Getting my Hands Dirty

 I had a burial in the woods today... a time of letting go of a set of small things that were such a part of me, so meaningful, that by doing so it was as if I was placing a piece of myself into the soil. This form of expression, now quietly at rest and starting on it's journey in the process of being captured in the ground is where it now belongs, for I know they were never something that was mine in the beginning, nor something now to keep or hold on to...but only meant as a vehicle of expression to be shared and loved beyond my own heart and hands. 

Creativity, , certainly mine, whether it be expressed in photography, or woodworking, or words, or with love, has worth really only when it gets its roots from the heart and is given away for another's benefit. Every fascinating image, every hand hewn project, every thoughtfully engaging encouragement or honest "I love you" has the same origin... and if it is sincere and true, is born from within deep in the soul. When it is done... mute, rejected, there is no longer any purpose for it and it needs to be disposed of. I guess not many people would take the steps that I would to do so... to get their hands dirty... but it is a fitting and symbolic way for me to place it aside. When we as humans each find the end of our biological line, in one form or another, we return to dust... scripture promises us that. Simple objects of wood, words on paper, many things... even our very hearts are no different and will meet the same end ultimately whether they are burned, or melted away, or as in this case, placed into the ground.

When a form of creativity is shut down, refused and returned, it is no less real of a loss as a piece of your heart itself, something to hold, something... that is gone and deserves only to be put 'back into the earth' from which it came. I did just that today. It was hard and sad and very painful to think that I had reached this place, come to such a task, but it was something that needed to be done and my soul could not do otherwise.  I kept a small part of one to keep with me, to fashion it into something else that I can occasionally wear, a reminder of that part of me... a part that has been purposefully set aside, a part which made me complete in so many ways. Perhaps someday, it will have the opportunity to live again, have a place in my world, but it is unlikely.

As time and the earth and environment takes it toll on these things, so too will it take it's toll on the parts of me I left there. It will be unavoidable... it already has. Perhaps someday, long into the future, someone will find them, be puzzled and maybe find inspiration in their own creative way, maybe not, but either way they will return to the earth...the soil...from which they came. Quietly mute.

Above, a stylized portrait and below a straight shot of my favorite shovel, if one is allowed to play favorites with such a simple instrument.