A few months ago I had a really high fever and ended up at Color Me Mine.

It was irresponsible of me to show up with the fever, but my friend was visiting and this was my last opportunity to see her before she left.

In my fever-ridden haze, I didn’t really pay attention to the colors of the glazes I used (they look different after firing) and ended up with a bright neon yellow-green bowl (think safety vest neon).

The bowl has my usual netted hibiscus on the side, and is actually meant for a dog (I only learned that it is a dog bowl once I brought it home - oops!).

Anyway, I’ve been eating out of this bowl and it led me to this painting - the last time I was at the art store I felt compelled to buy a tube of safety vest yellow-green and drench my canvas in it.

When I’m making a painting, the whole world will start to look like the painting. I’ll see reflections of it everywhere. Pink orange gradients in the flowers on my walk to the grocery store. Ripples in the water pouring out of the fire hydrant. Reoccurring circles formed in the way people move through a space.

I know it’s possible the world already looked like the painting before I noticed it. But, I keep being reminded of the cyclical nature of time. It presents itself to me like a flower, one point of potent instigation that stretches outward, with a depth of layers below. Buds that have died and will replenish soil that has seen many seasons. The same things taking a different form, over and over again.

Last week I sat at a restaurant I had sat at five years ago in a city I didn’t live in then but do now. I sat at the same chair on the same table and took a picture against the same backdrop with a very different group of people. Both times I didn’t make the plans. I just showed up.

Right before that I met somebody who looked like someone I used to know. When I asked them where they lived, it was in the same neighborhood on the same street. 

I could argue that every synchronicity has a logical explanation. 

But every few years I get to look back and see the complete picture, and I see all these confusing instances and grievances come together with such precision, like gears turning inside a clock. I see it all make sense and it feels too magical to just be logical.