The Space Between

“Basking”. Lucy Clark/2022

The Space Between

The space between leaving and what is yet to come. The space of becoming, acknowledgement, and knowingness. The space between the inhale where anything can happen and just before the exhale where life is complete.

All of this invites a big, deep, undulating pause.  It’s not so much about the leaving and the arriving as it is about the space between.  The place we can get caught in fear and trepidation, uncertainty and anxiety or deep bull shitting denial.  A place that speaks like no other of the void.  A space that yearns for growth but may be too full of fear to reach for it.  A niche of enlightenment with darkness at the edges.  

I just returned from 5 days in one of my most sacred spaces in this Universe called Santa Fe.  I, at this very moment, am inhabiting the very surreal, ungrounded slightly askew space between.  In years past, I would be concerned for my future.  The trip, so incredibly enchanting and delightful, has stirred up my longing for what’s next.  What will I create, where will I go with it, how I can be more “me” in the process?  All those things that used to scare the light out of me and now, without me even being aware of it has softened into a comfort of unknowing.  

I have ridden this horse enough to know that all will be revealed in its own languid time.  Without force or effort.  Without worry or stress.  I have realized that what is leaving is leaving and what is to come will find its way to my door.  People, places, things, and time have always been and will always be as temporary as a firefly on a warm summer’s night.  

I bow to the space between the word and the world.  The place where magic can happen with a flick of fate and where, in the end, we will always find our way home.

Field of Rest

“Field of Rest” Lucy Clark 2021

Field of Rest

A moment of utter silence

With reverence along side

To bring us to the moment

This moment of our lives.

To reflect upon our harvest

And those that came before

To realize our accomplishments

Before opening another door.

The depth of this moment

More precious than the last

To bow in acknowledgement

To every storied past.

Each breath like a prayer

Each sigh a whispered psalm

That what we had put forth

Is with clarity and with calm.

Another bountiful crop tilled under

After having done our best

That we made it to the land

The land and season of rest.

Lucy Clark, 2021

A Night of Lights

A Night of Lights

With the whole world breathing,

Community

Compassion and

Hope

A Season of Color

With community leaning into

Celebration

Kindness and

Generosity

A time of celebration

With others joining in

Gratitude 

Friendship and

Light 

A heart full of gratitude

With a space full of

Presence

Joy and

Reverence 

The moment has arrived

It is time

To celebrate 

To release 

To expand

And be well ❤️

LITTLE TREASURES

FALL FLUIDITY; Lucy Clark 2021

Little Treasures
 
There is nothing like
Finding joy 
In one solitary leaf
Of a fall sky
 
Each tree shedding her coat
Laying bare
Her deepest foundation
Beneath the glory of fading treasures
 
Moving through time
Leaf by precious leaf
Revealing each glorious bit
That call us to attend
 
Just one deep breath
One reverent moment
This wispy crisp of a day
 
Realizing everything we have
Everything we are
All that we will be
Are quite simply
 
Tiny treasures.

The Knock at the Door

The Knock at the Door: Lucy Clark 2021

To have Joy 

And invite her in.

To feel Sorrow,

And do the same.

Happiness

Anger, grief and apathy

All deserve a place, too.

To invite each one in

When it knocks at your door

Offering them a seat at the table

And a cup of hot tea

To expand our table so vast

That it holds All that we are

And all that we can be

Without morphing Blessings into Worry

Is the exact moment we can find solace

That accepting ourselves

Is our only salvation

And exactly what we have been waiting for.

CCC Camp Calling

Sunset @ CCC Camp; Lucy Clark 2020

CCC Camp Calling

Of steeples and churches and buildings made of steel
None can compare to the eroded doorway 
Staring into the bliss 
Of the arid unknown.

Quietly tucked into the land 
Known for commitment and second chances
Through chaos and longing, 
I come back again and again.

To the quiet place within
A doorway built for shelter
From a camp made for work
Tethered among cobblestones of hope.

Tell me the sunset isn’t spectacular
Illuminating the future
And I’ll tell you to gaze
Until it quiets your interior.

And whispers, ever so softly
With heart shorn wide open,
The kindness put aside
Replaced by fear, worry and disaster

Everything is temporary
Everything is but a wish
Everything will be fine
If only given time.

Photo/Writing Lucy Clark 2021

When the Mirror Falls Away

A Single Bud; Lucy Clark

When The Mirror Falls Away

Our hand losing its fierce grip

Begging a different version of ourselves

That we reflect outward to the skies

But internally find deep dis-ease.

The mirror that tells us to be somebody else

Anybody else

Because who we are now

Lacks the shine of a story

We can never own.

What will we do with the empty hand of our own judgment?

Will we pick up the fractured glass and pray we can piece it together?

Or will we simply stretch our tendons,

Knowing that the time has come

To shine as ourselves.

