Stardust dreams--Two days 'til Christmas

"Stardust Dreams," 5 x 7 watercolor Christmas card 

"This world is not my home, I'm just a passing through..."

                          --Old Gospel Song

Stardust...home for eternity, lest we forget two days to Christmas what it was all about.

Physically, in present tense, our earthly bodies are indeed composed of the chemistry of the stars. But they're  not home.

Though the eons, earthbound,  time-bound and death-bound humans have tried to  seek safe homes in a troubled and world--witness stone-age caves, castles, walled cities  or today's "gated" communities.  But they have apparently  also gazed at the stars seeking  (worshiping)  lasting homes, hoping for security and timeless life beyond. 

Is not the real Christmas not a celebration of that seeking, of that hope, of that belief, that promise, in eternity as home, that there is more to life than this physical world and physical bodies?

Those are the stardust dreams, two days 'til Christmas.

Home...eight days 'til Christmas

"Sanctuary," 5 x 7 watercolor Christmas card

"I'll be home for Christmas...if only in my dreams." 

That 1943 song recorded by Bing Crosby, written by lyricist Kim Gannon and composer Walter Kent, captured the emotion and hopes of all those American servicemen in the anger and violence of remote WWII, so far away from the warmth and safety of loved ones.

It still does for so many people, perhaps even more, scattered  around the world though the years, or threatened by danger and violence of war and homelessness.

Last week on a cold day, I saw a homeless person huddled in a sleeping bag at the corner of Penn and Memorial. Near downtown recently, we saw a homeless camp of tents not far from the sparkling lights of OKC's "Renaissance." In Ukrainians, their homes are being bombed. I wonder what their Christmas dreams are like, what kind of "Holy-day" they are having.

For me, with my children and grandchildren so far away, at least I can see and talk to them through modern technology, and enjoy the love of in-laws. Long ago, returning from a Culp cousin reunion in East Texas, I wrote a poem of my thoughts during this season that  includes these lines:

 "Driving in East Texas is like going back into the womb.

It's warm, and wet, and ... green.

Where families are born, and grow, and spread out like runners 

from the ivy growing up the trunks of the hardwoods, 

across miles and years."

So as we approach Christmas eight days from now, with our "decorations so bright," let us savor the sanctuary of "home," and be thankful and enjoy every second and loved ones, remembering those who can't. 

This card captures those emotions for me, the warmth and joy of adobe, red chilis and a Christmas wreath on a white Christmas.

Remember Home?

"Homestead Memories," 12 x 12 acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas

Where did you grow up? Was there an old family home? 

I was thinking of that this past week as more than a half-million freedom-loving people were being driven from their homes in Ukraine. Their flight for survival means leaving possessions and memories behind as a Russian tyrant invades and commits war crimes. Real patriots are fighting  and dying for real freedom there.

Meanwhile, in America, spoiled, selfish and shallow so-called patriots, in convoys and on street corners and in public meetings are protesting vaccination and mask mandates as violating their cherished inconsequential "freedoms."  It would be laughable if it weren't so stupid and tragic. That tells you all you need to know about what's wrong with America these past very few years. 

This anger has been brewing inside me for longer than the Russian invasion, but the character and courage of the Ukrainian people contrasts so strongly with these people who are wrecking America. They're causing a ruckus over masks and then go home to their air-conditioned  homes. Pathetic.

It's time for Americans to remember what is important, like the old home place. I didn't know it when I started this painting, but it is in response to my emotional reactions to all of this.

Thoughts took me down Oklahoma's back roads, though small towns, seeing the many frame houses, some still occupied, others abandoned, all carrying stories and memories.

Thus the painting, palette knives and brushes. Soon available at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery at Paseo Arts District.

A day for comfort

"Home," 5 x 7 watercolor holiday greeting card

It's a day when we all need some comfort, some security, some goodness, some beauty.

Already withering under the demands and dangers of a pandemic and racism,  we endure the aftermath of a bitter election bringing more anxiety and turmoil as vote counting, lies and threats continue.

Crossing a metaphorical bridge to we're not sure where, I hope today's watercolor holiday greeting card brings some comfort, thinking of the security of home.

