“Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide.”
―Donald Woods Winnicott
I sat down to write about the equinox. Having been traveling in Santa Fe I am a week late. I have had so much I thought I wanted to communicate; about the light at this time of year, the practice of noticing, and friends who have the gift of being present. But then I went down the rabbit hole of looking at damage from hurricane Helene in western North Carolina where many friends live. In addition some local friends are heading down to Florida to rescue a few things from their flooded house before they call a demolition crew. I wanted to communicate―but now I just want to hide.
Today we drove north through the green rolling hills of Virginia along some of my favorite rural roads to a talk about the trees at Oak Springs Farm. I was in the passenger seat as the navigator, Warren was the driver. Just like last week, but last week we moved through the arroyos and mesas of New Mexico, gazing at billions of years of geologic history. I’m told that some arroyos historically were sheep trails which people then walked along. The sandy gravel became a dry watercourse that temporarily and seasonally fills and flows after sufficient rain. Erosion continued to deepen them into the shapes they are today. In New Mexico I was fascinated by the erosion, exposed rocks and sand, and the ever present contrast of roots, rocks, soil, and sky.
This afternoon looking at the images I could find of the flooding rivers in North Carolina my breath is taken away by the force of the water. I am awed by the number of roads that are blocked and closed, the lack of communication available, and yet we have images. I am sick at the damage and loss that so many people face. I know the people of North Carolina are resourceful, but it will be a long road to recovery.
