This pastel began with my love affair with Spring, when the forest is flushed with gold and taupe and green, and the milky white dogwoods flutter in the breeze.The forest is still open. You peer into the cathedral and see life.
But as I worked, carving detail into the forest, I saw that I had set a stage. The dogwoods framed the forest, and became the curtains pulling back to reveal not just the blossoming forest but also a sacrifice.
Blue feathers still hang in the air.
Swiftly the fox moves, away from the center, towards the edges, the bluebird clasped in her mouth.
Ephemerality, as a word, describes something fleeting and transitory. And in this painting it is also a reference to the fleeting whispers of intuition, the rare guide within the body, the one we need to heed, the one that requires a sacrifice.
What bright thing distracts us from the tender perceptiveness of our bodies?
Let your intuition be the fox. And let your fox feed upon the bright things that distract you from your true joy, the joy your body hungers for. Be willing to sacrifice the bluebird for the wise and cunning fox, who lilts through the grasses of spring, loping through our beginnings and our endings, and all the spaces in-between, sensing more than the mind allows, moving off the stage and into the edges of our awareness.