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The colors of home

"The home place," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb cold press paper

What  color is home? What color is a memory?  What color is an emotion?
Impossible to find one answer, if at all, isn't it? How can a color define something, other than represent moods perhaps.
Even the word is varied, going way back, according to the OED, to  Old English (as early as the 400s AD)  ham --"a dwelling place, house, abode, fixed residence; estate; village; region, country," from Proto-Germanic haimaz "home" (source also of Old Frisian hem "home, village," Old Norse heimr "residence, world," heima "home," Danish hjem, Middle Dutch heem, German heim "home," Gothic haims "village"), from ProtoIndoEuropean (t)koimo-, "to settle, dwell, be home." Used as an adjective from 1550s. The old Germanic sense of "village" is preserved in place names and in hamlet.
More than you wanted to know. Today's watercolor is just an attempt at some emotions, playing around.

"Home"--more than just a word

"Home," today's 5 x 7 watercolor card

'Tis the time of year that "home" grows in feeling beyond its ancient history as just a word.
Listening to holiday music, decorating a tree, enjoying the present of family brings back memories and emotions deep within.
Mere definitions do not come close to the meanings, which is perhaps why it is such an old word with so many variations and levels of meaning.
First spoken at least 4,500 years ago in the Caspian steps as a Proto-Indo-European root word *tkei, it meant something like "to settle, dwell, be home." 
From there as humans spread out and became isolated by geography, its descendants are found in hundreds of languages  as diverse as Kurdish and Sanskrit, Bengali and Nepali, besides most of the western world.
It forms all or part of words such as amphictyonic, hamlet, hangar, haunt, site, situation and much more.
More than you want to know. "Words have meanings," I used to preach to students. They and we often have no idea how deep the meanings are. 
But wanting to be "home" for the holidays, or any other time, is deep within us. 

Bridges to peace

The call home...5" by 7" watercolor

Home.
That's what most people think about around Thanksgiving, Christmas and the holiday season.
Those who are far away remember the gatherings of previous years, especially when they can't return. As they grow older, they establish their own homes and the tradition continues.
For those who miss them across the years and miles, the tables bring memories in spite of the vacancies.
Phone calls and cards help, but it's not the same. The hope and anticipation for eventual reunion holds.  And for those who will never return, their memories still inhabit "home."
The holidays are bridges to peace, to love, to family and friendship, to home--like covered bridges in a snow-blanketed landscape in the upper Midwest, linking home with travelers, and years and memories.

Ten days 'till Christmas--home

Home for the holidays, 5 by 7 watercolor, card

The holidays...when family members want to be home. I remember reading the letters of my uncles in a faraway war, longing to be home always, but especially at Christmas, the closer it got. Forever after, Christmas time was special, filled with memories of home, of family members. 

It's true also when you or your kids go off to college, or the military or around the country and world--when do you want to hear them the most. When your parents are gone, when other loved ones have died or are no long part of you, when do you think of them the most? At Christmas, when they're not at home. It can be a lonely time, watching twinkling lights, shadows from a Christmas tree, favorite ornaments, sacred hymns and carols--all that breathe the world "Home."

Traveling toward Christmas

Traveling toward Christmas, 6 x 9 watercolor

The story of Christmas has always been  one of travel, starting with Mary and Joseph far away from home, seeking shelter, and the wise men following a star to find them.
Ever since, the faithful have made pilgrimages in His honor, to churches, to holy places, to remember.
And today, even more people travel to be with their families and loved ones. It is no accident that "I'll be home for Christmas," is such a favorite. My second son is soon on the road back to the Texas panhandle and Oklahoma. My brother-in-law is flying from California, and in a few days I'll visit youngest son and his family in Iowa. It's all about the joy of reunion, of the awareness of passing years and miles. Traveling toward Christmas--no wonder it's the busiest travel time of the year. I pray for safe journeys.
We are all mindful of those who can't come home for Christmas, and we'd better be mindful of those who have no home for Christmas. And on my mind much and missed are those who used to come home for Christmas, or to whose home we traveled -- who won't be there this Christmas. They've made another journey to an eternal home.

Ten days 'till Christmas

Home for Christmas--4 by 6 watercolor

Leaving home, watercolor

9 by 12 watercolor, 140# d'Arches paper

How much does it hurt inside when a child leaves home or goes far away?

Serenity

Watercolor--9 x 12

140 # Kilimanjaro paper

The color of poetry

 

Spring Creek...I must paint this

The home place

Up the street