I recently painted an image of large and small swallows flying around a plum branch full of blossoms. I studied how to paint both the swallows and the blossoms in a book on Chinese Ink Painting. I usually create part of the image from life, but in this case, both parts were from a lesson. The colors also were borrowed, from a paint program on my computer. Nevertheless, after completing the image I was inspired to write a poem about it. The lesson about setting your own ego or desire to be in full color aside to support someone else is one that I have been learning recently.

Seeing Colors
“The plum blossoms glow
and seem to have a life of their own.”
said Young Swallow to his mother.
“Their colors are wonderful.”

“Yes they are. “responded Mother Swallow,
“now tell the blossoms what you see in them.”

Young Swallow faced the blossoms and said,
“I love your light violet base
and your bright red and yellow dots”
“and your pink background is an exciting contrast”

He turned back to his mother and asked,
“I wonder, though, when I praise their beauty,
why do my colors fade?
Why don’t my colors shine brightly as well?”

“You are learning to think and see beyond yourself.” replied Mother Swallow,
You have radiant colors, and you always will,
but when you focus on honoring others,
letting them know how wonderful they are,
or sharing how their beauty has touched your life,
you become white and something special happens.

Young swallow considered his mother’s riddle, and responded,
“When we become white, our contrast actually makes the colors in others shine brighter, right?”

Mother Swallow smiled and nodded, proud that her son was becoming so kind and wise.

Michael Corob 6/9/2015

Cascading Fountain

We are fish asleep at the dull murky ocean bottom,
and are disturbed by a horrible something!
A strong force pushes us upward.
Instinctively we flip our fins above us for protection.
Now we are completely out of the water, how terrifying!
Accepting and adapting to the change,
we take a deep breath of air,
and we are transformed.
We are human, curled up in a ball in a shell.
We feel the solid bottom of the shell, and pull ourselves up to stand tall.
We see a golden fruit above us, and we reach for it.
Rather than pulling it down,
we find that we must hold it up.
It is heavy, and water cascades on our face and shoulders blurs our vision.
Through the shower we see that the water
comes out of the top of the fruit.
It is beautiful.
We realize that that this water moves through us,
that we are part of a vessel for a greater force,
the same one that disturbed our sleep.
Our load is lightened, and a pleasure to hold,
and we are transformed.
Understanding and living our purpose, we are birds,
model beings inspiring others by our graceful flight.

Michael Corob 4/8/2015

Last Sunday after church I sat down with a older man, strong in mind, but with ailing health. He told me that it was his 85th birthday. I pulled out from my bag a picture of my valentine painting flowers. I wrote him a happy birthday card with the message, “You are not 85 years old, you are 85 years strong, and your strength is an inspiration to Carrie and I every time we see you.” His smile showed me how much he appreciated me taking the opportunity. It reminded me of a quote I saw at my Chiropractor’s office, “Learn to listen, sometimes opportunity knocks softly.” I remembered a painting that I made a few months ago of two birds playing horns, and this story came to me all at once.

“Why should we blow these horns?” asked the young blue bird to his father, “I can sing and make pretty notes easily.”

“When we find opportunities, we should take them,”  responded his father. “Just blow into it and I will explain.”                                    

The son blew softly into long thin horn on the branch in front of him. He did not hear a song, so he blew harder, and still hearing no sound, he blew a third time.

The father could see that his son was getting frustrated, and that his window of opportunity for learning was slowly closing.

“Listen when I blow, ” instructed the father, as he blew lightly into the golden trumpet before him.

“Ah, I don’t hear anything Dad,” said the son, “I think you are just making this all up.”

“Watch the leaves move, and listen for any changes around me as I blow,” the father said softly.

When the father blew his horn a second time, the son could see leaves sway, petals of a flower turn slightly in their direction,  and a butterfly open his wings and gently take off.

“You see, Son, we never know exactly how our actions, or in this case, our horn blowing, will have an effect on other living things” He said, “but we must learn to trust the process, and blow when we come across opportunities.”

The son tilted his head and said, “I think that you are not really talking about blowing real horns, but taking actions to be kind and helpful when we get the chance.”

“I couldn’t have said it any better,” said the father, “Hearing you say that is music to my ears.”

The son smiled, blew into his horn again, then opened his wings to find new opportunities.

My wife and I recently lead a session of Karaoke at our church. We have been singing “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher for over 30 years, so of course we sang it there.  I was looking through my images to  finish, and I came across this one. Today I added the pastel background. It seems that there is something special right between the two birds. This lead me to start to write about a conversation between the birds, and well, you can see where it ended up. In case you are not familiar with the Carpenters, a brother and sister team from the 1970’s, one of their biggest hits was “Close to You”.

That Song Again

“ I hear that silly song again,” said the red bird, “you know, about birds suddenly appearing when you are near.”

“Yeh, I get this urge to be close to you.” added the blue bird. “Do you get the same feeling?”

The red bird did in fact feel the same way, but was guarded in allowing the blue bird to come too close. “I’m not sure,” she said, although her heart was beating quickly and her eyes were becoming glazed. “Tell you what,” she whispered, “Come a little closer and I will see if I get the feeling” She wanted to be in control, and be able to pull herself away if she needed too.

The blue bird came forward a few inches, and flapped his wings to keep himself fluttering in the air. ‘Wwwwwhell, what do you think?” he asked.

