Me, Unearthed

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I wear my soul a bit more on the sleeve than most. I’ve been this way all my life. When I was young I thought I was flawed. I felt different. I was different. Still am. Only now, I see the beauty inherent to my peculiar makings. When little I wanted to fit in. Now, I hope to never fit into any mold made by man. God knew I needed to be the person I am, just as I am, to carry out my intended work. I believe this for me. And I believe this for you.

With every day that passes, I dust another layer of mind-interference away from my true self. Discovering me is like an excavation; one that has required a lifetime. I’m still unearthing aspects that until now, were hidden.

Sometimes after having chiseled away a hardened belief that no longer serves me, I discover a fear I hadn’t seen before. I no longer sit and view these findings as evidence of faultiness. I don’t believe we are, at our core, faulty. I view the fears within me as sensitivities requiring my attention and nurturing hand; much like a child that needs a bit more help than its confident sibling. Uncovering a bit of fear, insecurity or doubt is not proof of imperfection. It’s proof of my evolving. All of these things rest within. It’s simply up to us as to whether we bring them to light, where we can better examine them, and see them more clearly. Things that are smothered tend to stir more than those freely allowed to breathe. Or so it is with me.

The me that I brought to light a year ago is only a fraction of the me that is writing to you now. From my earliest days I was able to see this deeper version of myself. It was never completely hidden. There it sat like the tip of a stone jutting from the dirt. Except for most of my life, I saw it as a hindrance. Something upon which I’d often stub my toe. But then one day, I decided to dig.

When all was said and done I wanted to know who I was. I wanted to connect with the deepest parts of me. And as with any deep unearthing, I extracted the broken bones from my past; doing so was a must as they sat atop my greatest treasures. I cried at the sight of both. I don’t believe we’re required to be perfect. If so, then we are perfect just as we are – today – whether in a state of joy, fear, longing or contented. I’m no more perfect today than I was a year ago. I love me now, and I loved me then. The difference being, the more I unearthed, the more there was to accept and choose to love. I had to find the courage to love my many broken bones. Now I display the broken pieces from my past along side that which sparkles. Both have the ability to shine under the sun. It’s up to me to dust them off, and place them there. The sun can’t shine upon those things left buried.

I will be an excavator of me upon my final days. Upon my lips will rest the residual echoes of sweet sincerity from one surprising discovery after another. If there is such a thing as fault, then let that fault be when I didn’t have the courage to get my hands dirty; when I chose not to fall onto my knees and dig within – and not with those things I brought to light. I feel lighter with less things buried. One needs to lighten what’s on their chest if they are to breathe. And so with that I dig.

Sane

Total Submergence

Photo by Bruce Mozert, 1938.

There are times when we dive underwater to explore what rests below; to discover what can be found at such great depths within ourself. And then there are times when we go under not from our own choosing, but because something forced us under; our fingers slipped, and without premeditation, we suddenly let go.

I’ve found that almost all of my answers can be found from looking within. Some answers I placed there years ago. Others surprise me with their appearance. Memories dwell inside us like colorful coral reefs. And when the time is right we swim gently around every outcropping, allowing ourselves to live in the memory.

If one is prepared to be underwater, then it is a place of beautiful exploration. Downed ships still retain some of their prior glory, even when shrouded in loss. But it is when we are there without oxygen; when we wake in the morning, to discover we’re already buried under the pressure of our worries. Those are the times when it is the hardest to swim.

As a writer I know that some of my best work has been brought to the surface due to these deep-sea excavations. Emotions so rich with life, memories so raw they haven’t lost their tangible feel. I gather them in my arms, and like a child I drop them on the shore to examine under the sun. Even painful memories appear different when cultivated with intention.

When one finds themselves there without the security of a chest full of air; those are the moments when one feels only that of the tide pulling them under. They see the light from the water’s surface grow smaller as they fall softly deeper. All is dark. All is quiet. And they feel completely alone. There is no glimmer of excitement held within their eyes. These are the moments that sweep through us all; some softly and occasionally; some with a repetitive force like a wave that never grows tired of arriving. Whether from catastrophic news, heart-break or loss, we go under. We notice a peculiar detachment between us and the world around.

I began writing my first novel while suffering from total submersion. That one book was the final gasp of air from my inner being, my soul. I often slipped under the water’s of my life; beginning as a child that used it for escape. The familiarity of being submerged felt oddly comfortable; like a coat that didn’t fit, but because I wore it so often, I knew it well.

