Kites

I’ve always been quite mesmerized by kites. I was never sure why they intrigued me so, but throughout high school and college the margins in every clean notebook was soon filled with small illustrations (thanks in part to my short attention span)  of kites attempting to fly, kites crashing to the ground and kites soaring high. While in grad school, these pen drawings turned into paintings – watercolor, acrylic, oil – I have a dozen or so of each. I bought shadow box frames for 4 of these paintings and hung them on the wall, ascending up the staircase in the entrance to my house. These are by far not the “best” of the kites, but something about the simplicity of them puts a smile on my face every time I walk upwards, into the kitchen.

I’ve been thinking of posting them on here for some time, but had been struggling with the words to post with them. Then I happened (not on coincidence, I don’t believe in coincidences) to stumbled upon this poem by John Newton this afternoon. After reading it a couple times, there was no need to come up with anything else on my own.

Once on a time a paper kite

Was mounted to a wondrous height,

Where, giddy with its elevation,

It thus expressed self-admiration:

"See how yon crowds of gazing people

Admire my flight above the steeple;

How would they wonder if they knew

All that a kite like me can do!

Were I but free, I'd take a flight,

And pierce the clouds beyond their sight,

But, ah! like a poor pris'ner bound,

My string confines me near the ground;

I'd brave the eagle's towering wing,

Might I but fly without a string."

It tugged and pull, while thus it spoke,

To break the string--at last it broke.

Deprived at once of all its stay,

In vain it tried to soar away;

Unable its own weight to bear,

It fluttered downward through the air;

Unable its own course to guide,

The winds soon plunged it in the tide.

Ah! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,

How could'st thou fly without a string!

My heart replied, "O Lord, I see

How much this kite resembles me!

Forgetful that by thee I stand,

Impatient of thy ruling hand;

How oft I've wished to break the lines

Thy wisdom for my lot assigns?

How oft indulged a vain desire

For something more, or something higher?

And, but for grace and love divine,

A fall thus dreadful had been mine."

--John Newton

Red Sky

I find it incredibly fascinating that we can hear a song 100 times and not think much of it until one day, without expecting it, that same song can hit us upside the head with a message so clear that we are amazed at how we managed to miss it before.  Here is one that struck me in that way.

"Red Sky" - Brandon Heath

I saw Brandon perform this song this past October in Charlotte. I had heard the song a few dozen times, but it wasn’t until seeing Brandon in front of me, telling of its story that I actually listened to it.

In June 2009 I felt like the world around me that I had worked so hard for had come crashing down all at once. Among several other things, I had lost a job that I absolutely loved. I felt as though there was no possible way that things could turn around.

It took me some time to overcome that feeling of anger towards what had happened. I then heard ‘Red Sky” and felt an almost automatic peace.

Daylight fades into the ground, 
Oh Lord I need you now
Cover me with the red sky tonight
The promise of a better day to come

It’s because of that “promise” that I know that it will be okay. God doesn’t make mistakes and whatever he is stirring up in my life is certainly not a mistake either.

I don’t know what’s in store for the next 3, 6, 12 months. I can list off several things that I would like to see happen, and I will do what I can to see them through, but I find comfort in knowing that in the end, it’s in God’s hands. And because of that trust, it will turn out to be far better than any of the outcomes that I could plan.

Its a red sky,
Its a red sky,
Tonight.

Destination

Sometimes I think that it would be nice to know my destination - to know the exact application to fill out, the right job to take, the one stranger who will change my life. Wouldn’t that be so much easier? So much of life’s uncertainties would be eliminated!

Uncertainty can be scary, it can make us not want to go forward and try new things.

But in that uncertainly, we grow, we discover what is important and what isn’t, we learn from our mistakes and become stronger because of it.

This is the battle I fight daily. I just want to “get there”, I want the job, the family, the white fence and two dogs playing in the yard. But what I’ve come to understand recently is that if it weren’t for the time and experiences gained in the process, it won’t be worth it in the end.

I think about all of the friendships, experiences and lessons I would miss along the way if I walked through life with tunnel vision, with only my destination in mind. Each person that I cross paths with was put there for a reason, whether it is to observe their sorrow or admire their strength – no one in my life is there on accident.

As I look ahead, I’m not sure what to expect. But I know that it will be okay… it will be better than okay. That’s the amazing thing about having Faith. As much as I try to plan and set the course for my life, there will always be uncertainties, but I’m ready to embrace them, learn from them and let them take me forward.

Coffee

I can never seem to properly estimate the amount of water to pour into the coffee maker. Nine times out of ten, I significantly over do it, leaving a least a good two cups to go to waste.

That left over coffee sits in the pot, eagerly waiting for its time to be enjoyed, but alas, it habitually gets poured down the drain the next time I start a fresh pot.

Perhaps it’s that I subconsciously wait for the day when a fellow coffee drinker will walk into the kitchen and say “Thanks for the coffee, dear”, pick up his cup and join me for a cuppa joe as we sit and laugh over a joke only we understand.

Or maybe I’m just really bad at guesstimating how much water to use (this also applies when making oatmeal).

As I walked downstairs this morning and saw yesterday’s gloomy, leftover coffee stare at me, I hesitated. I knew that no one would be joining me, not today anyways.  I sympathetically said “Fear not, stale coffee, today you will have a purpose”.

I poured the old coffee into a shallow dish, picked up a paintbrush and we sat down at the table together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The process I used for this was dripping the coffee onto the paper over and over… and over to build layers of color. The 4 day continual process has indeed been a lesson in patience.

Seasons

I love the change of seasons.

I didn’t realize just how much I would welcome this change four times a year until I moved to North Carolina. Prior to June 2007, I knew only of two seasons – Winter, and a poor attempt of two months passing themselves off as summer (I’m looking at you July and August, you did not fool me with your cloudy skies and highs only in the med-80’s!).

