Don’t force the wood (Life lessons)

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What a great idea I thought. Wood carving would be a just the thing to indulge my creative leanings. Having fours years of study and a BA in sculpture under my belt I figured I could easily adapt.
Boy was I wrong! I’d mostly used clay, plaster etc. any past wood creations being the result of industrial power tools. The only thing I’d carved by hand was plaster of paris.
I soon discovered my mistake, not only was it hard work, but it just didn’t “flow”. The first simple relief came out well, only to be followed by three half finished free standing carvings. I finally got the point. I wasn’t learning about wood, how it grew, how “IT” flowed. I was merely trying to stamp an image on it. Wood is a living thing, to carve it you must know it intimately.
I pondered, isn’t life like that? We try to put our stamp upon it, shape it to our desire but we find forces working against us. We discover irreparable splits can occur when we hit in the wrong place. We have to understand the forces at work in our lives in order to flow with them, to step back and really look at latent possibilities we don’t notice if we are too intent to “get to work”.
So, I’ve decided, I’ll take some lessons from the master carpenter. This will be fun and far less work!

Shattered.

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from August 2014

Song Bird Songs

crystal

Julie looked at the shattered pieces of crystal in her hand. It once had been a bird; wings spread soaring the heavens. Now it lay in jagged shards, like the remnants of their love, too beautiful and fragile a thing to survive the impacts of life. Her fingers closed tightly around the pieces, as if trying to weld it together, but they merely cut into her fingers.
It had been a wedding gift, on a day of sunshine and light, of soaring updrafts and smiles. Now black clouds loomed ever closer. Wings that had lifted her heart were crushed never to find the sun.
How had it ended? The forces of earth exerted pressures the fragile thing had been unable to bare. It had no flexibility, she understood that now. Unable to bend, to forgive his flirtation, she had exploded in a torrent of unforgivable words that shattered the beauty…

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Living Fountains

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fount

A life filled with God’s spirit is like a fountain. It may turn and twist, swirl and flow, breaking forth sometimes in leaping cascades when channeled through a narrow place.

If your life has been through “narrow pipes” recently maybe it is so you can burst forth in leaping heights and shower many with your cool blessings,

Even constraints have their uses. The restricted flow and pressure forces them upward to burst forth in splendor!

(“Out of their belly shall flow living fountains!”)

Shattered.

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crystal

Julie looked at the shattered pieces of crystal in her hand. It once had been a bird; wings spread soaring the heavens. Now it lay in jagged shards, like the remnants of their love, too beautiful and fragile a thing to survive the impacts of life. Her fingers closed tightly around the pieces, as if trying to weld it together, but they merely cut into her hands.
It had been a wedding gift, on a day of sunshine and light, of soaring updrafts and smiles. Now black clouds loomed ever closer. Wings that had lifted her heart were crushed never to find the sun.
How had it ended? The forces of earth exerted pressures the fragile thing had been unable to bare. It had no flexibility, she understood that now. Unable to bend, to forgive his flirtation, she had exploded in a torrent of unforgivable words that shattered the beauty of their love.
It was just crystal, not a diamond she realized, diamonds do not shatter, but diamonds are formed, in the depths and pressures of the earth, they don’t just happen.
A sound at the door startled her from her revelry, a key turning for the last time. He was here to get his things. She brushed her eyes – too late.
“What’s wrong?” the voice was tinged with concern.
“The bird it broke… like us…” She unfolded fingers revealing shattered remains.
“It doesn’t need to be this way. It was your choice, not mine.” There was an edge of bitterness, sharp as the shards. “I told you, it was nothing, just a stupid mistake. I still love you. Life is messy sometimes…”
She looked down at the shards, though broken they still reflected light, perhaps more so. It could never be as before, but perhaps all was not lost, though the illusion of perfection was shattered forever, looking at the pool of fractured rainbows in her hand she searched his eyes glimpsing a faint glimmer of hope.
Pouring the shards into a wine glass she placed them on the shelf where the bird had been. They would remind her.