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Is it any wonder?

The coming of spring is a preparation like no other — reminding us with every breath that just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. 

What meets the eyes is dead and brown.  Bare to the bone. 

And yet.

We feel life moving beneath the surface.  Sense the change that is coming.  Smell the possibilities.

Sure, the pace is uneven.

We leap one step forward and then hobble two steps back.  Waking limbs tingle with pricks of pain.  And sometimes the sheer neverness and bleakness of it all breaks us in two.  Forces us to cry out, “gimme the epidural — NOW!”

And then.

Maybe we do get dumped on again — but hey, it melts overnight.  And maybe we do need to hang on to those gloves and that ice scraper — but hey, they have a way of disappearing just about the time they’re not needed anyway.

So we decide to let go a little bit and then a lot a bit.  Set it on the back burner.  Then throw it to the wind. 

And then.

In an instant, what was inside is suddenly outside.  Utterly and completely formed — more perfectly than we could ever imagine. 

And should we live to see a million springs, it is the spring of the present —

The life in this very moment — that will always amaze us most. 

My art flows from the patterns & paths of my lived experience which ⏤ like yours ⏤ are at once deeply personal and entirely universal.

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