But since moving I have discovered that there really are four seasons, it isn’t a myth! I think what I like most is that the change always offers a clean start. New seasons bring new activities, new opportunities.

I don’t think I’d like to live someplace where it was always warm. I joke that my next move is down to Florida, but really, I do enjoy the cooler months. I can’t imagine never being able to see my breath in the cold or wanting to curl up with hot chocolate and a sweatshirt.

Given the two extremes, New York and Florida, I am quite content in North Carolina.

Now that I am on my third time around experiencing each season in NC, the differences between each of them and the seasons in NY are pretty clear.

Let’s talk about fall, my favorite time of year, or so it has become. Growing up, the first snowfall would usually come sometime in October when winter would burst in unwelcomed, usually around Halloween - snowsuits under costumes were the norm.  I have now come to know fall as a revitalizing time of year. The air is crisp, the temperature starts to drop, but is still warm enough to be outside enjoying it.  Out come the scarves and fleece jackets, and I must say, I am a big fan of fleece jackets.  I have yet to make it to the western part of the state to see the mountains during this time, but I’ll get out there eventually. I am also a sucker for anything pumpkin. And a State fair in October? This concept was ridiculous to me at first, seeing as though in NY the threat of cold weather would most likely dampen an October fair, but it now makes perfect sense.  I like fall.

Winter, or least the winters I have grown up with,  and I have a love-hate relationship, mainly because New York winters are just too darn long, its like a houseguest who has overstayed their welcome and all of the subtle hints you drop just seems to have no effect, it isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I do however love, love, LOVE the first snowfall, there is something magical about it.  My well developed skills in dressing in layers are put to the test, but I succeed. New Yorkers are troopers – it snows 4 feet and life goes on. Last year in NC we had a nice snowfall, 5 or so inches - the town shut down. I curled up on the couch with all of the critters (Luther, Miles & Lucy) and it was the perfect setting for a marathon of The Office. Later on I instigated a snowball fight. However, come March winter knew when it was time to pass the torch onto spring.

In grade school, come March/April we’d talk about spring and the birds chirping and flowers starting to bloom. I’d look outside and see a foot of snow on the ground – not quite how it looked in our picture books.  The year I moved down here, I was amazing with how much heat lightning there was. I’d sit on the balcony of my apartment and watch it for hours. There simply isn’t anything more relaxing than a spring thunderstorm at night. The first day of wearing shorts is also very exciting.

My Carolina summers thus far have been filled with sun and waves. The beach scene in New York isn’t exactly hoppin’ so now I really enjoy day, weekend and even week-long trips to the coast. The afternoon naps in the hammock at the Outer Banks house were simply lovely. My first summer in NC there was 5 consecutive days of temperatures over 100, however, I can handle the heat, bring it!

What do you enjoy the most about each season?

Sy Road

While in 9th grade, my normal bus route was combined with another route for a day. We ran the other route first. The bus stopped at 7000 Sy Road and a boy, who I did not know, jumped up from the seat behind me and walked down the aisle to get off. It took all of my might to not follow him.

I hadn’t been inside the house since I was 6, but it was still “my house”, not his. It was my bedroom at the end of the upstairs hallway where I would read stories at night. The room off the kitchen was my playroom where I colored on the Sesame Street wallpaper. Between the two large trees in the backyard is where I would lay for hours in the hammock and watch my Dad cut the grass. And those tiny handprints pressed into the concrete near the garage? Mine.

So now what was this boat doing in the driveway? Who had built the fence surrounding the yard? Why didn’t I see my apple tree? This house wasn’t just a home to me, it was from a time before complications.

Many times throughout high school and even college I would have dreams about “going home”, and it was always to the house on Sy Road. Everything about that house is still clear in my mind.

I recently found an email my Dad sent me in 2005 –

Hi Pumpkin,
What's new?
I took Grandma to the Summit Park Mall yesterday so she could try driving for the first time since her knee surgery. We passed by the old house and Grandma said it looked like they were having a garage sale. We decided to stop. Todd and I went in while Grandma stayed in the car.
I was looking around and on the floor were two motorcycle helmets. The guy said they were old and we could have them for a $1.00 each. I said “the white one cost me whole lot more than a dollar when I bought it new at age 16!”
He looked at me and said, "Are you Mark?" Apparently he was the guy that bought the house from us in 1991. I left a lot of stuff at the house when we moved out because I couldn't take everything to Pittsburgh and we didn't get the house on Ruie till another 6 months later.
He gave me the helmet and the other one as well. It was Mom's. Todd took it home for Mom yesterday.
He took us in for a quick tour of the house. Todd said he wished you had been there.
So, 14 years later, I got my only helmet I ever had, its back in the basement as a bar decoration and "antique". After all, it's 34 years old!
Well, almost lunch time.
Just thought I'd pass along that little story.
Type you later.
Love,
Dad

Truth be told, I’m thankful I wasn’t there. If I would have toured the house as it is now, it would no longer be “mine”, the realization of it belonging to someone else would be real.

So here it is, my house, as I remember it.

Setting Up

Quite often I find myself needing to write about the artwork I’m working on. Sometimes the piece will come from an idea that I have written out, other times I’ll write about the piece after it’s completed, or along its way to completion.

Regardless of the order, there is a definite relationship between the two, and like most healthy relationships, they are able to find strength through each other. Usually these ideas don’t manifest into anything more than a word.doc that eventually gets buried, but it is necessary that they at the very least flee my mind.

So, as I thought of how I can post some artwork online, I figured I’d start posting both together, the art and the writing. I don’t consider myself to be a profound writer, nor a renowned artist, but I enjoy it, and really, isn’t that what is most important?