Being underwater, searching one’s great depths, is a fantastical excursion when done with purpose and oxygen. When we go deep to discover our core truths, to make peace with our history, our hurts, then this journey is one that brings us into alignment with who we are. It’s a necessity when it comes to one’s evolving. But when one goes under not from their own choosing. And feels only that of water filling their lungs, then their world goes black. My soul chose writing a novel, for me to later read, as a way of taking its final breath; bringing light to my dark places. From that day on, I’ve become very adept at deep-sea travel. I know all that rests within me. Some things aren’t lovely. But they are part of me; they have purpose. I could either look at a downed ship as complete failure, or as a bold attempt; one that made me stronger in the end. I reshaped my entire life after writing my first novel. My soul didn’t want to drown, it wanted to swim.

So if you find yourself sinking. Open your eyes. Use your strength to look around. And then, when the time is right, come up for air. Fill your lungs, and never again, turn a blind eye to all that is within you. You’re strong enough to swim.

Sane

Behind the Glass

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I wonder how we would live if tomorrow were to be our final day. What things would we say that we’ve previously held silent. What feelings tucked in the shadows would we bring to light.

It’s an odd thing to look at life this way. Instead we feel we have more days left than we can count. And due to such, we live with methodical movements. We pace ourselves. We take the things we are compelled to do today and force them out into the future; when its appropriate. We reason what actions are best done now, and which should remain stagnant in an inertia of our own doing. Our mind tells us to live this way.

I often live this way, and yet I don’t feel it’s for the best. What would happen if we lived with wild abandon? I have to imagine one’s soul would finally be allowed to spread its wings. I know my wings are constantly bucking against the walls of my own restraint. Who’s sensibilities are these that we use to dictate the movements of our lives? Surely not our own.  Fear, perhaps.

At first this sounds like such a preposterous notion; to live as if it were one’s last day. And yet, I have to believe, anything I feel worth doing, should be done – today. Does it become more credible, worthy or concrete if pushed out? Some day and one day, are words best used for things of little value, not things of importance.  My parents lived with a repetitive motto spoken between them, and that singular motto was: Someday. That day never came.

These may sound like the meanderings of a free spirit, but please know, if tomorrow morning your life were to meet its end, then today would have been the perfect day to say all that needed to be said. Today would have been the best day to treat yourself to those things for which you’ve denied yourself; little pleasures, too luxurious for the you of today.

One morning I awoke like every day before it. Yet by that afternoon my life hung in the balance. Even with that life experience sitting as a cornerstone of my existence, my rigid sensibilities often stand in my way. Life is to be lived. God frowned upon a lukewarm existence and quite frankly sitting here right now, so do I.

Claim this day and make it your own. Turn your imaginary desires into reality. You’ve pondered long enough. Action is needed. Action is the time when the body gets to feel the exuberance of faith in action, of desires come to fruition. Give yourself a moment. Think of those few precious things that you’ve put into pause for reasons of your own making. And ask yourself this, “If this thing that matters so much to me, is worthy of doing then, shouldn’t it be done now?” Because now is all we have. We are in a continual cycle of now. Even when we tell ourselves we’ve arrived at a later fixed-point in time, it’s really just a different version of now. I realize that sounds confusing. It needn’t be.

All the words sitting silently on your tongue need to be spoken. Your thoughts are just as worthy as anyone’s – bring them to life. Our soul is waiting for us to release the pause button. Our soul is waiting for us to find the courage to step into those things we feel too grand to pursue. We deserve to live that reality – now. I want this for me. I want this for you. I have to wonder what we would all feel like if we lived our lives in full. No restraints. No compartmentalized, rigid ideas of proper timing. To me the idea of living in full is much like that of standing in an open field on a warm summer day. Open for possibilities. No longer living behind the glass, I’m now open for life to infuse me with all it has to offer. Often these restraints, are my own. I’m unbuckling them. I’m releasing them. I’m spreading my wings. I don’t want to look at my dreams, I want to live within them.

Sane

Heaven and Earth

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I’ve been sitting here holding crystals in my hand. I love the idea that these tiny rocks were once a part of the earth. Now they are mine, and I’m allowed to roll them in my palm.

