Nature

I love working with beets – whole, leafy, bushy beets.

Everything about them leaves this deep, ruby tint. As you rinse the giant green leaves, the red stalks look like rhubarb and tint the water red. As they drip on the steel sink, the droplets look luminescent over the cool, silver blue.

If you hold a leaf up to the light, so the sun shines thru, the leaf is a gorgeous, vibrant yellow green, contrasted with the crimson stem system running thru the leaf.

The leaves taste great raw.

Artwork by Bruce Zboray www.bruce-zboray.artistwebsites.com


I love stone walls.

I live in New England and pass many stone walls on my daily walk.

Some are very neat, crafted with an artistic eye and fitted very precisely in beautiful patterns, like big rock, little rock, little rock, big rock. They’re cemented together.

Did you ever walk through the woods on a path?

How many people before you did it take to wear that path into the forest floor?

There’s a trust in following it. That it will lead to someplace very good, and be safe and interesting in the journey.

And in a very literal way, I am reliving the journey of the people before me on this path. I can almost sense the other people still here, in a very real way, their imprint.

I will touch briefly on the birth of stars.

Our Miracle Universe, absolute darkness. Not a hint of light. No stars anywhere. No sounds of any kind. Nothing of any kind. Nothing at all.

Then suddenly a huge explosion like the universe has never known before, and probably will never know again.

In a matter of seconds, the universe was engulfed in a huge cloud of hydrogen gas.

The Big Bang had just occurred. From a tiny point called a singularity in the universe, the universe as we have come to know was born.

Birds singing, trickling water, crickets humming – I’ve found these sounds to be powerfully healing.

I use muscle testing, also known as kinesiology, to see the healing power of sounds, measured on a scale of 1 to 10.

The crows, the hawks and the sparrows all – all birds – the peacock, the gentle “cooaw cooaw” of the chicken – these all give a power of 10 healing sound.

And trickling water too. I am always drawn to tickling water, in a fountain, in a brook – so meditative, so healing.

It’s a hot, sultry evening. The sun’s warm rays, basking the earth all day, has left a comfortable blanket covering the front lawn.

The moon is new, and the darkness that swept in with the outgoing sun provides a perfect background for a laser light show.

How peaceful and utterly void of light is your yard. It’s dark, and you’re enjoying the tranquility that accompanies absolute stillness.

What’s that? Hey what was that?

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you saw a flash of light.

There it is again!

I really enjoy looking at tree bark - the whorls and swirls of bark as it moves up the trunk of the tree. It overlaps like house shingles. And it eddies around limbs and around the stumps of fallen limbs. You see the tree holes, and the flow of the bark around them.

The patterns are mesmerizing, like watching water that is stopped.

It really seems like something is written on the tree, by the tree, over and over again.

And when a vine climbs the tree, it is even more beautiful, especially in the autumn when the vine turns red.

Everyone has certain special things that make them smile. For me, one of those things is being around goats.

I remember one of the times my parents and I went to a local farm that we visit frequently. That particular day there were 2 baby goats, so small they could barely walk, their little legs wobbly, and their tiny voices high-pitched. One baby goat was shy, afraid, seeking shelter near his mother. But the other baby goat wanted to experience everything the world had to offer.

There is something about winter which I really love.

It feels sleepy, resting, in a sense meditating.

It seems to give an upspoken permission to just relax – to have some time for yourself.

All the colors are muted - grays and washed-out browns. And the trees are laid bare, to show a visual essence language written by their shapes, their intricate and poetic lines, all outlined with lacy fine twigs around the edges. At sunset, they glow orange.

The sun is hazy, diffuse behind a gray sky – you may even think it’s the moon.