The time comes when one must begin - even when feeling resistance,
uncertainty, lack of clarity - one simply must begin.
For that to happen, I know by now, means I must go to the studio and do something.
I know I've written about this before here. It almost doesn't matter what I do, but
I must go and know that I am easing into something... I tell myself I can explore,
write, look at books, arrange things on shelves, sit and drink tea... wait.
This is my strategy and it works. Eventually I notice something, like a whisper, as
little by little my work speaks to me, and I begin.
month out, I'd know where to be when. But there is an organic ebb and flow to my
art making as it is just one thread in a rich tapestry that is my work. Each thread contributes to the colorful whole, and there is cross-pollination - singing inspires a
story, teaching inspires a painting, painting inspires a ritual, a walk inspires me to write. The stewarding of the forest and the growing of flowers provides the wind and the insects who, of course, are the main cross-pollinators.
So I took myself to the studio, journal in hand, to begin. I swept fallen flower
petals from the floor, re-arranged my inspiration shelves, looked at books and
images pinned to boards. I sat and wrote in my lovely journal by Oberon Design
- a gift to myself at Christmas that I have been coveting for years. I'm glad I
waited a few years as they now make a cover sized for Moleskins journals that
suits me perfectly.
I spent a moment to admire the variation of zipper patterns on shells,
and to listen to the conversations between things and in the wind.
One day I started to draw. I played with spirals in atmospheres/
I don't much like the results, but something was learned,
and, most importantly, a dialog has begun.
Late one afternoon, I returned from the studio, to discover that a pair
of juncos made a spiral piece of their own, much too close to the front
door. I wasn't sure what to do about this as they were rather
alarmed when I opened the door. After much delibration,
and seeing that the basket was hanging by a thread, I quickly
tied a new string loop and hung the basket higher and away from
the door a tiny bit. But they haven't been back. Its late
anyway, maybe they were just practicing their weaving?
Pollen is bursting out of the helenium, and plenty of
bugs are working hard to spread the bounty around.
Though beautiful outside, last week was so hot that niether of us
here - the two legged or the four legged - got much done except to find
the places outside with the most shade and air movement for napping. We're
both enjoying the cooler days now, but tomorrow I'll be doing a rain
dance to attract the thunderstorms which are forecast to be traveling about.
Monday update: Rain last night throughout the night! More predicted here
and there in the week. We need it. I guess I did a rain dance in my sleep,
along with many others.