Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Create a Morphosis

I've been thinking a lot about creating a morphosis.  Big, scary, hairy change. The other night this transformed creature made it's way to my screen door.  I flicked it off (gently and lovingly of course) and then when I went outside I noticed that it had flown back onto the screen.

Moth on my screen door lookin' at me

It's a reminder. It's persistent. Tenacious.
A little flicking away only makes it wink and smile.
It won't be silenced.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Art can change you

Art can change you.  Beauty creates a shift.  Can bring you to your knees if the mood is right and the light hits the pavement just so. 

Art is changing me in a way I never suspected.  Snuck up on me and threw a bag over my head, confusing everything when the path was already dark and murky.  Painting kicked me out of my head where words bounce around like frantic jumping jacks colliding and vying for my attention.  Making images quiets them.

Pure imagination, happening before me without my permission or consent.  I just step out of the way.  I'm not skilled with a brush, haven't painted other than in school, and yet the things I'm learning about creativity herself.  How she whispers and guides, "Blue here", "try polka dots", "I like circles, more circles.  Wind the brush around like dancing."  But bigger lessons emerge that are guiding me like a muse.  Leading me down paths strangely forgotten.

As a child I wanted to be an artist.  I used to sell pictures door-to-door to my neighbors.  25 cents for the really good ones.  5 cents for the so-soes.  But I never stood out in art class.  Ted Skabinski did.  Instead, I leaned into writing, head down, filling endless notebooks with childhood angst that would be my salvation later on.

Now here is what has happened over the last few months, since I've discovered this intuitive form of painting.  Creativity has shown herself to me and for some reason I can't quiet her.  She's rattling me daily.  Shaking me awake.

Screaming from the inside at times.

I'm not really sure the path she's sending me on, but I know it's going to be very, very different from where I've been.

And I can't wait.

Saturday, May 26, 2012


The peonies are bursting this week. Gigantic explosions of color. 

See that little bud in the middle?  That's me. 

Although not as spectacular as Nature herself, here's my version:

I liked it so much, I'm using it as my background


I'm on the verge of a huge shift.  I can't name it or see it clearly yet but I feel it, roiling beneath the surface.  Incubating.  A tiny fetus at the moment, but growing with a life all it's own.
At times it's maddening and I am desperately impatient.
I want to know.
I want to plan.
I want to see it before it's ready.
I want the outcome before I begin.  I want it all figured out and if it could come nicely wrapped, without hurdles or difficulties of any sort, I would gladly receive it too.

I keep thinking that to move forward I have to have it all figured out ahead of time and then I could show others the way.  Teach what I've learned from my experience. But the truth is, I don't know the way and I'm going anyway.  Running my fingers along unfamiliar walls lined with hopeful buckets of flowers and the voices of helpful strangers.  If sharing can help someone else to find their own path, then so much the better.

It's been a long time coming but here is what I know so far.  Each day I face the blank page.  I watch, I do things that scare the crap out of me and I listen.  Each day building courage, exploring ideas and taking teeny steps toward freedom.