Tag: cosmic

Cosmic Conduit

From childhood, the red clay of Alabama has been more than dusty earth beneath my feet — it’s been companion, witness, keeper, and quiet participant in this life’s southern screenplay. Those deep, iron-rich hues tell tales far older than roads, houses, or city outlines. This clay, saturated by millennia, holds within it the memory of those who walked, worked, sweated, prayed, and bled on it. I recall a professor once telling me, “This Alabama red clay is rich with the blood of your ancestors.” It was then that I began to understand — this soil is not just ruddy dirt; it is charged matter, a living archive.

In the age old folk wisdom of the South, particularly in the African American tradition, earth is not a passive object or substance. Clay and soil have long been used as vessels for intention — for grounding, for protection, for healing, cleansing, and for calling forth what is unseen. The red clay in particular, with its rich iron content, acts almost like a spiritual conductor, transmitting energy between the seen and unseen worlds. It anchors prayers, catches tears, and carries whispers into the earth’s core. But its power extends beyond the personal or mystical — it is cosmic. Science teaches us that the same iron oxide that reddens Alabama clay also exists in places like Morocco, Tehran, Nigeria, Kenya, and yes on the surface of Mars, giving the planet its scarlet glow. There’s something poetic in that: this humble dirt is a terrestrial mirror of a celestial body, connecting us to the wider universe. How we walk should not be common because what we walk upon is not ordinary — it is stardust, drawn down to earth, thickened and spread by time and memory.

This allows me to weave this red clay into my work not as a symbol of something superstitious, but as a tangible metaphor for what binds us all: dust to dust, earth to star, ascendant to descendant. It’s a reminder that our faith traditions, though varied, often share this same foundational truth — that life is cyclical, that spirit moves through matter, and that the earth itself is a key element in the divine story. I have come to see red clay as a sacred material. It quietly affirms what so many faiths already teach — that we are intimately connected to both the earth and the heavens. We are tethered to power. May each step we take upon this hallowed ground remind us of our origin story, our resilience, our rootedness, and our inevitable rising.

Generating Light

Some time ago, I traveled to see a Thornton Dial art exhibit. Although Thornton Dial has transitioned, his work lives on as a beacon of his presence here on the planet. As a fellow Alabama artist, I am inspired by his journey. Included on the panel discussion was Lonnie Holley, another southern artist I deeply admire. It’s very important for me and my practice to seek out those whose work/life have shaped my creative journey and pushed my vision forward. As I stepped up in line and began to speak with Lonnie, I noticed another young man waiting eagerly. Lonnie continued on and conversed with me longer than any of the others before. Having been in the position of one who has stood in the space of waiting and of greeting, I wanted to be respectful of both positions.

Not wanting to take up much more than my share of his time, I decided to step back and give the waiting young man his turn. He stepped up directly to me still smiling. With an animated look of controlled excitement on his face he said, reaching out his hand, “I was waiting to to meet you.” I was a bit surprised to say the least. It felt like time paused for a moment. I had come to seek wisdom and inspiration from someone I looked up to, only to be reminded that I too, am a light for someone else.

The moment revealed to me an ever present truth: we are all torches in someone’s darkness, a lamp in another’s searching, or simple a light along their pathway. While we are busy seeking illumination to guide our own path, we are generating light that illuminates the paths of others. It’s humbling to think about the ripple effect of our actions. Every brushstroke, every step forward or back, every story we tell holds the potential to inspire someone we may never meet. Whether you’re an artist, a teacher, a parent, or simply a person striving to grow, your journey is leaving trails of light for others to follow.

I believe this is what creativity and ultimately humanity are about—connection. We are a collective constellation, each star adding brilliance to the night sky. The world doesn’t just need one blazing sun; it needs the combined glow of every light bearer sharing their radiance. Keep shining, I say. Keep creating. Keep living authentically or at least pushing toward it. You never know who might be waiting to meet you, or who might already be watching and drawing strength from your light. We are all part of this dynamic, magnanimous, cosmic exchange of inspiration. When we create and share, we generate light—not just for ourselves, but for a world so in need of it.