It's been quite some time since I've posted. But today I hung a copy of this picture and this poem in the brand new Emery Community Arts Center on the University of Maine at Farmington campus. It's the first time I have done such a thing and I'm truly grateful to be part of a show that Penny Hood, local artist, has put together that features an array of artistic interpretations of her theme... we... are connected. It is sweetly satisfying to have a small part in, to feel a belonging to, this endeavor. Here's a link to more info about it -
http://inside.umf.maine.edu/
The poem is one I've posted before, but made changes to after I decided to share it at my father's memorial service. And so it seems fitting to post this today along with the words I wrote to accompany my piece.
Slow Dance
Careful circles above the fray provide perspective and distance,
room for reflection, a bird’s eye view with time
to twist the lens for further acuity.
Each turn of this slow dance makes way for more to unwind,
leading to relief and new insights.
Round and round -
circles cross and connect to become interwoven,
creating a sweet, soft tapestry that envelops a being
so that it is finally safe to let go of all that no longer serves.
Settling into a new way to be, freeing a true self,
feeling worthy of fully experiencing
the wonders of the universe.
Deep realization that by trusting the connectedness,
feeling the love, believing in the light
it is safe and right to spread strong, steady wings,
join the winds of change
and soar.
Sarah Carlson
And the words to my 'bio' that are hanging next to the photo and poem:
Connecting to the natural world has always been a part of my life. Sensations, feelings, deep understandings that come to me as I hike, pedal, ski, paddle in our beautiful part of the world began to surface in a poetic voice as I adjusted to life after the sudden loss of my husband, Barry. Eventually that voice and photography merged as I found new ways to express my process. This piece emerged after a lovely experience with a bald eagle. I read it to my father, long my biggest fan, as he lay non-responsive, yet peaceful, in the Togus Hospice this past fall. In doing so, I felt a connection to him that went beyond words and images.
