There is a poetess, a caregiver, a sensitive with a large and compassionate heart that lives up in the cold, faraway kingdom of Alaska: mrs. sarah ott.
It's hard to describe Sarah, except to say that every time I read something she has written, I am touched and amazed by her wisdom, her ability to look at life through a very real, yet also very magical, prism.
Here is an excerpt from the post I just read.
in its raw, frazzled state, genius abounds and so in its natural wild, this creature transforms canvas to art. puts its stamp on life that says: THIS IS WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. and we the normal, stand before it in pencil skirts and legal pads, criticizing a level of genius we know nothing about. (wrtten off simply, insanity) in museums across the globe, we buy framed complicated concepts and hang them on our walls so that we appear more genuine and sophisticated.
Sarah's post today brings back memories of a troubled, brilliant soul I once knew and makes me realize that the things we cling to, what we sometimes hold most dear in our "normal" world, is often so shallow, without roots. She also makes me think about the people that help others so selflessly, with open eyes and willing hearts. Thank you, Sarah, for being one of those angels in the world.
(Perhaps I have these thoughts now as everyone in our office scurries to and fro to build penthouses and ski chalets for multi-millionares who will complain about the color of the Cape Walnut veneer being a shade off, that the imported Italian marble is just a bit dull, while looking for the perfect piece of some madman's art [his psyche] to hang above their meticulously crafted custom fireplaces.)
I took that photo last night on a walk down Haight Street.