Without reflection

Without Distortion

Without Blame

Alone, knowing

We are ready to face

Unencumbered

Forward.

Losing Track of Letting Go

QUIETUDE; Lucy Clark 2018

It can happen with a nod of time lost;

Of details in abundance;

Of mind work replacing soul work.

And one day, you look around and just know,

Without a shadow of gray in the early morning light,

That, YOU are lost.

Lost to your own voice

To the din of the “to do” list

To your souls yearning,

And your hearts Desire

But, there is always this moment

A moment of recognition

Of reflection

Of renewed committment

To YOUR Life seed

Sprouting from the soil

That you placed there

When you were Aware.

And then there is Now.

The Germination of All Things

“IN THE BEGINNING” Lucy Clark 2021

While walking within the mist of a mountain morning, I saw this beauty. I know, I know, it isn’t much. It’s just a cracked seed fallen from the mother tree above. But the gift it gave me is priceless.

I have been struggling with the absence of my creative work. With the success and expansion of the gallery has come reduced time to be in my studio. It has laid heavy on my heart and on my shoulders. A feeling of missing an old friend where the dance of our time together had become comfortable. Expected. Routine.

This little gem of a seed gave to me the realization and reminder that all things, even preciously adored things, have a chapter. And those chapters can either repeat in the future or they have an ending. The emotion we put on those chapters that have come before are of our very own choosing. No one else’s.

And, it is so, once again, in my evolution as an artist. Even though I may not be creating as prolifically as I once have in the physical form, I am still, very much a creator and purveyor of beauty. It has just taken on a new expanded perspective.

And, just as the seed needs to crack itself open with water, light and shadows, so must we. To see that what is before us may not be what has come before. But, it could never the less, be beautiful indeed.

Lucy

Photo/Writing Lucy Clark 2021

The Muse and the Moment

I remember reading an interview by Mary Oliver who was talking about her writing Muse. She would be out walking in the woods and the Muse would suddenly strike; the words were floating in her head so quickly that she would have to run back as fast as she could and put them to paper before they flew out into the ethers and be lost forever. The story struck me when I read it because I had experienced the same thing from time to time. I would wonder, having missed chances to pay physical witness to the thoughts escaping my stream of consciousness that those precious baubles were lost forever. And, sometimes, they were. And sometimes, they would come back around because I was the one chosen to deliver that particular message, on that particular speck of time dust in this ever turning world we call our own. It is in the spirit of returning that I offer this.

If breaths make up moments and days make up weeks which eventually are all packaged up into a life, what gift have we made? What gift for ourselves, for our humanity, for our people? Have we left them with a gift of untold care and blessings? Or, have we played the game of “living” so well that people look upon us and mention the phrases, “Bless her heart”, “that’s so sad” or “she could have been something”?

As I sit here at 5:45 am on a chilly late May morning, woken by my Muse who I haven’t recognized in nearly a month, I am struck by this moment, among other seemingly mundane moments. A moment of the mountainscape revealing herself once again; of the seemingly endless bird sounds creating the soundtrack of their morning rapture and of my mind, words and heart coming together in a brief moment of recognition of the present moment. The “now” and the “before” and of futures not needing attention or worry. Just the breath and sounds and state of my heart. Just the warm mug of coffee and the cold glass table top beckoning my senses to step into another day filled with all things just as mundane, and yet, just as temporary, undulating and precious as a rain drop on parched earth.

If you are in a place of pain, I encourage you to turn and stare at it down “between” the eyes. Taking your “unseeing” physical eye and see it for what it is. Temporary. If you are confusion, take a deep cleansing breath and feel the movement produced by a sure, unconscious pattern that your body makes when it inhales and then lets it all go. If you are in a place of love and reverence, BE with it. Roll in it. Get dirty, muddy and blissful with it, allowing every ounce of it to make its mark on your skin.

Sitting with pain can be the easy part. It can be as natural and normal as first light. But, my friends, it is in the luscious, abundant good times that we can question our worthiness to the moment. Stop it. Don’t do it. Let it wash over you like a lover’s touch that has long been absent. Like the soft, caressed breeze of a new morning sky. Like the last gasp of your heart yearning for safety. For if we don’t acknowledge and wrap our arms around the beauty that Life HAS offered, why would it have any interest in returning to us once again?

If we are unwilling to acknowledge and bow to the unbidden gifts from our lives, we will be unable to encourage more of them. We will be numb to lightness and always look for the dark to return. Honestly, almost willing it to so that we can sit in our self righteous stupor and ask for more of the same.

Feel the enraptured spirit of Joy unbound, if only for the briefest of time. Now, after you have, think about this. What if we could transfer that moment into a day? What if we could recognize the light just a touch more than the dark? What if we finally decided to receive the gifts that we have longed for as long as we have been alive? Imagine what that would bring to the door. Recognition, acknowledgement, reverence, love and limitless light. And though we know it’s temporary, I can assure you it will return.