I want to tell you about a world. A world where people are at one with nature, and art is not a talent or a skill..... It is a way of life.
In this world, people don't just imagine faces in the clouds, they perceive the souls of the trees in their own front yard.
I had a glimpse into this world, and I cannot be the only one.
Can you sense the magic in a rainstorm? Can you pick out it's "hum" from the hums of the honeybees? Would you like to?
"Bucksnort Farm & Art Studio" was my home, and was a place where one
could walk in both worlds. On this blog, I invite you to experience
the magic that was alive there, as well as my little herd of Nigerian
Dwarf goats. It is possible to have a little piece of heaven right here
on earth. Just ask Ray from "Field of Dreams". The magic is inside of
us, and in the rocks and trees and the flowers that bloom and the rain
that falls.
The reason that most people are not aware of this (that includes me from
time to time, right now included) is that we get so overwhelmed with
what we are told is the Real World, and the push and grind to "make
something of ourselves", and all the expectations placed on us, that we
loose sight of the magic. When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?
WHY did you stop believing in Santa Claus? If "life is what we make of
it", isn't the whole reason our lives are so "f-ed up" somehow directly
related to the fact we don't believe in Santa anymore? Where did the
little kid go? Where did belief and faith in magic go? I've lived at
both ends of the argument. There was a time when I literally believed
that the power of my belief could change the world. And, there are
times I feel totally powerless. I'm sure that's true for many of you.
What has happened is that we left our Gardens untended. Much like all
the houses I looked at with a real estate agent a few years ago, most of
which just depressed me, because I could see the "half-lives" of the
former occupants. The Gardens, sometimes figuratively, sometimes
literally, had been left alone, and were now hopelessly overgrown, and
parts were now dead.
Imagine what would happen if we tended our own gardens, and kept our
noses out of the gardens of others, unless we were invited over for
coffee? Come back here, and take the walk with me, as we walk through
"Forgotten Gardens".
--
Erin McRaven
Bucksnort Farm & Art Studio
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