Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Wednesday Wish (35)

The market hummed with activity that morning. A lone piece of gravel crunched under my foot but I didn’t notice. My senses were too busy with the scent of sugar-fried dough, the pleas of vendors, the vats of boiling grease, the kind warmth of my beloved Mexican sun. I bought a small bag of strawberries and let their juices melt into my tongue, my naughty smile bringing curious stares. Shoulders bumped me. Voices sang out deals. Sweat beaded up in the small of my back and the strawberries kept me centered. In the juice of my hungry spirit.

I wandered past the plant lady, the silver man, the baskets, the glassware, the jewelry and the pottery. I touched some wooden bowls, some leather belts, a wreath made of corn husks, and a few purses made of oil cloth. My sandaled feet were content, or so I thought. And yet I never stopped walking for very long—tasting another strawberry here, admiring a new craft there, wandering somewhere I hadn’t yet known.

His paintings were hidden. They weren’t on the main path. I looked over at a table of trinkets and when I looked up to smile at the vendor, a wash of color over his shoulder caught my eye. I propped my sunglasses atop my head, swallowed my last bit of strawberry and looked again. And like a magnet, found my way…closer, closer, closer still…

‘Hallo’, he said with foreign sweetness.
‘Hello’, I returned, my eyes sparkling.
He watched as I stared. I tried not to, really I did, but I couldn’t stop. The colors, they danced. The shapes, they sang. And the feelings that suddenly awakened in me…wow...who was the painter? I needed to know. I looked up and into his eyes, the secret of every man’s soul.
‘You?’
He smiled.
I offered him a strawberry.

He told me of the little green men who lived under his house. Of the places they took him when he dreamed. He told me of the blues in the lakes and the forests, of the deep purples in hidden hearts, of the yellows and the oranges and the reds and the turquoises, his paint splotched fingers talking in the air, his eyebrows arching and bending like frantic fuzzy worms. He showed me what the paintings said, where their songs belonged and why all the other people that day walked by, every one, unable to see. My heart raced. My fingers tingled. And I think the eyes of my heart, they must’ve grown.

‘That one. You must take it home. It belongs to you.’ He was so sure, I almost felt naked, revealed. How did he know?
I gave him a nervous laugh. ‘I wish I could. Maybe one day. It’s beautiful.’ An original painting? Me? I spent my weekly budget on my bag of strawberries. (Ok, practically.) There was no way I could afford his work. No way.
‘You see it. It sees you. It belongs to you.’
I gave him a double take. My skin itched. I looked over at the painting again. ‘I don’t have enough.’
‘Yes you do.’ His voice was calm, kind.
‘Look,’ I opened my wallet. ‘I have 500 pesos (less than $50) and I need at least 100 for gas to get home. That’s not enough.’
But he didn’t hesitate, he just reached down, picked up the painting and handed it me. ‘400 pesos, then. I told you, it belongs to you’ 


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What do you want to walk toward? And why then, do you walk away? What would happen if you lost yourSelf in the sweetness of the strawberry and went for it, let your itchings show you the way? Might magic happen? I dare you. I dare you to try it, to let yourSelf see....


11 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. sweet Kelly...precious friend....I am so happy you're letting it free...you're making space for even more, angel...your soul is stretching its wings...

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  2. I had the privilege of seeing this piece of art in person - not just in a photo. It's more powerful than you can imagine. Strange?Absolutely! Yet hard to take your eyes off it... And now I'm walking, I'm walking...

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    1. You did see it, Michael!:) I'm happy to know it affected you, too, my friend. Thanks for sharing! I hope your walk is taking you to all the most magical, spirit-soaring places!:)

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  3. I like what you've done with your blog Brynne! It makes me happy to see that your beauty is not only superficial. I met you and your lovely daughter once before at the Mount Vernon food co-op, and if I remember correctly, you asked me if you would be able to sprout seeds (for eating) without much problem in Mexico. That led me to ask you about your situation and we spoke for a short time about it. You were so kind and honest that I'll admit, you left quite an impression on me. You gave me your card and insisted that I check out your blog and even participate if I'd like..."no pressure though", you said with an apparently conjured serious tone. It seemed to me that it was almost uncomfortable for you to contort that soft, smiling face of yours into one of seriousness for the brief moment that it took.
    Well, it's been many moons since then and honestly I didn't plan on writing anything here (I don't particularly like to be involved in internet social networking) but your card turned up at a time when I had a little inspiration-so here I am!
    What I'm really saying here is keep doing your thing! The peace and joy you've embraced will inspire others and boy is inspiration needed these days. And for those who are reading and haven't personally met Brynne I want to testify to her brightness. She posses an innocence not unlike a child. It reminds me of the power that small children have to bring even the most hardened of us to bear a smile with little more than a laugh from themselves.
    Good night to you and that lovely daughter of yours and to her father as well.

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    1. I remember your playful eyes, your elegant fingers, your hopeful spirit, and most of all, your heart. It was open wide and beautiful. Dear soul...your words warm my own heart today. Thank you. I remember you so well.

      We are preparing to head north again soon and I have had to make a few calls to the States to line up logistics for our stay. Your words...today...couldnt have come at a better time. You see...not once but twice this past week I have had people tell me they almost hung up on me because they thought I was scamming them. They both apologized when they discovered my kindness was authentic, just said they werent used to anyone being so nice. Its left me with a hiccup inside, wondering when kindness from one's heart stopped being the norm. Do I have enough to go around if its more unusual these days? Will I find hearts as open as mine? Am I ready for this?

      So you see...your kind words, your open heart, soothed me in a way I needed today, my friend. Knowing you are there, a place where I will soon be, gives me comfort and gives me joy. And reminds me that I am not alone. Your open heart warms mine. See you soon, my friend:) And thank you.

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  4. What a great post! You made me relive my first visit to the NY MOMA, when I gazed upon a Van Gough that was on loan.

    I have always wanted to see that painting in person. I thought it unlikely that I ever would. One day, I walked in to the museum and there it was. I stared at it dumbfounded, then with awe and for more than an hour I stood, entranced.

    I didn't see anything else in the MOMA that day, I returned the following week to see more.

    Thanks, what a wonderful memory!
    --Mike Adams
    http://reasonable-thought.blogspot.com/

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    1. LOVE your story, Mike! Which painting was it?! Do tell!! And I'm soo happy my post reminded you of your time there with it!:) What a special day to revisit and to share with us! Thank you!!

      Loved your blog, too...touched by your most recent post, especially. Thank you for reaching out and for connecting. You give me smiles:)

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  5. I love art in all its forms, written, songs, hand crafted or painted. Being a very visual person, art like this draws me in and sens me down wonderful paths. Thanks for bringing it home, I know you are both grateful for it. :-)

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    1. And I am soO happy that I could take my dear pirate John down a new path today:) I've missed you...thanks for coming back for a visit, my friend! Oh, and...do you paint? I've always thought your words have pictures hidden behind them...

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  6. My mind (and dreams, and thoughts, and...) sees in pictures. I haven't tried painting, but I do like to create with my hands. I've puttered around with clay, gourds, pine needles, I'll send you a few pics of things I've created.

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