Where to begin... We have lived in Missoula at the Wilma for almost a month. Daily characters arrive in this building and outside this building at Caras Park. The story of how we arrived will follow this one tonight.
I think of these unusual characters who enter my lexicon quite often. My drawing tablet is carried and I create quick sketches, discretion applied of course. Trying to capture the feeling, the subtle nuance of the moment... and answering the question "Why this person?"
The Hula Hoop Lady, who I shall name Iris, entered my life several times as I walked my pooch Enya. I'm quite positive Enya has been fascinated with Iris as well. Iris is bold with her hula hoops, she loves clothing on the scant side and (absolutely love this) is quite proud of her body and abilities! So yes, I've been fascinated and charmed by her.
Yesterday afternoon though, something or someone had broken her heart... I can only hope it was a temporary break. Her outfit was fit for a queen with sparkles and flowing soft chiffon. Her face was smudged with eyeliner and her cheeks were beyond rosy with the rubbing of her hands. Her hula hoops laid quiet at her feet. I felt that I should look away but my heart wanted to help.
This morning I awoke to the drawing above and I thought about what life hands us.
Our morning meditation is always greeted with this website by Garrison Keillor:
The poem this morning fit perfect.
by Rita Dove
Imagine you wake up
with a second chance: The blue jay
hawks his pretty wares
and the oak still stands, spreading
glorious shade. If you don’t look back,
the future never happens.
How good to rise in sunlight,
in the prodigal smell of biscuits –
eggs and sausage on the grill.
The whole sky is yours
to write on, blown open
to a blank page. Come on,
shake a leg! You’ll never know
who’s down there, frying those eggs,
if you don’t get up and see.
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