John Dewey on Art

Art is not the possession of the few who are recognized writers, painters, musicians; it is the authentic expression of any and all individuality. Those who have the gift of creative expression in unusually large measure disclose the meaning of the individuality of others to those others. In participating in the work of art, they become artists in their activity. They learn to know and honor individuality in whatever form it appears. The fountains of creative activity are discovered and released. The free individuality which is the source of art is also the final source of creative development in time.
—John Dewey

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I agree with John…

“I believe in God, but not as one thing, not as an old man in the sky. I believe that what people call God is something in all of us. I believe that what Jesus and Mohammed and Buddha and all the rest said was right. It’s just that the translations have gone wrong.” – John Lennon

Miracles Do Happen…

She has two wounds on her flank, but she’s alive and hopping.

Somehow. Someway. She escaped.

We’ve renamed her Lucky.

And she is not venturing far from the bushes where her and her Mama nest.

Even little Shadow, who loves to chase bunnies, lay smiling on the back deck quietly watching them.

🙂

The Circle of Life: Beautiful & Brutal

I lost Baby Bunny to one of the large hawks that frequent our area. Cottontail rabbits have lived in our yard for five years now. The matriarch Bun-Bun appears with one or two kits at the beginning of every summer. Last year it we had Teacup & Saucer – this year Baby Bunny.

Standing at the stove watching her happily nibbling clover and dandelions; home fries I was preparing for dinner needed a stir. When I looked up again the ferociously beautiful bird was sitting on her wings spread wide. I was out the back door in a second. The victor ascended with her prize.

Our Pomeranian Shadow saw me sitting with tears in my eyes. She brought me one of her toys – a little elephant – I love elephants. The look of love in her eyes.

Logical me says, “This is the way Frances. Accept and release.”

Emotional me screams “Nooooo!”

Baby Bunny’s last moments were happy ones. Hopefully she never saw it coming. Just the taste of sweet clover and dandelions and the warm sun on her fur.