Postaday – Frame of Mind
A willowy woman of small stature sitting atop a mountain with a straight back, her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knee, palms up. Dressed in black yoga pants and a white mid-riff top, her long jet black hair is being blown by the gentle breeze, not too strong to disturb her repose and yet strong enough to whip her hair into disarray. She is facing her gaze, and around her is turbulence – the ominous tornado swirling in the distant. With her eyes closed, her face reveals a calm in stark contrast. Her posture in silent resistance to the impending storm, engendering a welcoming stillness. The soft set of her mouth belies the certainty that all is well.
The mountain top on which she sits is rocky, with tufts of grass weed brown and weary interspersed, not a soft space to be seen. Nowhere to lay down, to curl up to rest. In the distance, there is the dark shadow of more peaks, more challenges.
Harsh and forbidding, the grey landscape is nevertheless familiar. In that familiarity is the feeling of safety and security, for she knows she can, as she had before, withstand the tornado arriving. For it too will depart, leaving her yet again resolute, stronger in the knowledge of greater overcoming.
A painting of black hues…