a peek at me over a cup of coffee? The freedom of a bridle-less ride on a white horse? So many things that brought us together, nice and not so nice...
As I sit looking out my window, remembering every word you ever said. There wasn't that many, after all. Phrases that meant the most were never uttered. They burst forth in a vibration of caring that moved the mind, body and spirit for each of us. Every embrace more entwined than the last. Time has gone by. We are different now but still the same inside. A smile crinkles up my lips. Believe that I know it’s still there. Don't think for a moment it will ever stop. We build our relationship on that what we cannot touch with our hands. Speak your truth, if that’s what you desire. No matter what is said, love will return, every morning, in a brilliant white light.
Darkness. The white crescent moon hangs still in the night sky. Pulling my sweater closer, I walk in silence down the twisted path. The shadows of the forest never hampered my direction. After a few minutes, I hear the ocean. Steadily it rolls in the salty air. Arriving on the beach, the waters dance in the dim moon light. Putting a match to my all-ready prepared pile of driftwood, the flames quickly engulfed the dry timbers, warming my hands as I listened to the woods behind me moan in tune to the waves. Slowly my friends began to arrive though the forest path, each drawn there for their own reason. We talk of our time away from each other, bringing a mixture of knowledge for reflection.
An owl hoots in the old black spruce as clouds pass over. A prayer is offered to Mother Earth as we commence, vibrating the body, mind and spirits of all participants. I start to tap my drum as the other drummers begin. We blend in rhythmic tones. Our hearts combining as one was our souls unite in a sacred bliss of rhythms. As we wind thru the journey of the music, we all reach out to our Master, asking for direction, blending the love and wisdom of ancient ancestors into harmony. Winding down to a soft tap of the drum skin, we end our chant. After hugging, we part ways, again, leaving the dying fire, each belonging to the Sun and Moon cycles, we all agree.