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The Journey

The Journey

The Journey

Although we can't be together physically, I have found that an amazing connection takes place in small zoom gatherings, and I'm optimistic that these workshops will help you develop skill and community in your watercolor nature journaling practice. Here is a list of I will present material similar to my in-person workshops through the use of an auxiliary camera that will allow me to give live demonstrations of techniques. Downloadable handouts will We will also share our pages throughout which is a great way to learn from each other and create a sense of community.

Kits: I do still require that you use my kit since so much of the workshop depends on the use of its contents. If you don't already have MY kit, you will need to purchase one on the Kits page. Once you purchase the kit, which will arrive within 3 days or so, you'll be given a link to a video of how to do the color exercises. It will be necessary for you to complete the exercises in the video before the start of class. *For those who already have a kit, contact me and I will send you the link to refresh your memory and skills.

Back to Poetry

The Journey

by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voice behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life that you could save.

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Sleeping in The Forest

by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.

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