May 3, 1999: At peace with all living things
I believe in God! I believe Jesus is the Son of God. What I don’t understand is how each religion can come up with its own interpretation and take another life because of it. I would rather lay more faith in my spirituality then place it inside a man created religion—the openness of believing in “all” who make up this world, without judging the hand of any other man, insect or fish. When I look up and see an eagle or hawk, I feel an enormous need to write—for all I know, he was leading spirits to my canvas—maybe in the bird world, word has gotten around about my faith in them?

I stare out into my green forest, viewing the homes of so many which fly—the continuous horizon blends song with sight. Imagination with temptation—the branch of a tree reaches upward in hopes of being blessed by the new sun. The busy leaves scrape the passing cloud savoring all forms of moister…I believe. Through each tree I’m able to see a trickle of blue sky, the very sky easily caught on fire by an ever-changing wind flow and cloud-making machine miles away—maybe underground.

I step out into the wonderment of the new sun only to listen to all that the wind has brought to this page—the song of the cardinal, a mocking bird, robin, a wild finch—a family of flying friends who have set down their weapons in order to eat. Then, from out of nowhere, not an invitation sent or a letter to explain, my view is locked onto a passer-by…the endless flight of a hawk…I believe, but for what reason?