Dark to Light

Dark to Light

I'm scared. Running on the rough path. It's dark.

Hope I don't stumble.

I gotta get outta here. Out of this musty, damp darkness.

Pretty sure I'm being followed.

Chased by demons. (You must know the feeling?)

It's a half mile to the village and I don't want to look

behind.

I'll meet up with some friends there and sit

by a bright fire that keeps the wild creatures at bay.

The sky spins above me and I try to pick up my speed.

Sweat drips from my hair and forehead, down my nose

and earlobes.

Out of nowhere

a rabbit darts in front and gives me a fright.

What's he doing up so late? Some dark thing must have

scared him.

My heart races and the sharp stones poke through my souls.

I'm running fast but won't be able to keep this up.

Bare branches dash over my head. No moon tonight.

I spot the warm glow a little distance ahead.

Slow down, I tell myself. Take it a little easy.

I just need to get my body there.

Too late. I stumble. I glide across the sand and gravel.

Layers of skin

are scraped off my face, chest, palms and knees.

Bones show through.

White light flashes.

Dark figures are catching up to my sprawled body.

Planet spins and my awareness is flung out into the heavens.

I feel like I should just let go. Too late. The dark shadows

surely caught me by now. Can't feel a thing.

Except,

warm hands pulling me up.

Flung over a tender shoulder. What happened?

Limp body bounced by springy steps.

I go unconscious. Suddenly feel a rush of warm air.

Out of the stale cold damp, into warmth. Inside where there

is a smell of sweet herbs and smoky fire.

My eyes slowly open. The gentle being puts me down in a chair.

I'm home again.

Online Gallery

My online art gallery is refreshed and updated. Complete with online purchase offers, including a 2010 calendar. Thanks for taking the time to view my work. Enjoy!

Walking

Walking is one of my favorite ways of quieting my mind.  No matter what is happening in my life, when I walk without hurry, my thinking can easily return to peace and serenity. 



Video and digital images: Tim Mammel, 2009.

Spring Fever, Monet, and e. e. cummings

"springrhythmenergy"
digital animation by Tim Mammel, 2008

I've been walking around barefoot a lot for this past week. Shoes are one of the first things to go for me, after the thaw. It is difficult to describe my elation when I feel sharp stones and soft grass on the bottoms of my feet.

The onset of any season energizes me and Spring stirs its own curious intense feelings. I want to be outside all the time, walking, hiking, biking, boating, roller blading, anything! And more so than ever, I have the urge to do a million things at once. I want to run outside, be inside making art and writing, make music, run outside, go to art shows, listen to music, run outside, breath the warm air, run outside, and dive into books of poetry, especially love poetry. Yes, lest we forget the hallmark of Spring fever: the out-of-control urge to be in love.

Now, I'm not in a romantic relationship at this time. Nor do I intend to run out and impulsively jump into a fling in order to fill some sort of emptiness or hunger that Winter has left with me. I don't even feel discouraged. In fact, I take delight in seeing friends around me being in love, being happy for them, observing how nature runs its procreating programming in all species this time of year. The strong currents of Spring are giving me a renewed enthusiasm to connect with people. This year's planting season is turning up the volume of my appreciation for good friendships, deeper connection with the Creator and my own drive to create.

My current Springtime ecstasy has been shot into motion by a recent cacophony of art shows, musical performances, startlingly compassionate interactions with friends, and renewal of friendships of people I haven't seen since college. (Those of you who don't know me, that would be many, many years ago!)

Two artists that I always think of, especially in Spring, are the painter Claude Monet, and the poet e. e. cummings. Monet's paintings of his gardens are a true celebration for those who love their bare feet in wet grass and shallow warm ponds. e. e. cummings consistently strikes major chords with his quirky yet accessible poems. He wrote a lot about Spring, the intense initial awareness of beauty and creation. Birth and rebirth. Love and falling in love fit perfectly into the rhythm of Spring.

Here is one of my favorite love poems by e. e. cummings.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)