Pantoum #147
I’m no Mother Theresa
Little do you know what lurks beneath veil and wimple
Pristine black and white thinking no longer hangs in my closet
It was a habit of secrecy
Little do you know what lurks beneath veil and wimple
I’ve been skirting the lace trim of my truth
It was a habit of secrecy
I’ll exit the cloister wearing nothing but paisley
I’ve been skirting the lace trim of my truth
Pristine black and white thinking no longer hangs in my closet
I’ll exit the cloister wearing nothing but paisley
I’m no Mother Theresa
I admit I resonate more with Sister Bertrille, the Flying Nun - than with Mother Teresa. I used to watch Sally Field each week, longing to join her in her skyward antics.
I didn’t have much exposure to nuns growing up. The Sound of Music was probably more formative than the Catholic church.
I’m thinking back to a perfect afternoon attending Live at the Met with my dear friend—and my sketchbook. I love drawing at concerts, sometimes at movies. I find it’s a beautiful way to connect with the present moment. Drawing in the absolute dark of the theatre was a challenge. Surprisingly, the hardest part wasn’t not knowing which way my fountain pen nib was facing—also, drawing through my tears. I remember feeling like the music was flowing through my pen as I conducted the arias through the line on my page.
This production was exquisite in every way. And I got to spend a wonderful day with my friend. We decided the show was beautifully disturbing and disturbingly beautiful.
Here’s a little video of the process. I went back in with water later to shade the forms—contours first, then the blur of memory, feeling, and flow.
Invitation:
Draw in the dark.
Don’t wait to see clearly—let your hand remember what your heart saw.
See you soon for #148,
P.S. If you want to browse through some of my writings visit The Pantoumery. What’s a pantoum, you say? I’m writing one each day, for a year. Learn how HERE
Also, The Well platform (prompts, classes and meeting links) is now available as mobile app!