Flag Oracle #14: Serendipity, surrender, and sunsets
and why quilts don't wave in a gentle breeze
Hello friends,
We all live with expectations and definitions based on past experiences. When we encounter something new, our minds often search the memory bank and compare it to something we’ve already seen before. By failing to look deeply and discover the underlying essence of a new person or thing, we can miss out on the richness of life.
I’m as guilty of this form of judgment as anyone else, and I’ve also been a victim of others’ misconceptions or even dismissal of me or my work simply because I don’t fit whatever box exists inside their minds.
Today’s flags—and this whole flag project—are the result of me ignoring even my own expectations about what being an artist means or what an art project is supposed to look like. Let’s look at the cards.
Bright sunlight falls through the forest canopy, casting shadows on the Simplify flag as it hangs from a network of living and dead moss-covered branches. It’s difficult to bring the flag into focus with the dappled light from above against this busy background. Light and shadow, life and death all work together, falling where they may. As the day progresses, the shadows will change and the view will look different.
This card is a call to surrender attempts at control and let what happens be good enough. The Simplify flag reminds us how much easier it is to relax and focus on the present moment. If the light doesn’t shine on what we want, that’s OK; it will change soon enough. Everything is temporary, and ultimately moving in the direction of growth. Downed branches become homes for insects and woodpeckers. Shady areas offer homes for different plant species than the sunny areas.
Because there are areas in life where humans do have so much control, it’s easy to forget that we’re on a living planet that in many ways, controls us. Events like earthquakes and snowstorms are great reminders that we are just passengers on this rock orbiting the sun, not pilots.
While carrying the Fun Factory flag on a pole made from a branch in Cataract Canyon, I encountered a retirement-age couple at the waterfall overlook. The woman asked, “What’s your flag for?”
After I explained that it was for an art project, the man said, “It looks like a quilt.”
The flag fluttered on that breezy day in a way a quilt never could, but he might not have understood that a quilt’s weight would prevent it from doing so except in a strong wind. Quilts are typically made from two layers of fabric sandwiched around a layer of batting, while a flag is made by stitching single layers of fabric together with flat-felled seams.
“It’s definitely not a quilt,” I said, confident in having been recognized by his wife as a flag-bearer and not a quilt maker. When I reached the top of the hill and hung the flag from this tree, I delighted in how the sunlight shone through the back, highlighting leafy shadows. Quilts definitely don’t offer a translucent stained-glass effect.
In the Night position following Let Things Fall Where They May, Definitely Not A Quilt asks us not to get caught up in definitions of how we think things are supposed to look.
What if surrendering control births a new realm that’s beyond definition? Where have you misjudged the results of things ending up how they did? Where are you misjudging yourself or your activities? The Fun Factory flag is here to tell you that a playful approach helps you encounter new things—and even new parts of yourself—with less judgment.
Remember how open you were as a child before you formed all those boxes in your mind—when little girls could break into bears’ homes and eat their porridge, when pigs could build houses, or when a fairy godmother could magically appear to get a maid ready for the ball? Adults can experience the same magic by surrendering to serendipity.
An unexpected sunset lesson
Last weekend I went up to Bolinas Ridge for a sunset hike. I’ve discovered the ridge is quite the party spot for young people; dozens of couples and groups gather to watch the sun drop into the Pacific Ocean. On that evening, however, the most colorful skies appeared in the east. The sunset was so unremarkable that I didn’t take a picture.
On the walk back to my car, I passed a couple sticking their heads out of a pickup rooftop tent. They had parked the truck in a position that offered optimal sunset viewing from the tent’s opening. But earth’s beauty fell where it did that day, and they missed the pink skies because they had no view to the east.
If we can’t rely on the equation sunset = colorful skies to the west, we can instead rely on our curiosity and open mind to bring us where we need to go to see what we are only meant to see.
May you have a serendipitous week!
Love, Lee Ann
I'm definitely working on surrendering to what happens. It's such a challenge for me, but oh so worth it.
I like that you called yourself the "flag-bearer" a brilliant way to look at your art as a guide on a life journey or at a particular fork in the road. Makes me think of Hecate at the crossroads bearing torches, showing a direction to the traveler.