My kin are my family by birth and choice. I ponder on the kindred spirit, someone who experiences the world as I do, someone I feel affinity with, instinctively.

Kindred spirits: open, sympathetic, resonant.

I think of two bronze hollow tubes suspended from a tree. As the air travels across and through them, they move, together. Their nature is to sound and share their sound.

Affirmation: the action or process of stating something forcibly, clearly, publicly.

With others I generally keep much of myself to myself, in part because showing my unprotected self, my intensity, my overwhelming need and persistence to understand, my passion for beauty, art, nature, and love, can lead to an uncomfortable silence.

The act of creating, of making, is an antidote to the dislocation and confusion of silence.

I look up, and there above me is the sky. If I take my time, more often than not, it is beautiful.

The sky has no intent. No politics nor plan. It fills with fragments from a far off place, with cloud, with rain, with smoke, with tiny particles of dust and living things, the weather, calm and strong.

The changing sky is beautiful, not just because of what I see, but feel, its nature, far above my own.

Beauty is not defined by being rare.