Holding these stones, culled from the depths of the earth, into the light, it occurred to me, I won’t ever marry again unless the man is prepared to move heaven and earth to be with me. And I need to be prepared to do the same. I will teach my children, and perhaps even my step children the reasons behind this very important decision.  What we do for our partner over the course of the first six months reveals the blueprints of the entire union. We can’t ask from one another to build a skyscraper if the blueprint for which we are viewing shows that of a cabin. It would be unfair to both involved. All we can do is allow the blueprints to unfold and both decide from there.

As a man, never should you be with a woman who wants anything more than your heart. Because there may be times when your heart is all you have to give. And because she chose you based on the makings of such, by your side she will remain even during the worst of times. And as a woman, embracing the makings of a man’s heart is the only way to know, if his motives are fueled by the energy that will endure time.

Pay attention, I’ll tell my children. With loving eyes watch the way things take shape. The first few months tell most everything. If during that time a man doesn’t feel inclined to remove boulders to find a way to get to you, I’ll tell my daughters, then he isn’t worth your effort to be with him. Because there will be times when life throws a few obstacles your way. If he isn’t determined enough, or impassioned enough to fight for you when all is well – he never will. And to you boys, don’t panic. If heaven and earth sounds a bit heavy. It needn’t be. The lifting of it requires effort, thought and heart. That’s all. And she will notice. It’s in those little things that will give you the woman with whom you want to spend your life and your bed. If you want her to show you her divine femininity, treat her accordingly. Treat her with the utmost of attentiveness and tenderness. I assure you, she will reward your efforts by returning the same. And if you want her to give you her body, take the time to embrace her mind.

Dear sweet girls, remember, some of the very best men haven’t a clue of what they are doing. If their moves are cohesive, it’s from habit. Back away. If they fumble, take delight, the curtains are being pulled back on their heart with unpracticed movements. Allow them to be boys. Don’t fault them for the very thing you want most from them. Allow them that. Remind them of their strength, as the strongest amongst them often fails to see it for themselves. And remember, love one another not like you want to be loved, as that is the other’s job to do, but love them as they want to be loved. That is why they want you. Don’t forget your feminine touch dear girls, it is the one for which they most desire. And men don’t forget that even though your hands are strong, treat her gently. It is because she is delicate that you have chosen her.

Granted these are just the musings of a simple little writer. But I say, go be bold. If the blueprints make you smile, then let love remove the boulders, and let love lift the heavens. Don’t settle for less.

Sane

Wild Horses

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I hadn’t planned on writing this evening. But sitting here right now, it’s the only thing I can think to do. It’s the only thing that feels right. Then again, writing is like breathing to me. It’s the time when the horses within me get a chance to run free across the meadows of my mind.

I wish I could warn you in advance as to what I’m about to write. Except, I have no idea what that is. I rarely ever do. Like always my fingers sit poised atop the keyboard, and then they move. And with that my mind opens. And hopefully when all is said and done, I’ve touched your soul and lightened mine.

I’ve had so many thoughts on my mind lately I noticed I’ve taken to crawling into my shell of introspection. Of course while there, I’m not the only one about which I think. I think about everything and everyone. But also, while there I’ve noticed the certain flavor of angst sweep across my taste buds; the one needed to return to my third novel. Within almost every emotion I have, those ranging from the darkest to the lightest, there is a flavor. Like a spice, they have a purpose. Some are used sparingly; when not my life becomes overwhelming. But then there are those emotions that are so pleasant I only wish I could taste them daily.

I sat in a small Catholic church the other day. While sitting there I prayed. I prayed about the person sitting next to me. And I prayed about my life. Then I began to look around. I noticed how some were listening, some were busy passing the time. I had to wonder of those whose faces were pointed forward, what were they thinking. Were they off in their own meditative state, or absorbing the words being spoken. Afterward, if there had been a pop quiz, I wonder how everyone would have fared. If you were wondering, I was doing both. But I wasn’t there for that, I was there out of an expression of love for my friend. I wasn’t there for the sermon. In fact, I tend to physically feel the confines put on God when I enter a church. But I appreciate the moment for what it represents for all those gathered there. I can find no fault in the ways of others when it comes to trying to commune with a higher power.

