Guest House Mist
There are a few poems that I have returned to again and again in my life, and with each season of re-visiting they seem to have grown new lines that I never noticed before. I’ll find myself again scribbling my favorites on scraps of paper and taping them to the fridge, my bathroom mirror… anywhere I might see them and remember to remember them. This collection of poem-inspired paintings holds visual versions of my little post-it notes: a way to see and integrate poetic wisdom into our spaces and lives.
12x12”
Oil and acrylic on gallery wrapped stretched raw linen canvas with 2.5” deep walnut wood float frame, handmade by a local Bend, Oregon woodworker
There are a few poems that I have returned to again and again in my life, and with each season of re-visiting they seem to have grown new lines that I never noticed before. I’ll find myself again scribbling my favorites on scraps of paper and taping them to the fridge, my bathroom mirror… anywhere I might see them and remember to remember them. This collection of poem-inspired paintings holds visual versions of my little post-it notes: a way to see and integrate poetic wisdom into our spaces and lives.
12x12”
Oil and acrylic on gallery wrapped stretched raw linen canvas with 2.5” deep walnut wood float frame, handmade by a local Bend, Oregon woodworker
There are a few poems that I have returned to again and again in my life, and with each season of re-visiting they seem to have grown new lines that I never noticed before. I’ll find myself again scribbling my favorites on scraps of paper and taping them to the fridge, my bathroom mirror… anywhere I might see them and remember to remember them. This collection of poem-inspired paintings holds visual versions of my little post-it notes: a way to see and integrate poetic wisdom into our spaces and lives.
12x12”
Oil and acrylic on gallery wrapped stretched raw linen canvas with 2.5” deep walnut wood float frame, handmade by a local Bend, Oregon woodworker
Guest House
By Jalaluddin Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.