The Art of Falling

In the Temple garden, the leaves are falling. Each one turning, gliding, and coming to the earth without resistance. Their descent is quiet, unhurried, and complete.

In my art, I'm striving to convey this same truth. Falling is not failing, but a form of fulfillment.

Falling reveals the essence of the transience of all things. We mark autumn as a season of change, yet everything is always falling. Our bodies are aging, moments passing, our identities dissolving.

Each breath is both arrival and departure. As my brush moves, it traces this movement, the subtle line between becoming and disappearing.

You may have noticed that our modern world clings to progress, as though life were a ladder to climb rather than a river to flow with. But the art of falling is the art of release. The art of yielding to gravity, to time, to what is.

In the art of falling, there is nothing to perfect, no technique to master.

I’ve learned that to live in this way is to let life move through me, as air moves through trees. Falling, I return again and again to the flow that was never apart from me.