In July I painted this last painting for my mother. It’s done in oil. I haven’t touched a brush since. It was one of the very last things she had around her until she passed away. Seeing it brings up a whole range of emotions, and sometimes I even think I may never be able to pick up a brush and paint again. But I guess that’s just how the mind works sometimes – it's not always our best mentor.
Because today would have been her birthday, I'd like to share one more of her poems:
Der Traumzeit
frisch entschlüpft
dasitzend
bei einer Tasse Tee
schön langsam
zu mir
kommend
mein Blick
nach innen gekehrt
die Augen
zum Fenster starrend
Schneeflocken treiben
das letzte Blatt
des Baumes
winkt mir zu
bringt mich hin
zum ersten Schritt
des Tages.
~
Freshly emerged
from dreamtime
sitting
over a cup of tea
nice and slow
coming to myself
my gaze
turned inwards
my eyes
staring at the window
snowflakes drifting
the last leaf
on the tree
beckons to me
brings me
to the first step
of the day
Hopefully you can enjoy a calm and pleasant first Advent, lighting a candle and feeling lots of gratitude in your heart.
☙
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