The red bird could hardly keep her claws on the branch beneath her. She felt a strong magnet pulling her body toward the blue bird. “Oh, okay you can come a little closer.” She responded, “Let’s not kiss just yet.” she added. Oh my goodness, she thought, why did I say that?

The blue bird’s heart pounded and his whole body shook. He began to sing notes he had never thought of, and he moved to within an inch of the red bird’s dark black beak. She too sang fluttering notes. Their notes blended together in the small space between their beaks, and a soft glow filled the room outside their cage.

” It’s funny how the love birds can understand the words to this song and sing along,” said the young man.

“Maybe they can feel our love as we sing, and want to join us.” said the young woman as she picked up the song sheet to choose another karaoke song for them to sing together.

Not So Fast

Hurry, we need to get there before everyone else!
If we wait too long, it will all be gone!
Not so fast.

We need to follow the leader!
He knows where he is going!
Not so fast.

We need to fly as high as we can!
Birds are meant to touch the sky!
Not so fast.

Is “Not so fast” all you can say?
I can say take things slow. Consider the best course. Follow your own heart.
There is lots of wonders near the ground. Enjoy today, right here, right now,
or fly as high as you can reach, as fast as your wings can take you,
or as far as you have dreamed.

Michael Corob 7/6/2014

This is one of the story paintings that I will include in my upcoming book, Story Paintings Joining Hearts. I am in the process of selecting 18 sets of stories and paintings from over 60 that I have created since 2007, when I published my last set.

The following is my first draft of the introduction to the book. Your comments, either in comments section, or via e-mail at youani@aol.com, are appreciated.

Hurry, we need to get there before everyone else!
If we wait too long, it will all be gone!
Not so fast.

We need to follow the leader!
He knows where he is going!
Not so fast.

We need to fly as high as we can!
Birds are meant to touch the sky!
Not so fast.

As the story continues, the young bird realizes and expresses that there is plenty for everyone, that he can set his own course, and that he can reach as high or as low as he desires.
The caring grandfather reading the story- painting with his granddaughter discusses the bird’s challenges. The child imagines what it would be like to be the bird, and shares how she would be afraid of the other birds. The grandfather remembers a time when he resisted following the leader, then tells the story and what he learned from the experience. The activity becomes a happy conversation, and two hearts are joined. When the 20 minute experience is over, both the child and the grandparent will have gained new insight, and will leave with a more positive outlook.

This is the power of a story and a kind storyteller.
This book is a full of stories, images and suggestions for enthusiastic, but not so confident older story tellers to use to help young people with challenges to appreciate nature, to develop self-esteem and to gain confidence in creative expression.
Welcome to Story Paintings Joining Hearts.

I am sure that you will enjoy the adventure.

Michael Corob

In my quest to understand beauty, I was reminded of the quote expressing that beauty is very subjective and determined by the response from the viewer. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I feel that beauty is a living, breathing growing thing. Here is my poem that expresses this. I paired it with a close up photo of a freesia flower that bloomed in my garden. Many people have responded, “Oh, how beautiful” when they viewed the simple print.

Beauty is spark that leaps from the soul of the creator,
See it.
an idea formed in the mind of the artist,
Conceive it.
a shape molded in the hands of the craftsman,
Refine it.
a gift expressed from the heart of the giver,
Share it.
and a treasure beheld in the eyes of the receiver.
Love it.

Here is a story that I am making into a Toastmasters speech.

The Orange Tree and the Giver
“Pick me, Pick me,” called the oranges on my neighbor’s tree.
Bigger than softballs, more orange than a frozen Creamsicle, they were tempting.
What if someone sees me, what if I ask and he says no, and views me as a beggar?
I remembered two famous quotes, “Tis better to give than to receive”, and
\“Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”
They seemed like they were from wise people. What should I do?
They called again to remind me how sweet real orange tree oranges are.

I knocked on the door, then waited, then rang the doorbell.
An elderly man, thin, white, old, maybe 80,
stared at me with a look that demanded , “What do you want?”
“Mmmy name is Mike, and I live around the corner from you” I stammered,
“and I am wondering if I can have two of the beautiful oranges on your tree?”
He thought for a moment, then looked me over, then responded with a half smile,
“Sure, help yourself.”
I ran home for a bag, eager to pick off my reward.
I picked half a dozen, some high, some low, a few with leaves attached,
so I could paint pictures to honor them and honor the giver.
I painted pictures of them with little birds flying around them, admiring their beauty.
I made a thank you card and left it for him, and hope to see him again.

So here I am, happy with my oranges, happy to help someone be generous,
and happy to share the man’s wealth with you in words and images
and slices from oranges bigger  than softballs,
and sweeter than frozen Creamsicles.

I am happy to start the new year off by creating a blog for my stories and paintings. I look forward to learning about how to best use this tool to share. Please be patient with me. Your comments are always appreciated.

Here is my first poem; In Balance

In Balance
Cherry blossoms flutter in the wind,
and young swallows fly in graceful circles around them.
I wonder why.
Why are the blossoms so delicate and pretty,
and why do the swallows choose this route?

Maybe the swallows enjoy touching the pink flowers
and find pleasure in making patterns in the air.
Maybe cherry blossoms are nature’s fireworks:
reminders of how much beauty is in the present moment.

The little swallows in my painting
seem to move quickly around and off the page
while the blossoms float gracefully in the breeze.

Maybe that is the balance:
being fully alive and in motion
while remaining present to the wonders
of where we are right here and now.

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