The Ascent, The Unraveling, and The Reward

Inspired to continue listening to my intuition, I decided to try meditation. I sat beneath a fir tree, looked out over the field in front of me, and then closed my eyes. I had no expectations for the experience, yet within seconds a story began to unfold behind my eyelids. That moment inspired three works of art and the story that follows:

“Under a darkening sky, in a barren field,

a black bird appeared—quiet, watchful,

drawn by something unseen.

It moved with purpose, searching the cracked earth

until it found a single vine—fragile, half-buried, waiting.

With a sudden pull, the bird freed it from the soil.

Wings beat harder, faster. The bird rose.

Then the sky gave way.

Rain fell. First in threads, then in waves.

The earth opened its palms, and the tree drank deeply.

In the open sky, it began to shape itself into a tree.

Not all at once,

but becoming—slowly, instinctively—alive.

The bird did not flee the storm.

It circled the tree, again and again—

drawing the rain into a spiral, a vortex of motion and memory,

wrapping the tree in a living stillness.

There it stood: the echo of struggle, the root of change,

a moment held between ascent, unraveling, and reward.”

While creating these pieces, I made my own reference for the bird but chose to intuitively approach everything else. The act of letting go of perfection was deeply freeing. I sprinkled charcoal powder onto the paper and, using both hands, began rubbing it into the surface. I loosely held an eraser, allowing my hand to twist and move naturally. When I stepped back, I could see the rough form of a vine-like tree beginning to emerge.

Completing The Unraveling and The Reward using only my hands and imagination was profoundly fulfilling, fittingly reflected in the name of the final piece. The process gave me a surge of confidence. At that moment, I felt like the small vine pulled from the earth by a bird, unraveling and growing into something strong and expansive.