Magic of number 9
9 square paintings to make a square, 9 poems came quickly, poems that found a dialogue to respond to Ms Bruggemann’s 9 watercolours,
as though determined long ago to be acknowledged, given salutations,living images, beautiful, intimate green world, scenes remembered in the seasons along the way.
I was taken in by what she conjured, and responded with poetry:
through a portal the paintings created, the poems came to me.
Curious I wanted to learn the significance of the number 9. Which I am offering here:
Number 9 is the number of Universal love, eternity, faith, Universal Spiritual Laws, the concept of karma, spiritual enlightenment, spiritual awakening, service to humanity, humanitarianism and the humanitarian, lightworking and lightworkers, leading by positive example, philanthropy and the philanthropist, charity,
Out Beyond There Is A Field
I meet You There….
This kind of meadow requires reverence
our Iroquois guide held us back
till we saw the myriad life there bobbing
and dancing in the warm illumined sunshine
said there are nature spirits here
like the pollen you don’t see
nourish the honey bee
At the end of the branch, perhaps
only one flower will bloom. Stay a while
there is promise here
in all that you are looking for
most subtle magic gloriously present
Have you seen angels like these
partially hidden in the buttercup flames
move the leaves gentle as breeze
silence alive in you, a quiet joy in watching.
Look up in the trees as light filters through
and now, turning your arms outstretched
loose yourself, rise and be carried off
to whispers and summer seduction
in the sheltering trees
I see storms and chaos
churning rain in the groaning
and peace a plenty imagining things.
Sometimes there is inexplicable weeping
ideas once tenable become altogether obsolete
between day and night there is reconciliation
storm clouds become summer rain.
I would walk here on a summer day
as evening painted brilliant colors on what
moments ago seemed a static green. Is not transformation what we seek out in our lives
we can rest here a while, and listen.
I was lost in the mystery of what opened
before me, grasses green as fire,
cobalt outcroppings screened behind wild foliage
suggestions of something surmised
in drifting clouds.
this atmosphere holds a secret we wish to enter.
And there she is in lavender,
humble, some might call a weed flower
but to me regal as a queen
come upon by chance.
Her golden eyes gaze up, silent
to who might pass her by.
Winter hush draped over
in new snow. A time when the green world
has gone into it's sleepy house.
Spring, serenely confident, sleeps a while longer
will emerge in perfect form to break some heart.
The river too, hidden beneath snow covered ice
flows over its rocky bed in perpetual song.
The series of 9 paintings by Brigitte Brüggemann
watercolor on aqua-cradle board 8"x8"x2"