"Still Waters Run Deep" - water-based ink and acrylic on aquabord, 6" x 6". Ready to frame, or can be leaned upon a shelf. Available on Artfinder. (FREE SHIPPING on Artfinder now through Monday!)
NARRATOR: A year passed. Winter changed into Spring. Spring changed into Summer. Summer changed back into Winter. And Winter gave Spring and Summer a miss and went straight on into Autumn. Until one day...
- from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Narrative Interlude Three
Time is a slippery eel.
Lately it seems to run faster and faster, racing through my hands like kite string on a gusty day.
My dad passed away in the spring. An entire season has come and gone now. It hardly seems possible. Somehow it feels disrespectful when time continues to move forward while we're grieving. Shouldn't there be a pause button? And yet the river of time flowing onward encourages me to also move on.
I was struck by another quote from Seven Thousand Ways to Listen this morning. "I know there is no place to go with your grief other than to feel it and ride it like a raft until that rough sea brings you to a strange, familiar shore that is both where you have been and entirely new." The changing of seasons is that - both something I have experienced and also something new. As the calendar pages turn, I feel the raft gently bumping the shore. My ears perk up, listening for something new, curious to find out what is beyond the rough seas.