I ponder that this morning, as my grandmother's crystal bowl is now filled with slips of paper with written noticings of gratitude and joy. Chocolate balls wrapped in colorful foil are mixed among the pieces of paper, to add even more color, flavor, and temptation to peek before the eve of this night.
We will read them tonight, along with opening the gifts, which also, magically appeared. We seem to have quite the beautifully wrapped pile, as one did not end up replacing the other, but certainly augmented it.
I look forward to going back through the joys of my month.
I had not thought, when I suggested it, of the pieces of paper, of the moments of noticing, as art, but perhaps, they are. Perhaps, every moment I notice, we cherish, is Art.
I carve now on my inside walls, like cave art. I feel the bison roam and the horses dance. We are given imagination and memory to notice, integrate, honor, and hunt the beauty in our lives, and preserve it inside, like the cave of Lascaux, in France.