I’m sitting on a gold mine—or a gold mine is sitting in me—or if I speak through a bigger understanding, I myself am a gold mine. I hold/it holds veins of gold-kissed creative energy, ready to be excavated, ready to emerge. The gift of potency, ever-ready potential, the gift of rich moments, rich insights, shared energy, powerful words, the gift of haunting images that hold a feeling--a vibration--that cannot be literally translated, but like light language can be felt and experienced.
Some of these golden gifts that are filling me, outside and inside: the changing, vibrant light, sunsets with blue, gold, orange and pink, sometimes deepening to pulsing red; the shadows, slits of morning sun coming through the blinds, projected on the blue-green wall. The radiant aqua of the wide pool, its winking sparkly surface reflecting the deeper aqua and coral colors of the nearby buildings. Looking up from the water to the birds circling or passing high overhead: hawks, egrets, cranes.
My gold is the creative energy coming forth in so many ways, sprouting out in different directions, tumbling over itself and its varied forms. Taking the camera to zero in on the infinite variety of what I see: jaunty starfruit slices fitting together like dancing cartoon characters, silhouetted tree skeletons against the sky, the surprising color range of seaweed and fish scales, curtains of Spanish moss, a starfish temporarily captured in a net just a few feet out in Lemon Bay, the long beaks and feet of wood storks, mangrove shoots, an old couple walking together down the beach.
The creative energy is always there as I play with my art materials—printed images, papers, bones, shells-- and see them come together in two and three dimensions; it comes as I see the works-in progress spread out around me, each waiting to be completed. I feel joy with the ones that feel finished, but even when the pieces aren’t resolved, they are the gold mine, the veins of gold, ready, waiting to be discovered and fully seen.