So on this Valentine’s night, feeling a bit unsettled inside as I am, I will recline and listen to my favorite music. I will continue to drink this surprisingly good Malbec, and commune with my higher power. I will give voice to all that is on my heart and mind. And if left unconfined, a soft voice will answer. That is the gift I will give to myself tonight. It’s important to be surrounded by those that you love and love you on a day that celebrates love.

I do hope you’ve had a very pleasing day. If you are the kind that eschews such holidays as this, then no worries, it’s almost over. If you are the kind that is heartbroken due to being alone, then take comfort, it’s almost over. And if you are looking into the eyes of a beautiful friend or your life’s love, then dear sweet reader, savor every minute because it’s almost over.

Sane

Loved By Me

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If, like me, you find yourself alone on Valentine’s Day, please do as I do – treat yourself well. As the spotlight shines down and reveals that you have yet to end your day looking into the eyes of your life’s love, or even that of a mere lover, use the day to look into yourself. And when you do, please do so with kindness. Fall in love with you.

It almost seems like a superfluous concept – to fall in love with one’s self. And yet, it is your self that will follow you wherever you go. It is yourself that will talk to you when no one is there. Your self will damn you. Your self will love you. The belief you have in yourself can cause you to crumble or it can cause you to reach unprecedented heights. The energy and perspective you put into you – you will receive from you in the form of inner knowing, conviction and peace.

On this day, instead of giving free rein to a mind that critiques and reminds us of our failures, come to peace with those moments when the outcome for which you had most hoped didn’t manifest. Think about giving yourself credit for having survived something that, at the time, felt like death. When you look in the mirror, instead of seeing the effects of time and stress, see a face that has viewed some of the ugliest of circumstances, and yet can radiantly shine when caught up in laughter. And when you look down at your body, try not to see those things that cause you disappointment. Try to remember that your body is giving you it’s very best, dependent upon what you are giving it. Furthermore, if your body is like mine, it has moved through hell and back, perhaps more than once. And when the time comes that you are confronted with your life’s love, they will see your beauty – because doing so is inherent to the nature of who they are. A divine love is divinely given, and thus sees the divine in us even when we falter and struggle to see it for ourselves.

Go easy on you. I would recommend that you take every day to treat yourself well. But if not, then please use tomorrow as a celebration of the love you are cultivating for you. Making peace with yourself. Loving your many attributes, thoughts, hopes and dreams is the beginning of the most important relationship one can have – the one we have with ourself. You will be with you during your greatest successes, your deepest disappointments and upon your final day. And if you are blessed to meet up with your life’s love, you’ll then be coming from a place not of insecurity, but of acceptance. You’ve accepted you, which will allow you to accept them.

I won’t deny that the favorable ending for tomorrow would be in front of a fire or wrapped in the arms of one’s lover. That would be my chosen route. But instead, I will endeavor to treat myself well. I will remind myself of my own beauty. My triumphs. My successes. My gifts. I will also spend the day spoiling me as I would wish to be spoiled by a partner. I will stop off and enjoy the taste of something delectable; its a fair assumption dark chocolate will be involved. I will peruse my favorite boutiques and I will allow my body to get pampered. Most of all, I will go easy on me. And my hope is that you go easy on you. Whether you are loved by many, loved by one or only loved by you – never forget – you are quite special.

Sane

Love Me Do

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Those of us who are divorced, the growing majority, know first hand the crushing truth that marriage can be about as empty, and un-fulfilling, as white bread. It isn’t the bread that’s at fault, it’s the quality of the ingredients.

I’ve been thinking a bit about marriage; if it carries any value, what it means to me at this point in my life and would I ever sign such a contract again. My conclusions are that the contract means nothing to me. In fact, I could buy a home with the money my divorces have cost me. That piece of paper is just that – paper. If the two people signing it do not possess certain fundamental emotional attributes, if the depth and purity of love is not there, then the legally binding contract is similar to that of a prison sentence. Or at the very least a bit like when we blindly joined Columbia House as kids because the lure of ten albums (or in my case, 8 tracks. Yes I’m that old) for a penny sounded like a deal. Instead, months later we owed money and were filled with dread at the mere sight of a new shipment arriving in the mail; all of which culminated in our parents, now angered, having to write threatening letters to free us from the mess.

