Three days ago I had the magnificent urge to write something beautiful. Something beautiful about the sunflowers blooming in my precious little corn patch. But once again the balance has been tipped. The pain and suffering of the world comes a calling and settles in for a spell. Way too close to home, it clutches me by the heart and dares me not to look away.
My dear Vincent, I have always wondered, “why the sun flowers?” But just three days ago when I laid eyes on the first sturdy stock, taller than myself, covered at last joyously with a dozen diminutive blossoms (as diminutive as sun flowers go!) Beaming delight…I got it, I got you, Dear Vincent. You and your suffering. You and your search. Your struggle and search always for God.
The sunflower reaching up to Father Sun, reflecting his golden, divine light: the herald of a bright new day.
Allah is capable of all things. Allah is great and good. We ride this tipping balance daily, like surfers riding waves.
Balance is not stillness. Balance is motion. Check, recheck…check, adjust…Check, position…check, reposition…We move through this world feeling sometimes like surfers on a forty foot wave. Eyes wide open in suspense of what the future will bring!
You Dear Vincent are the epitome of this struggle. Again and again you transform your pain and suffering into divine uncommon beauty. Always you remain, Patron Saint of the artist, Patron Saint of the self-healer.
The sublime beauty of your irises, there at the Getty Center in LA… beauty blooming in all its glory and grace from the dark humus of human suffering. I imagine you bearing your easel like Jesus bore his cross. All the way to the end.
P.S. The Solstice corn harvest is a great success!