Updated: Feb 16, 2019
Do you remember quiet? A time when your senses were not constantly assaulted by the noise of traffic outside your window or the television blaring more and more and more bad news?
Do you remember the sound of your footsteps in the grass? A bird's chatter in a nearby tree? The wind rustling the pine needles?
Do you remember the sound of thunder rolling in the distance, and the stillness in the air as a summer storm approached?
Do you remember the prickly feel of a blackberry bush? The dense scent of the pungent earth? The warmth of the summer sun on your arms?
Do you remember what it was like to have space in your head to just...think? Not to plan, or worry, or obsess. Just to think thoughts, like what do clouds taste like? What is an ant's favorite color? Do dogs like dog food? Why does Grandma's house smell like that?
Lately I have been all about creating space. Space in my day for solitude. Space in my heart for wonder. Space in my home where I can sit, think and create. It's all a process. It all takes time. I've spent the last 40+ years filling every available space in my heart, head and home with stuff.
completely unnecessary small appliances
and ALL the detritus of adulthood.
Extracting the refuse while preserving the art is a tedious, painstaking process. It's coming along though. Slowly, as I sift through the heaps, I find the treasures. I am finding my voice. I am finding my process. Best of all, I am finding joy. This space where I can create, it brings me joy. It is where I connect with one facet of my truest self - the artist.
I haven't fully uncovered her yet, but it's exciting to know she's in there somewhere.