The Artist at Work

The Artist at Work
The Artist at Work

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Epiphany! - Ere We Are Aware . . .


The egret warrants attention.
Between the portrait and the pineapple,  the bird is an epiphany.

This weekend (Friday to be exact) was the holiday of Epiphany. Epiphany is the Christian celebration of the incarnation - god made human. The day is used to mark the wisemen's journey, against all odds and caution, in search of a baby born in extreme circumstances, to unwed parents sheltering in a barn at a wayside inn on the edge of nowhere. Many traditions also celebrate the baptism of Jesus - the quintessential true-identity story of a man revealed as the long-awaited hero of people forsaken and forgotten.

Epiphany marks a date of revelation and recognition, and it comes about the time that, here in a temperate climate, noticeably warm this year, I start planning a spring garden. Epiphany has me cleaning out pots and trays, calculating when to start the seeds that, hopefully, will feed us a couple short months from now. At epiphany, even if the world is cold and gloomy, the hope of spring needs preparing for. Nature, even while dormant, calls us to be aware.

Here on the blog for Marcus' book, epiphany begins a season to plant some seeds of the metaphorical variety. The book, Flight of the Mind: A Painter's Journey through Paralysis, which is ripening as we dream through these long nights, will be released in the summer - a balmy dream from today. But as it ripens, we want to explore some of the ideas, feelings and revelations Marcus' story and work brings to our attention.

The wise men on a quest to redeem their souls.
"In God's wildness lies the hope of the world," proclaims the environmentalist and naturalist John Muir, writing a century ago, but leaving clues for our time, when natural wonder is at stake. We can find hope in "the great fresh unblighted, unredeemed wilderness, [where t]he galling harness of civilization drops off, and wounds heal ere we are aware."

Regardless of time, religion, culture or upbringing, the natural world,"God's wildness," is calling us to be aware, for our own healing. Maybe it's the birds we can't help but notice, maybe it's the unseasonable weather, maybe it's the light that wakes us at sunrise or makes us sad at twilight. Something sacred, absolutely incarnate and revelatory needs our attention.

My worktable is littered with gardening books that are calling me back. Marcus' artwork also calls us back, to a world that we've missed, to a revelatory world of miracles, magic and reality, which is an epiphany - when magic and reality collide.

Please tell us about your own epiphanies and check back here for Marcus' and my own reflections on nature, religion, and whatever moves us to pay attention and share with you.

7 comments:

  1. Love it! As Gil Scot Heron wrote, "the revolution will not be televised," but I'm glad "the revelation" will be blogged and found in Marcus' book.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wonderful! Thank you, Stan. Though we might not want so much credit, we'll keep working to reveal the sacred as we encounter it in this world. You are no stranger to that good work! ;')

      Delete
  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Egrets themselves are epiphanies. The species' amazing recovery from the brink of extinction, its cause being the inception of the Audubon Society - not John James, but the women who traveled the country speaking on the ills of plumed hats. Love that painting. Thanks for sharing your beautiful writing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes egrets are epiphanies! Thank you, Lacy. And thanks for the history. I often still mourn the passenger pigeon, though I was never alive to see one. You might like the book *Life of the Skies* by Jonathan Rosen, if you haven't come across it.

      Delete
    2. I will look for that! Have you read "The Silent Sky" by Allan Eckert? That was my introduction to the story of the passenger pigeon. It broke my heart, and has stayed with me ever since.

      Delete