Inspired

One of my driving forces is looking for inspiration. I see it in words spilled upon the page, in watching the birds, in the splash of paint on canvas, in the rust of iron on the pier, in the way the clouds move across the face of the moon on a windy night. Subconsciously I look for it all around me. The creative force that cannot be turned off at will, but that can, upon occasion go into hibernation, always looking at the world without and within for the next thing that ignites it's spark. My task is simply to be open. I love the surprise when it comes to me from some obscure place or event. Hoping that in the unfolding of your day you find an unexpected source of inspiration.

Hello . . . is anybody there?

Creakkkkly the door opens, (cough, cough!! as the dust goes up my nose!), I slowly open the door to my little place here. I look inside to find dust has settled on every flat surface. The windows are dirty. The sun is trying to come in and light the corners of the room with it's yellow warmth once again. When I last closed the door to this little art room in the back, I did not anticipate I would have been gone this long. My going was a necessary journey. I needed some time away. A time of not sharing every little thing going on. A time to create art just for me. A time to reflect on where I was and where I wanted to go. I return standing better on my feet when I am on the ground. I return more comfortable in my flying wings when I am skybound. The art chair feels familiar, the contours of my body still embedded in it. I have been anticipating my return here with hopefulness. I always knew I would come back here. I am not disappointed.