The Paths we Take

A trail beckons in Auckland, New Zealand.

When my friend, Suzette, began to talk about the theme for her second juried art exhibit, "The Paths We Take," I began to see PATHS everywhere-- paths I followed, ignored, imagined--beloved paths, scary paths, yet-to-find paths--all there, waiting for me.

This month we also celebrated the path that brought us to Colorado FIVE YEARS AGO!!

What a journey it has been!  In addition to a new address, this chapter of our lives has provided additional marvelous friends, unexpected career pursuits, and grateful appreciation for the gift of time with family, loved ones and a special dog named Molly.  We are well aware of the PATHS and directions that now call our names.

Highway 34 twists and rises in elevation through Big Thompson Canyon heading toward Estes Park.

What leads us one way and not another? Did we stay too long on one course and not long enough on another?  Should we have gone left but turned right? Did we stop mid-way and let the path fizzle away?  Or, was the exploration so grand that we couldn't wait to see what was around the next corner?

With camera in hand and poem fragments dancing in my head (there is also a juried poetry section in this art exhibit) I began my exploration into The Paths We Take.
 

For the exhibit, I submitted two large photographic images and one mixed media work.  I also submitted three poems.  Of the over 200 entries submitted, 100 pieces were selected, mine included.  

The exhibit opened June 17 with an enthusiastic reception and will continue through July 16 at the Windsor Art and Heritage Center, 116 N. 5th St., in Windsor, CO.

"Boardwalk to Somewhere," mixed media entry into "The Paths We Take"

BOARDWALK TO SOMEWHERE

I walk the Boardwalk to Somewhere, 

leaving what's behind,

onward straight ahead

confident, secure, that this strong bridge

over fine white sand

will support my destinations and desires.

I walk the Boardwalk to Somewhere,

stretching over dunes,

treading carefully on those many names

beneath my feet

who now enable me

to walk forward, without sinking, over shifting sand.

"Drifting Over Melbourne," photographic entry into "The Paths We Take"



IN SEARCH OF STARS

I have often marveled at those serious straight-line people,
those shooting-star-direct-course-people
who, at age 5, announce,
"I will someday be an astronomer!"
and without delay, without curve or bend or wave
they hold that hand and beat three-of-a-kind.
Without ice, water or seltzer.
The shortest line between two points,
they logically head for the stars.
I, too, am star-bound--
in a Bubble-and-Drop-Nonlinear-Dynamic-kinda-way.
Light, effervescent, I bubble along
groundless, impractical, somehow rising to the surface
despite unwarranted economic fundamentals.
I flow with irrepressible enthusiasm as I look up
into my chaotic cosmos.



ROUTE-LESS

I meant to stay in Wyoming
but left for Indiana.
That didn't quite fit and I hurried back to Wyoming
only to leave for Ohio,
which was fine except
I was soon packing for Illinois.
It was temporary and I was ready to move to Michigan
only it turned out to be North Dakota.
Then I made plans to live in Colorado
only to return to Ohio,
oddly not far from where I was before.
That fit nicely for several years
and I began eyeing North Carolina
only to head west to Colorado...
maybe not forever
but at least for now.

"End of Journey," a photographic entry based on "War Nurse," a larger-than-life
realistic sculpture in an exhibit, "Gallipoli: The scale of our war," depicting New
Zealanders in the World War I campaign, in Te Papa, the Museum of New Zealand in
Wellington.  While serving as a nurse in Gallipoli, she reads this letter that was lost for several months,
confirming her brother's death, a soldier in Gallipoli.