Gifts

I love this image. Paintings of it won't start showing up right away though- I'm out of light magenta printer ink.

Ramblings...

If I write to tell you about something beautiful what do I hope for you to get out of it?

When I lived in Bowling Green, OH I saw the aurora borealis shimmering over Lake Erie in November, or was it December? I saw a bridge get hit by lightening, a blue flash grew huge from nothing and then disappeared. A hawk chased, captured and killed a blue jay under the tree in my backyard. It felt like witnessing a murder. The blue jay's parter screaming and attacking the hawk. The dying bird screeching until it went silent. I saw a coyote and various other events that felt to me like signs whose meaning I wasn't equipped to understand.

I told my brother one day that I'd seen signs but didn't understand what they meant.
He said they meant I lived in the country.

I was deflated wanting, really, to believe in the signs. To imagine that one day I would understand a secret language of the universe, or something.

The last time I went to the reservation Francis said these things were gifts.