Watercolor Poems

Watercolor Art for The On Being Project, copyright © Sophia Khan

Synchronicities are some of the most beautiful and mysterious gifts we enjoy along this wondrous journey of life, don’t you find. I will circle back to something that felt synchronistic to me recently. But first, I want to share a heartfelt thank you to my long time subscribers for being here, and my warmest welcome to those of you who are new here. If you have recently joined, you most likely have found me through On Being. Thank you so much for being here.

The watercolor above, which may have lead you to me, was painted for On Being, with a haiku series by International Peacebuilder, John Paul Lederach, as inspiration. Titled, Memoriale: Haiku and the Crowned Newness, it is an “Unfolding Poem” for the Moment We are In, which he began writing on December 13, 2019; the day the World Health Organization was first informed of an unknown form of pneumonia originating in Wuhan. You can follow this series on The On Being Project Instagram, or website.

It was a true honor and a joy to be a part of the work in this way, and I am so grateful for the opportunity, especially in the time that we are in, when not much seems certain. But despite this uncertainty, and perhaps even because of it, everything seems possible.

My synchronicity....

I typically take a walk outside my home in the early evening, and just the other day I was listening to an audio titled Wisdom from the Celtic World, by John O’Donohue. I happened to learn of his work through On Being, from Krista Tippett’s beautiful interview with him.

During this audio, he makes mention of Venice. Venice is a prominent subject in my studio, and I was delighted to hear him describe its beauty with the moving words and visuals he shared. He recalls being in the famed Piazza San Marco one evening, during an international dance festival. There was a full moon, a storm, and the water levels were ferociously rising all around the city. In the piazza, there was an orchestra playing Stravinksy alongside a ballet performance. He describes this moment as “being enfolded in a simplicity of complete lyrical unity. The moon, the ocean, the dance, the orchestra, and all of us in the dark. Somehow the music sealed us all together in a seamless circle of belonging.”

At first it felt somewhat like a description of seeming opposites; the darkness of the storm with the serenity of the music and the dance. But what especially captures this visual for me, is that both occurred at once, everything in harmony, and alongside the other, and were experienced with a certain unison. In some ways, it feels like what we are experiencing now.

If you follow me on social media, I recently shared that I will be gifting Venice inspired stationary. Why stationary, and why now? I feel that letter writing may be a welcome form of remembering and reaching out at this time. Perhaps even an invitation to recall and write one’s own dreams, and to know that they matter perhaps now most of all. Because now, we are paying close attention to what is most dear to us and the rest seems to fade away of its own accord.

And while we may be physically distant from many of our friends and family, there is an opening to share and be with others in a way that perhaps we have not shared before. For me personally, a friend reaching out to simply ask how I am doing, feels like an invitation to share on a deeper level than I did with them before.

This downloadable Venice stationary, which can be printed from your home for your writing enjoyment, is available here. For a limited time it is complimentary, as a small gesture of artful giving from my studio doors to you, with the option to purchase.

I hope this letter and my offering provides perhaps a moment of the escape and tranquility that it provided me to write and share here. And as always, I love hearing from readers if there is anything here you would like to respond to. If there is a subject you would like to see more of in these letter, I am very open to how I may best be of service during this time. It may take a few days, but I always write back to every email.

~

Until next time, I wish you and your loved ones much serenity, ease, wellness, and beauty, and perhaps your own unique experience of a certain grace filled “lyrical unity” that John O’Donohue had described. Those moments do come. And right now we cannot help but become ripe for them, because we are so tender, because we are so open.

And that feels like a beautiful thing.