|Frye Measure Mill, NH|
This morning, I came across some journal writings. While I prefer hand-writing them, there are times when my book isn't with me and I resort to computer entries. One file, 105 pages long, was from 1993 when I still had Creative NeedleArts and would write at work after everyone left. It was password protected and I had a moment of panic - that was nineteen years ago! I had a universal password then and I tried it - I'm in.
Some things apparently don't change. My laments are pretty much the same. That doesn't mean I haven't moved forward. It just means that my creative concerns have a fallback reason for being. Time and a plethora of ideas.
I constantly have ideas crowding my brain about other things to design and get into.... I am driven (but why?) to create new ideas; I'm just frustrated by the restrictions of time. I keep pushing the parameters of time.
I can guarantee that I have sung this song many times over the years. My interests are expansive; my ideas for paintings, writing and needlework are like a fountain which never turns off. I read voraciously. I have messy closets. I desperately need to have a yard sale. My art supplies are ordered, though, so my priorities are straight in one respect.
It occurs to me that a creative mind can be one's bane of existence as well as its blessing.
Have I finally reached the point in my life when I accept the activity in my head, knowing I cannot act on all of it? Writing down notes and ideas keeps them from disappearing in the crowd. I can get them back to the top of the pile anytime I want.
Relishing my varied interests is delectable. Worrying over the lack of time to explore them all isn't. Today I immerse myself in the ones on the top of my pile.