This beginning point took me to the edge of the Scarborough Bluffs, where I have since my teens often stretched out with my feet over solid ground (I hoped and trusted) and my nose over the edge of the cliff, feeling the breezes reaching me from over the lake, and setting thoughts free to waft.
I've gone there in thunderstorms to be drenched and watch the dance of lightning over the lake; alone with thoughts I wanted to unload over the edge, and with friends and children to absorb the majesty of the Bluffs from above and down below where they seemed endless, the tufted upper edge framed by passing clouds unreal, unreachable, the lower lapped by waves arriving endlessly from away.
But when I sat down to draw, I wondered how heights call to us. Like "up" calls to a seed, a sprout bursting with water and energy from the soil, its casing split and drying behind it.
Growth from brokenness. Room for roots and sprouts and leaves, stroked by passing breezes carrying scents from where they have come.
The upward movement is so well expressed here that I feel myself being tugged upwards!
ReplyDeleteLovely thoughts and such an interesting image!
ReplyDelete