Happy Thanksgiving

After returning from Washington and spending one night at home, I spent the last week with my father and his girlfriend, after my father had a hip replacement. He's recovering well but it's a pretty big deal at his age; probably at any age.

Blogging and online activity came to a halt, as I had no access to the internet except at a fast food restaurant at the other end of town, and at the town library, where I couldn't make phone calls. I'm still feeling the inner quietness of a week spent mostly offline: an involuntary fast that I now feel almost reluctant to break. Coming back, although I missed reading your blogs and corresponding by email with a number of people, I realize that a slower pace feels much better to me, and much more supportive of who I am and what I want to do creatively. It's too easy to get speedy and reactive, in this noise- and word-filled space; pretty soon you don't even notice it. I don't want that to happen again.

In that rural, hilly part of New York State, the landscape speaks to me at a great depth, and something within me responds. I feel drawn into silence, wonder, and calmness the same way I was as a child. The air is fresh and filled with the songs and flight of birds; clouds build up and blow across the skies; the crops ripen; the seasons progress. You feel connected to the earth, from the sun on your head to the texture of grass, or glacial gravel, or plowed land under your feet; the smell of the earth fills your nostrils.

When I had a chance, as I did errands or had brief visits with old friends, I took the back roads and looked at the landscape, finding myself remade in the odd, rich compost of memories and current self-awareness. The socio-economic climate in Chenango and Madison County is depressed, though some businesses -- such as Chobani yogurt -- are growing. I was sad at a lot of what I saw, and sad about current politics that have left so many people feeling abandoned, helpless, lost, and despairing. I was stunned by stories I heard about domestic violence and horrific car accidents; I clutched at every bit of good news and opportunity. But nature itself -- so glorious in the late autumn -- still gave its gifts to me. I came home with ideas for new artwork, and gratitude that seems fitting on this day when Canada thanks the earth for its abundance and beauty.

Comments

[Hattie]

It looks like heaven on earth there. I hope your father is on the mend. It is a big deal, and healing takes time.

[Rachel Barenblat]

Beautiful images, Beth. I'm glad there was something restorative in this trip for you.

[Tom]

For me, this is Nature at its colourful best.

[Kathy Hughes]

So lovely Beth! Hope your fathers mends well - please send your father our love and best wishes!!

[Andrew Hidas]

Getting sucked into the rapid-fire reactive pace of modern life is particularly insidious and reinforced from every corner of the work world. So then we try to make up for it by...getting sucked into the rapid-fire reactive pace of social life! Doing, going, enjoying, cavorting! Oy, getting tired just thinking about it, but these words & fotos are a balm, Beth, thank you!

[julia]

I try to bear in mind that I am a human being, and not a human doing
And sometimes I even remember that :)

Lovely pictures, especially the last one.
I think it would make a beautiful water colour?

[Kathryn]

You might find the books Buddha Standard Time and Hamlet's Blackberry interesting reading if you have not already read them.