Perspective in Creation

Toulouse, France

Recently I read a post on A Certain Simplicity where Diana questioned the challenge of change and the driving force behind it.  Whether creative or situational, change is fraught with dips and valleys and can just as suddenly soar you over the top of known experience.  It got me to thinking about it from my perspective.

It is our creative self which strives for more and that won't change as long as we live and think. If Michelangelo was not driven to improve his creations, painting and sculpting again and again, chasing the elusive perfection he craved, would he have grown? Would he have been happier sitting back and contemplating what was done, looking no further? When he took pause, what were his thoughts? Reflection or progression? What of the others? Our creative inner workings build on what we do now and what we did in the past and we have an opportunity to savor the process. That doesn't stop our minds from looking at things from different angles, imagining subtle adjustments which will be filed for future use. It is the foundation for our discontent with things as they are. We are c-r-e-a-t-i-v-e. This is what we live for. It comes with the territory.

In some matters, yes, good is good enough. The glaze may be a little off but it gives us food for thought for next time. Imperfections and repairs may be obvious to others (we imagine) but are in fact virtually invisible in the scheme of things. They are what gives our lives character. A little roughness in our physical surroundings hurts no one and allows us a place to rest without feeling uptight. I love to garden. In the past ten years, I have learned that perfection has no place in a garden. Now I carry that inside and know that, while I 'should' paint that wall and 'should' fix the trim, it doesn't change the pleasures wrought within these walls. The same goes for my art. As Diana so aptly put it, I can relax. My mind whirs with ideas and I would be so grateful if I could pursue even a small portion of the projects in my mind's stash.  Regrettably, I don't have a patron to foot the bills. I pick my battles, let go and enjoy what is. It doesn't quiet my mind, but it gives me more pleasure in the process.

And isn't the process of living what matters most?

Metaphorically Speaking...

I have always felt that I have a pretty busy life filled with things that need to be completed, concerns which tax my heart and a wish list of pleasures which rumble around in my head unfulfilled.  There is some truth to that.  A really busy life, though?  Perhaps it is more a busy mind which wants to do more in a day that has just so many hours.

There is also the energy aspect.  I do not have the stamina I used to have.  I can remember days filled to the brim with activity and stimulation.  Now some of that stimulation just plain wears me out!  Doesn’t mean I stop craving it, it just means I need it in smaller doses so I can savor the experience.  One thing at a time is better for me now.

A milestone year approaches unlike any other.  My feet are nearing the edge of a precarious cliff.  The flower-strewn meadow is behind me. Blades of bright green grass bend under my feet and I can feel their coolness between my toes.  I like it.  I want to stay in the meadow a bit longer so I sit down away from the edge and plant some flowers.

My seeds need good, rich soil to germinate.  There is no room for toxicity in my meadow and I haul away that which taints my ground.  As I turn toward the path from whence I came, I can see dull brown patches amongst the fragrant blooms.  All but a few trees are strong and sturdy which pleases me.  Only a small number have broken branches or decaying trunks and I acknowledge them with thanks for what they have taught me. 

As my eyes travel across the panorama, flowers of every hue fill my vision and crowd out the patches of dry earth.  A soft breeze ruffles my hair. There is so much more good in the world than bad.  I feel that my focus now is to stimulate a healthy ground and try not to over plant. 

Sweet Song

A little sweetness and light to start the day.

Fireside Nostalgia

When you have a leisurely day close to the end of the year, thoughts can turn to other Christmases, other years, uplifting things and touch on the realities, too.  December has always been a month of reflection for me.  Quiet moments here and there to reassess, remember and regroup.  It is unlike any other month of the year.

I woke up early this morning, my eyes open in the predawn darkness.  I lay there listening to my husband's smooth breathing, relishing the sound as it washed over me in harmony with the dog's dreamy sighs.  The past few weeks have been filled with anxiety and concern.  While he is now doing fine, I am well aware that anything can happen in any of our lives at any time.  I am thankful that now wasn't his time.

I finally wiggled my feet into my slippers and quietly stole downstairs, turning up the heat and flipping on the Christmas tree lights.  Deep into a good book, I made a cup of tea and read until it became light outside.  There is fog on the lake - warmer out than is customary for the last day of the year.  Kids are usually ice-skating by Christmas.  Not this year.  The skim coat of ice thickens and dissolves with the unseasonably fluctuating temperatures.

I toasted the last of the panettone, liberally spreading butter on its fragrant surface. Taking it and another cup of hot tea, I tucked my book under my arm and headed down to the family room to lay a fire and light some candles.  I planned to enjoy a day of decadence, stirring only to load the washer and dryer and run a dustcloth on a few surfaces if the mood struck.  It did, but didn't ruin the ambiance the slightest bit.

When Bob woke up and came down with his coffee later, the fire was crackling and blues was softly playing in the background.  We reminisced about holidays past, family and friends and how much our connection to them means to us.  We have talked with many of them over the past week, catching up on lives which are traveling in all different directions. 

I have plans for next year.  I plan to be gentler on myself, going with the flow and approaching new challenges with gusto.  The challenges I speak of have wings.  I want to paint en plein air, soaking in the smells and sounds of the scenery that will be sketched on my canvases.  I will enjoy the company of family and friends regularly, if not in person then by phone.  I will continue to simplify as it has brought me great pleasure this year and I certainly have a considerable ways to go with it.  I will keep my sketchbook by my side and strive to draw every day, experimenting with color when the mood strikes.  I will dig in the dirt, spread mulch and plant flowers to my heart's content. I will continue to write as it is my compulsion and pleasure.  I will savor life and all it brings to my table.

I hope all whom I love and all whom I have yet to meet have a gentle year filled with hope, love and inspiration.

Happy New Year's Eve!

Near Misses

When someone you love has a near miss, you find out how you will react to the real thing - not something I want to go through again for a very long time. I now can confirm that I will be a basket-case.

It is the same with driving on the highway and seeing another driver veering into your lane out of the corner of your eye.  Depending on how close he gets is the difference between whoa and oh, my God. The residual reaction pounding through your brain may dissolve in minutes or strengthen your resolve to take mass transit.

Sometimes, the near misses are second-hand or after the fact.  It happens in someone else's life and the shock is quick.  Nerves are calmer when disaster is already averted.  Only my husband's feistiness kept him from succumbing to a diabetic coma early Wednesday morning.  Fear and apprehension stayed with me for several days so I was open to the whopper of a cold that hit me Friday night which, at least, took my mind off its infernal worrying.  We had never gone through anything like this before.  The EMT said his blood sugar was 15.  He should not have been conscious.  It was awful.  But he is okay now.

I am thankful.  If I ever think again that he is driving me crazy (which he will), I will remember this morning when I woke up to yelling and thrashing and nonsense words and the day I could have lost the great love in my life.  I am thankful he is okay.  I am thankful he is part of my life.  I thank God for allowing me to love someone so deeply that I feel blessed.

29 Ways to Stay Creative

29 WAYS TO STAY CREATIVE from TO-FU on Vimeo.


This is a great video which reminds me of all the ways I can keep creativity in my daily life.  It is by To-Fu Design, a Japanese graphics company and is just the motivation I need on those days which are filled with the world's longest to-do list! 

Create a Wonder of a Day

Hathaway's Wintery Blooms - Donna Saiia

Louie Schwartzberg is an amazing artist.  Patience plays a critical part of his art, something I can appreciate and embrace (at times, thank goodness).  Since this is the season for thankfulness, sharing his work with you is my gift of gratitude for all you mean to me and all I love about the world.