Words are born in my life regularly and molded genuinely, lit up from a spirit of desiring deep connection. Projects take on a life of their own, coaxing me to follow their lead as I continue putting one foot in front of the other. With this hope, I believe my baby steps will eventually cover a mile and climb a mountain.
Without any promise of success at the peak, peace surrounds my every move as I relax into the rhythm of daily work accepting that the vision at the summit may only be seen by me and a few companions who travel along with me.
The end-point is not always the goal. And in the case of creative development, it is even more clear that the journey only refines the goal. Yet hope reaches out for all of us with it’s supportive caress, even if we have not yet arrived.
Joys of life are often discovered in today’s moments without eyes on tomorrow or our hearts being lost in the struggles of yesterday. Take notice of what gives you hope as it surrounds you. Let it guide your steps forward. And when you think you’ve arrived, contentedly accept there is always a next leg in the journey.
It exists in all of us, whether initially a flicker or a flame, creativity eventually asks for engagement. Art is born not only in painful moments of life’s unexpected and uncontrollable events, but also in the peaceful serene entrance of morning when an invitation is presented to begin a new day with the most playful of heart.
My wish to capture the sunrise this morning as a photograph was not granted as I was traveling on the highway. I could only gape at its beauty and imbed the picture in my memory. Difficult as it was to keep my attention on the road, mesmerized by the half crescent shape of the bright orange globe peeking out from the horizon, I turned my thoughts to the inspiration from nature once again.
Further down the road where the sun’s rays had not yet touched, a heavy ethereal mist was floating above the red river and evoked my fantastical imagination of a world where mystical delights swirl around each and every one of us playfully invoking a powerful urge and desire to create art from the inspiration of tiny water droplets suspended in air.
For me, the mist represents a lightness of heart that floats above the harsh realities of a mundane existence or the senseless casualties of loved ones. As with atmospheric changes, the heaviness of life can be transformed into featherlight peace. Once again my sense of purpose has been reestablished and confirmed.
As I was elevated from a mechanical state of tending to daily cares to one of sublime happiness, a magical gift was received again from above. A place created by a societal and collective imagination, but also quite possibly a place revealed to us in tiny glimpses of unimagined beauty upon daybreak in nature’s masterpieces.
Appreciation of these slivers of magnificence can fan and fuel the burning desire to bring forth our own creative beauty deepening our relationship with the creator of all.
“Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to your heart, it knows.” Native American Proverb
Doing nothing, sitting still, yet still listening.
The deafening sound of silence could drive some mad, and yet to others it is the foundation of reconstruction.In the quiet, you may actually hear the humming of your brain.
There are times, I just sit mesmerized while allowing my eyes to scour the room stopping at each window to gaze upon a color fusion filtering through the panes. The subtle background noises blend into a cohesive white noise below volume one qualifying a nearly silent state.
And here is where the peaceful calm washes over my overexertion of the day.As I sit in the space of uninterrupted quiet, I find the time to hear what matters.Lessons of the heart actively yearning to find me receptive, untethered by the bustling activities of motion bound by the restrictions of time.
What I need to learn is not always what I want to hear.Yet, I acquiesce to the silent message as it finds a path directly to my heart.
At that moment when a search for explanations begins, the untainted silence is shattered.