Buying the Farm

Photo: The mid winter remains of last summers spiral.

We will make another acre wide labyrinth of grass again this Summer. This time a triple spiral in the manner of of the sacred Celtic design found in the passage tomb of New Grange, Ireland. Feel free to contact me anytime this Summer if you would like to walk within the singing grasses of the land.

I have also created a small chapbook of poems called Buying the Farm, A summer of Poems.
I'd be happy to share a copy with you. Just contact me at ricksfarm@yahoo.com.
Here are a few excerpts:

Holy Things

Holy things show
themselves through surprise.

Like the island rising
over the shoulder of the road
when I was lost

Your glowing
face at the airport
curb

This white farmhouse
I’d passed by
for years

A poem tipping over
the edge of dawn, before
the newspaper hit the driveway

The perfume of the river
as we flew our open
windows across the bridge

Sunlight spearing
the crystal through
our breakfast table

A covey of quail
in the quivering
snowberry

The foghorn
I heard two hundred
miles from the sea.

The home I dreamed
of moments before
I woke in your arms.


And One More:



At the Dance in the City Without You

The dancing was a writhing sweat.
So many women
watching and searching.
One looks like you,
though younger.
Her desert eyes
deep and lonely
meeting my oceanic glances.

I turn away from her,
remembering that you’re home
with the children while I dance
free, a man all in black
pretending to be
of the city,
while the country claims me
now with coveralls and sawdust,
sickles in alfalfa,
roosters at dawn,
a scarred cat scratching
at the barn door.

The city eyes must
turn north, drinking in starry nights
as we sip beer on the back porch.

You and I are
the dancers in the dark mantle
that hovers above our orchard,
we the committed,
we the field
and the freeway home.

(c) R. Sievers 2009

Thanks
See you in the spiral.

Rick

Vision in the Turning

(Mother Tree (c) H. White)


Snow is in the forecast. But I’m dreaming of summer flying on my scooter. I’ve been considering the magic of vision and intention. How life follows where we look. In this case my scooter has been a teacher for me. There is magic in the art of motorcycle riding, just as there is magic in life choices. An example from riding is that wherever you turn your gaze the vehicle will follow. All the fiery forces of the 580cc engine will be guided by the simple look of the eyes. If you’ve ever driven a motorcycle you’d understand. Set the sight a hundred yards ahead on a specific point. The bike will always go right to that place, as if on its own volition.

I’ve spent the past month tossing in a sleepless haze, studying the challenges of my own mental health, scrutinizing the worries about our family. Last night I dreamt of flying two wheels around the serpentine song of Highway 14. I painted my dreams with the tree stone collide-a-scope of the Columbia Gorge. This morning the realities are still the same but the gaze is no longer a haze. I fly my scooter at night. I make my way the best I can in the day.

I found another example of how form follows vision at home this week. I removed the couch and table from the cabin. In their place I finally set up the easel. I also resurrected and installed the battered painting desk. That desk is splattered with last years dreams of this very place. I want to reinvasion my life again. So I pulled the bottles of paint out of the moving boxes. I figured if art is primary then art should be seen and then followed.


(Sun Flower (c) R. Sievers)

It’s funny that on the day of setting out the paint and tools we began a deeper connection through creating art as a family. The kids kept requesting art time. It just seemed to happen. One night we sat around the table painting. Another night it was Sculpey. Another night we made a communal drawing. We had fun in long moments of creativity this week. I’m curious about how making room for something new and just gazing in a new direction could bring healing through art. I wonder if just the act of putting the paints and pencils out created a new field of possibilities. We loved each other this week through colors. It was like the flying green of the forest and river as I followed my gaze from the scooter.

What are you looking at today? What possibilities are you setting out in your home? What mysterious corner has always tempted you? What colors do you want to paint in your vision?

Rick