sprouts

In the kitchen, I stand with my hands in the sink, rinsing seeds, tending sprouts. There is a freshness that I love — a smell, a brightness, a burst of energy — a willingness to be transformed. I run a little more water over them, shake the jar to drain it, watch the tiny seeds slide down the sides of the glass, and place it back on the ledge where it soaks up the sun. The sprouts are at the little-tail-peeking-out-of-the-ball stage, babies really, so near the beginning of their new journey. With my hands still wet, I wonder if I’m so different from those little specks of green. Am I not also a bright ball of energy, soaking up nourishment, and bursting into the world in a brave new form?

— heidi kalyani, 2019 
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line