I looked more closely at the print on the wall of my housesit that’s been calling to me all week…it’s called “Migration” by Marianne Wieland, and reveals an ocean view through a ship’s portal. A closer viewing revealed whales embossed in white around the circular window. It love it, the way I love an airplane window’s tight framing of an expanse of sky:
I imagine a whale’s migration–slow and unhurried, with lots of breaks for plankton snacks and naps in quiet coves along the way. If the whole world is in a state of flux, why do I long for permanence? The shifting of the earth’s tectonic plates under our feet, the movements of clouds, stars, the fall colors spreading like a rash over the leaves…And can I begin to see this movement as a sign of life, a creative act more spectacular than any dance, symphony, or film? Yes, I can–some of the time–but for right now, I’m ready for smaller, more gradual changes, barely perceptible ones like the quivering of an eye beneath closed eyelid, or a slow motion kiss.
My bags lie packed on the living room floor in preparation for loading into the car. I’m moving into a new apartment today, but plan to start the day with an hour of knitting at the bench. Before the computer gets packed, here’s a new post for you.