A favorite professor of anthropology, Dr. Evelyn Montgomery, often lectured our class in Man and the Supernatural on a theory she apparently clutched close to the core of her own understanding of humanity. Dr. Montgomery suggested that in all that striving to better their hairy, half-naked selves into the supremacy of modern man, our ambitious and hardy ancestors gradually forfeited something immeasurable but absolutely vital to our well-being: our spiritual umbilical to nature.
 
For lack of a scientific term, she called this elusive and now-missing spiritual appendage a sixth sense, a connectedness to the earth that once encompassed both knowledge and intuition in a protective, portable chassis planted deep within each of us.

This favorite prof of mine claimed humanity's design includes an intrinsic connection to nature. Over millions of years of massing intellectual lore, she theorized that man allowed one of homo sapiens' most precious traits to atrophy. That leaves sight, sound, touch, smell, taste. Those bold senses we've got down pat. We email and twitter and blog. We download our favorite tunes, IM, leave voice mail. We obsess over the darkness or lightness of our third cup of coffee before nine, proclaim our Cabernet has dark chocolate undertones, our Chardonnay hints at grapefruit. We wear leather and silk and sumptuous velvet that begs to be stroked as we dance the night away under faceted crystal globes that spin and sparkle. It's not a bad life at all.

Okay. So we aren't so good anymore at feeling the eyes of a mountain lion follow us on our morning hike, at sensing an earthquake before picture frames crash to the floor. We're even less adept at intuiting our neighbor's silent pain, at living our lives in moderation, at being still and knowing our God, and thus, ourselves.

We escape to nature now. We even call our getaways "escapes" and we go to places we can build fires with twigs and perhaps just a cheat of lighter fluid when no one's looking.  We fill our living and working spaces with tropical plants and pump-driven waterfalls. Consciously or unconsciously, we seek to regain that which we've lost.

You'd think that life in a small town in the mountains would satisfy the missing sense for those of us lucky enough to enjoy such a life. But small town life is busier. We fill our days with activities. Meetings. Clubs. Lectures. Dinners. Benefit auctions and pot luck luncheons. Volunteer-ism rules a small town, where saying "NO" can mean something doesn't get done because there aren't enough willing hands to go around. Good causes, good people, worthwhile activities. But it's easy to get ensnared in a web of busy-ness. And I believe that along with living in cozy homes and not having to forage for our own food, its that busy-ness that disconnects whatever remains of our sixth sense. Even we must get away sometimes, and, we do. Jim and I take frequent drives, and our front door is the scenic loop through the Davis Mountains of far West Texas. We hike almost daily. (Today, we saw a new spider web spun between rocks on the ground. How do they do that?) But even that isn't enough.

I would add to Dr. Montgomery's premise. I think to be whole, we have to regularly recognize and experience silence. I believe silence reconnects us. Silence implies stillness. Introspection. Awareness. Appreciation. Intuition and Knowledge enter our spirits through silent corridors. I get as busy as the next person, but I've hiked some of those corridors, even flown through some. So I ask you to take five minutes from your busy day (do it now, if you can, or return for an escape later). Walk into this painting of the natural world south of Marfa, Texas. Study the mantle of cloud that cloaks the landscape in peace. Be still and listen to what nature says to you. Listen with that buried sixth sense if you can. But for me, silence is also brilliantly colored.



THE COLORS OF SILENCE 
ranchland south of Marfa, Texas

 a 24" x 36" oil on archival gesso panel by Lindy C Severns 2009
available at Midland Gallery,  Midland, TX   $5800 (plus framing) contact the gallery for final pricing
for an enlarged image, go to my website oldspanishtrailstudio.com