But then it happens. We see that elderly couple walking hand in hand. Our heart melts. And we secretly wish to call such love our own. We weren’t meant to be solo birds. We want only to have that ‘special’ someone in our nest. But we also don’t want them uprooting, bludgeoning or otherwise destroying the nest, or us. We also don’t want them flitting off while we’re out busy yanking worms from the ground.  All that proved was that this person was not that ‘special’ person. Important for our development, but not our life’s love.

We can’t throw our love interest onto the table, grab a pair of tweezers, and begin dissecting their emotions. We can’t plug them into a machine with gauges and needles showing sincerity. It’s all a bit risky in that regard. And therein lies the reason so many of us avoid the mess altogether. But love is a constantly regenerating force that lives within. The best we can do is look back at our past not with anger, but with appreciation for all that we have learned. Life gives us those experiences with the hope that one day we will make the choice that brings us closer in alignment to who we are meant to be, and to whom we are meant to be united.

Marriage has the potential to be one of the most beautiful expressions of love two people can have for one another. But only if the conviction, commitment and love is there. Two people who love one another, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually, have no need for a contract. They are bound by something much more significant than legalities. Those with no need for a contract, are the one’s who are best suited to sign a contract.

Whether you choose to ever marry again or not, remember that it isn’t the paper that matters. It isn’t the pomp and circumstances of the event. And God knows, appearances are of little value. What does matter is the love. It’s the only thing that makes anything worth doing.

Sane

Love Me Do – The Beatles

The Ever Important Orbicularis Oris

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The anatomical juxtaposition of two orbicularis oris muscles in a state of contraction. That’s just plain sexy talk to this science gal. More so, the neural stimulation from such a contraction can be downright euphoric at times. Oh what those muscles can do. We give kisses. We receive kisses. Sometimes we steal them. I tend to like all three.

Kissing is such a unique form of expression. How odd it is that we take these muscles that help us with so many other things, such as eating, verbal expression, breathing (when our nose is plugged) and also use them to press against another. Add to it the fact that if one really scrutinizes the maneuvers involved in kissing, well, it looks down right peculiar. And yet it isn’t. It’s what every fiber in our being wants to do when deeply attracted to another. This thing, that when described in technical terms sounds awkward, is actually the first steps of a very sensual dance between lovers.

As a quasi germaphobe I can assure you that my mind has given ample time pondering the absurdity of suckling on something that once coughed up a loogie. There I said it. It had to be said. And yet, when with my partner, I seem to forget all this past contemplation regarding the subject. Instead, there is no place my lips would rather be. How odd it is the way the mind works when hormones and the heart have their way.

Being one that notices the obscure, I must say I’ve also given thought to how odd the human tongue is. The way it can jut out and wiggle around. The way it’s required for us to speak, to taste. How this thing which is down right crazy looking, is also quite crucial. And, in keeping on topic, without it, those kisses would dwindle down to no more than something similar to two fish mouthing one another. No, instead we use them to thrust, twist, twirl, glide and also quickly lap up ice cream if the day is exceptionally hot. The tongue, and its importance, should never be overlooked.

But kisses aren’t just simply the manifestation of our physical urges. There are times when more is said through a tender kiss than what can be relayed in an entire novel. There are times when we kiss the head of our child because the love we feel is so deep it’s almost painful. Then there are times when words won’t do our feelings justice, but the energy held within a kiss will. I find more energy in the moment that lives in the slight pause before a kiss is fully expressed, than often within the kiss itself. The expectancy that lives in that moment is delicious; the way two open mouths can be centimeters apart hanging on the precipice of full disclosure; the way the very air that lived inside one’s lover is mixed with that of our own – exquisite. There is so much energy in the simple paused moments of life.

So on that note I will leave you with this thought, kiss your children. Sometimes it is through that simple act that they fully know they are loved, accepted and wanted. And when it comes to  your partner, never cheat yourself or them out of the magic that lives within a kiss between lovers; how the eyes close, the mind softens and the souls are allowed to dance free.

Sane

“You are my peanut, I am your brittle!” Pepe Le Pew

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When I was young I had to pitch my socks when I lost its mate. Obviously one couldn’t wear mismatched socks. Now, I spend good money to buy mismatched socks for my daughter – as it is considered fashionable. Life shows us that what might be perceived one way at present, may very well be viewed differently down the road.

