The Witch Ball...

Today was a throw back to my younger years, a time when my dad would wake us up early and start a massive cleaning project around the house. We spent several hours armed with various implements of destruction, each covering a preassigned area. Now the place is all organized and shiny.

As I write this everyone has run away from me under the pretense of going to the store to pick up something for dinner, yet I believe it was a mass revolt to get away from me. Owing to what Julie calls the "drill sergeant" mode I enter whenever there is a task at hand, I can't say I blame them.

The last thing I noticed that needed a good cleaning was the Witch Ball. Julie's cousin Bryan is a noted glass artist, the Witch Ball is one of his creations. It hangs on our window and was quite dusty, so as everyone was running out the door to escape, I walked over, took it down and gave it a good cleaning.

The colors that are in the glass sphere Bryan created are amazing. With the continuous movement of the day and the satellite radio blaring the "old wore out hippie" station throughout the house I had a moment of reflection. The Grateful Dead kicked in with Ripple and I stood transfixed as I stared at the Witch Ball... The lyrics of the song, the labor of the day, and the beauty of the creation I was holding in my hand swept over me as I was transported from Saturdays with my dad to moments of sheer creation through will.

There are times when a single moment becomes crystal clear in your mind. The day spent with my family... noise, arguing, chaos, music, mess, the eternal struggle to keep said mess at bay... It all made sense. These moments are the greatest works of art we can create.





I wandered out on to the porch and looked around at my world and I became overwhelmingly thankful. I live on property that has been in the family for years. My childhood was magical, full of love and noise. My family is close at hand. My sons enjoy themselves. I'm deeply in love with my wife. I create things out of wood that surrounds me and that I have watched grow for most of my life. Bits and pieces of the very woods that I grew up and played in as a child have been crafted by my hands, and now reside in the hands of others as far away as England, South America and China.... How cool is that....

I have made some good friends down through the years, true and steadfast. As with all people I have dealt with my fair share of bullshit, and I have dealt out more than my fair share of it too... But at this moment in time, on this day.... The world spins in perfection and all is well...

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of man