Acrylic on canvas

Awake and Aware came to play in the ordinary, everyday of the first lonely year.
Seed by seed and leaf by leaf my wild roused.
My garden grew me.
The wildweed whispered.
Dig, plant and clarify with sunshine and water.
Let chlorophyll Unchain your consciousness.
The wildweed sighed, ‘Come, Eat my colours,
Ingest and digest my chlorophyll. Make ready for your inner seeds to speak’
The wildweed mumbled, ‘thirteen moons, thirteen moons’.
The wildweed murmured, listen to the trees. Their wisdom is needed. Paint their message.
My blood stirred gently around the wheel of the year from the Winter solstice to winter solstice, through Imbolc, Beltane, Laughnasa and Samhain.
Then winter tugged on the door to my internal sanctum. A new lonely covid year.
And the trees hummed, ‘Ritual. Thirteen moons. It is time to nurture your secret garden.
Come to the canvas. It is a Thin Place, a portal to the Otherworld.
A veil between worlds.
Ritual will rethread your consciousness.
Ritual will retrieve your wild spirit from the feral protectors of your anguished mind.’
The quiet voice of the trees thrummed in my veins.
Be present.
Stay with Now.
One step at a time.
The journey mapped on my sleeve through the ebb and flow of thirteen moons.
At the last moon an iterative switch. A pivot. A flip.
The weeds and the trees brought me here.
In the Now
Their photosynthesis enables my breath.
The forest is my lifeline, the trees my original mother.
Awake and Aware came to play in the ordinary, everyday.
I feel the ebb and flow of the moon now pushing and pulling my stream of consciousness.
Ritual with paint continues to transform my life.
Paint matters.