Gatherers

We are gatherers,

the ones who pick up sticks and stones

and old wasp’s nests fallen by the

door of the barn,

walnuts with holes that look like

eyes of owls,

bits of shells not whole but lovely

in their brokeness,

we are the ones who bring home

empty eggs of birds

and place them on a small glass shelf

to keep for what? How long?

It matters not. What matters

Is the gathering,

the pockets filled with remnants

of a day evaporated, the traces of

certain memory, a lingering smell,

a smile that came with the shell.

~ Nina Bagley

Over at a Blog Down Under

I am guest writer over at Local Story Space, a wonderful Australian blog featuring creative women. I decided to write on the subject of what Beauty means to me, why it is so important to me and how it inspires what I make.
You can read the post by clicking the link over here >>>

Favourite Things

Blue Seedpod

Lessons
Living Blue

Uncertainty

And when you go long enough being uncertain of who you really are, what results is a form of subtle, long-term meditation — a persistent and necessary acceptance of whatever is arising, because you don’t actually know if it was the food that made you sick, and you don’t actually know if you like Eastern European cultures anymore, and you don’t really know how you feel about income inequality anymore, and you don’t know if your career path is the best for you or not, and you don’t really know if you miss your friends back home or if you just like the idea of missing your friends back home.

And at some point, you just stop asking questions. And start listening. To the waves and the wind and the calls for love in all of the beautiful languages you will never understand.

You just let it be. And keep moving.

~ Mark Manson. 5 Lessons from Travelling

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On the last day of the world, I would plant a tree.

 ~ W.S. Merwin

                                           

Yearning          

When I am Back at my Desk

I can breathe easily once more

A Morning Walk in Summer

Lalbagh is at its best in summer so I am glad that someone managed to coax me one morning into a walk there. He wanted to 'tag' trees, whatever that means and had his nose buried earnestly in his phone most of the time presumably doing his tagging while I tried out my camera. Pardon this picture heavy post, but can you blame me?

I returned with this booty. Alladin's cave could not have offered me more pleasure.

I photographed the shape and texture of the seedpods

and started the beginnings of a sketch that I never completed. There is something else that I want to happen in my drawing. It is like looking for a path and not finding a way. Sometimes the best solution for that is keeping the sketchbook closed. Better drawings are known to happen after a pause.

Strathmore Express!

Some weeks ago, I received the nicest gift ever from a former Art College classmate, a Strathmore drawing pad which I have long wanted and which is difficult to get here. The feel of charcoal and pastel on this paper takes you straight to heaven. I just cannot stop drawing in it and I am racing through the pages like there is no tomorrow. Oh happy days! :)

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The Remains