the quiet is one of my favorite things each early morning. the world has not yet awakened, save for the birds. as the sun rose red into the sky today it was as if a silent movie was playing in the sky, strewn with color.
“stillness is the canvas against which movement can become beautiful. we can only appreciate movement against the background of stillness. were everything kinetic, we could not know what movement is. as sound is sistered to silence, movement is sistered to stillness.” (john o’donohue – beauty)
it’s the rests that give meaning to the music – the breathing that makes owning a passage only yours.
it’s the white space that gives design power – balance revealing subject, a viewer’s ability to see.
it’s the negative between the positive – giving definition, directing eyes to move.
it’s the imperfection that accords perfection.
it’s standing still that makes dance dance.
it’s less words that gives impact to more words – wisdom is not measured in the verbose.
it’s dark that gives the stars life – a stage for shimmering pinpricks of light, gigantic close, tiny from afar.
it’s noise that makes the whisper worthy of delicious goosebumps.
it’s the tide going out, coming in that makes the waves, the low-tide sand pushing the wave higher.
it’s absence that reminds us of the potency of presence.
it’s sleep that gives energy to awakeness.
it’s dreams that give shape to reality.
it’s quiet – gentle hushed sunrising birdcall-punctuated quiet – that feeds the wearied cacophony in our minds as we start anew. offered with possibility, with crayons or colored pencils or thick oils to fill in our day, peeking into spaces of nothingness, seeing past what we see, coloring over the lines, entering the negative space, uncluttered and still.