If we can be a bit objective we notice the humor in the way life, ideas and circumstances shift precariously from here to there. But of course, our inner knowing, the very part of us that sits as our foundation, works best when remaining centered and balanced. I feel a relationship is similar to us in that it too requires a firm foundation; all the while the outward extensions move and adjust. Love requires roots. Something firm to hold it in place when the winds arrive. But love also requires that the stems, leaves and buds are allowed to grow. Love is not stagnant or dormant. Love is not a shackled event. It is an expression. It is, in my opinion, the most delicious of life’s expressions.

Our mind can trip us up a bit when it comes to love. When we find it we are tempted to seize onto it and ask of it to never change. But people change. A soul that does not expand and flourish is a soul that is no longer drawing air. There are many people who are living and yet are far from being alive. I know this feeling.

Always we should be showing these two sides of ourselves; the soul which expands, becoming a fuller version of itself; and the human that grows with new life experiences. As an old woman I hope to look into the eyes of the man with whom I will ultimately unite. And when I do I want to see that same beautiful soul, yet brimming from expansion. I also hope to see a man who has grown exponentially. I may have met him when he was just a mere sapling but with age he became a full-fledged oak; towering with life experiences.

We should want such things for our partner. We should want such things for ourselves. I never plan to give up on me. There are times when I’m not sure I like what I see, but I know it’s just a matter of shifting my perception. The same thing, yet viewed from a different angle can change from a negative to a positive – all by adjusting the mind. God likes to remind me of the importance of loosening the rigidity within my mind. And due to such, I try to allow myself my flaws, allow others theirs. I try to ease up on me. And ease up on those around me. Rarely anymore do I slam the gavel of judgement down. More often than not I try to first shift my perception. Sometimes no angle will provide peace. And then I must move on. But what makes a tree so strong isn’t that it is unmoving, but that it bends. Love moves. Love bends.

As this week of amore’ sweeps across our lives I hope we all look at love as the alive thing that it is. It wants to expand. It wants to be rooted, but it also wants to grow.

Sane

Subtle Shades of Color

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I’ve given a good deal of thought as of late to relationships. Too much. But necessary as my mind has its own rhythm. Whenever I try to force a new rhythm, I falter.  I always need to go deep within my thoughts. But emerge with the clarity needed.

We all have a certain rhythm. To deny it would be much like trying to play the drums on a piano. It doesn’t honor either instrument to expect a different sound than the one inherent to its making. Such is true with the human mind. Of course, when allowed to spiral wildly out of control, then the rhythm no longer has purpose.

So in my own precarious way, over the course of the last week I had to allow my mind to move along, verse after verse, until all my thoughts finally culminated into a cohesive song that felt and sounded right to my ear. People, each and every one of them, contribute to the masterpiece that is our life. Each has their place. Some dot lightly onto the canvas. Others we allow a thicker brushstrokes of their presence. Looking at my own life, I’ve given delicate, yet deliberate thought as to what colors are best within my life. I’ve concluded that I do not want the same colors as that of my own, as I have no need for duplication. Instead, I want balance.

I’m not a haphazard person. Never have been. I tend to sit back and think about things, people and circumstances. I relish doing so. It brings me joy to dive deeply into the thoughts of not only myself, but others. There is room for all thoughts. And it is within these colors that I want to paint my life.

I have to believe if all I bring to the world are hues of a certain color, azure, cerulean and rose, I would benefit from the enhancement of a touch of burnt umber and a broad stroke of virescent. Alternate ways of thinking, different perspectives on life – intrigues me. So for me, there is great value in contrast. God knew this. It is seen in an orange sun setting amidst a lavender sky. It is seen when the blue heavens sit atop snow-covered mountains. Harmony within the contrast. A delicate understanding and allowing of one another. Nature does this skillfully. I am quite certain, we can too.

As I look down at the palette that is mine, and the many people coloring my life, I am happy to see a vast array of shades. I intend to paint them vibrantly within my world. I want to see them displayed in their full splendor. Some of those closest to me have hues so similar to mine we can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins. And yet, I also have those in my life that always turn my eye in a different direction; their colors being so different. And when it comes to love, I like the thought of having access to a set of colors that I’ve never quite had before. If given the chance, I intend to play with these colors. I want to see what they do when mixed with that of my own. More often than not, the most breathtaking masterpieces are the ones appearing upon first glance to be subtle with their scope of color. But upon closer look, we see the full spectrum used to create one flower, the iris of one eye and the leaves of one tree. It’s all in there – blended perfectly.

Sane