
WINTER'S LOSS: BRINK OF SPRING by Shannon White copyright 2006
When I painted this painting several years ago, I t was realizing the need to “learn to fly” by leaving the familiar nest, to use the knowledge I had grown fat with for lack of use. I am in favor of learning by sitting in chair, listening, processing and gleaning to a certain extent. I hope I continue to learn and share throughout my entire lifetime in many different ways, as we all have something of value to offer each other. At some point, one has to begin to try what one has learned in the real world,though, to live, experience, learn more, try, take informed risks, fail and begin again. This, too, is a vital part of the learning process and also of the propagation of future generations of learning and of sustaining life.
As I painted this painting, I noticed empty nests everywhere, especially in the work of other artists, symbolizing a season of life, in which the artist had experienced some sort of winter and was participating in a sort of springtime. These images acknowledged with a frankness and consideration of the role of loss as seasonal and temporary but that the empty feeling left behind is very real. This is what I am experiencing now, as our family has experienced the tragic loss of our son to an unexpected cancer, the heightened emotions, the dullness and dampness, the questions, and still the occasional joy of living, the comforting arms and the faithfulness of God. The winter of loss is painful and chilling and cruel, but I look forward to the decay-composted ground revealed beneath the melting snow in its richness of new beginnings ushered in by the delicious breath of Spring, premempting the eternal. This also embodies the spirit of the Easter season in a personal way for me. Birdsongs will reemerge as nests are rebuilt, and the trees will grow green and fruitful again, my dear.
The following is an original poem I wrote about the same time I painted the above painting:
SOUL HOUSE
by Shannon White copyright 2006
Don’t say goodbye,
Sad, sad song.
The tree is about to bud
And the snow is
Melting around my heart.
Rouse me under the apple tree,
And stay awhile.
Darkest waters,
Cold and glassy
Stream over me,
As I lie and gaze
At the bright stars,
Letting the water
Wash away my tears.
I sleep till misty morning,
Swaddled and warm;
Someone has cared for me in the night.
Eyes still shut,
But the light is dawning its mad colors.
Laughter shakes the air around me,
And the storm changes the color of the grass.
Everything vibrates now.
You don’t have to see it to believe it.
The sorrowful song is still in my heart,
But it has a glad twist.
Listen to the birds being themselves —
Oh, there is no shutting them out!
Pieces of music and chattering twitter,
Clarion tones of flutes and chimes,
Feathered instruments of Grace.
Even somber whistles resonate in the soft silence and
Carry on the wind the sound of Freedom.
Nest in my soul,
Bird of Paradise.
Make your Home with me here.
YOU CAN VIEW MORE TREE THEMED ART AROUND LAWRENCE THIS MONTH.
Posted in Art, Caden White, Healing Through Art, Journal, Painting, Uncategorized
Tags: hope, LOSS, NEST, TREE
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