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