You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘creativity’ tag.
Daily gratitudes:
- Changing sides
- Cats
- Vegetable soup
- Tickets
Daily gratitudes:
- Cool evenings
- Cleaning up
- Successful rescue
- Soft feathers
- Anticipation
Daily gratitudes: (and it’s a tough day for gratitudes)
- Loving my friends regardless of our differences
- My creek
- Breaking down boxes (literally)
- A rare cup of cocoa
- George Carlin
Daily gratitudes:
- Fighting depression and winning
- Soaking up afternoon sun
- Voting
- Hummingbirds
- Seed catalogs
Yesterday was a rough and emotional day. I was poked and squished and prodded and gave away money and went back to cozy house, but I’m not quite ready to write about that. Soon. Until then, we’ll spend a couple more days in Las Vegas.
Today’s gratitudes:
- An easy drive
- 13 inches of snow, which is good for the drought
- Leftover Carelli’s Tricolor Tortellini
- Petting two dogs yesterday
You know you want to read it….come on over and give the new site a follow!
Here’s a link to today’s post:
I’d love to see you over there.
Even though it’s still lovely here, I have been missing Cozumel*. My anxiety from work has made me doubt my abilities as a writer, as an artist, and as a competent human being, and that’s been really rough. It’s very reminiscent of my days in abusive relationships, and as was the case then, I don’t know how to improve it. MKL has been a rock and a treasure. I understand that I have choices, but I hate being driven to them because I cannot resolve my own situation. Yes, I know I’m being vague, but that’s how it’s got to be. I remember being so clear and at peace in Cozumel. That was a magical place for me. I want that feeling back.
Cozumel, Mexico.
Quote of the day: “You find peace not by rearranging the circumstances of your life, but by realizing who you are at the deepest level.” — Eckhart Tolle
Daily gratitudes:
Daily messages for my girls
Carpool mornings
Cooler nights
Work (even so)
Dogs
I sometimes think that all works of art are born somehow of fire. Words burn in a writer’s brain, unforgiving until they can spill upon page. Motion burns from the core of a dancer’s muscles. Paintings are licks of flame risen from a spirit through a brush to a canvas. Even in photography, there is a burning peaceful need to capture what is seen by one set of eyes into something that can be seen by others, a sharing of the embers of the photographer’s vision. The center of the earth that we walk on each day is made of fire, and it passes through layers of rock and soil and the skin of the soles of our feet to the center of the souls of our being, and must be expressed somehow.
In this sculpture studio, we found the purest expression of the creative fire, molten iron casually poured by men protected from its destructive power, men looking like creatures from the center of the earth themselves, men who controlled the flow of creativity, channeling it into molds and frames, containing it, shaping it, melding with it, as it fashioned itself through the sculptors hands into art, cold to the touch but still retaining that fire within. As we all do.
It reminded me that art can be dirty and primal and beautiful, full of heat and passion and practicality all at the same time, blending hotly and gently to create an artist’s ever-imperfect vision, for imperfection is the nature of art as viewed by the artist, and what makes them strive to improve always, trying to touch that fiery core with their bare hands, capture it, rejoice in it, and share it.
Shidoni, Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Quote of the day: “I used to know a sculptor… He always said that if you looked hard enough, you could see where each person carried his soul in his body. It sounds crazy, but when you saw his sculptures, it made sense. I think the same is true with those we love… Our bodies carry our memories of them, in our muscles, in our skin, in our bones. My children are right here.” She pointed to the inside curve of her elbow. “Where I held them when they were babies. Even if there comes a time when I don’t know who they are anymore. I believe I will feel them here.” — Erica Bauermeister
Daily gratitudes:
Brief flashes of clarity
Some time with Kelsea
Realizing creative necessities
Water
Beach time soon come
Should you think that we did nothing but park ourselves on a beach during our sabbatical, you’d be mistaken. MKL, wonderful, indulgent husband that he is, drove our little VW bug into San Miguel for me to take pictures of the architecture. Although the driving was insane, MKL did a wonderful job. I loved San Miguel. We mostly avoided the tourist district, which is populated primarily by disrespectfully attired people from the many cruise ships that come into port each day, and vendors using whatever line they could think of to make us stop (“Hey, Mr. Mustache!” was my favorite). Exploring the fringes of San Miguel revealed amazingly beautiful murals on building after building, as well as the small details that my photographer’s eye automatically seeks out. This piece was painted on the side and loading dock of the mercada, and our blue friend appears to be taking a sniff of the pink flowers. Oh, how lovely to see green and flowers and sunshine at the beginning of Februray.
San Miguel, Cozumel, Mexico.
Quote of the day: “I dream my painting and I paint my dream.” — Vincent van Gogh
Daily gratitudes:
16 days until SpringContinuing to fight the battle with depression
My bed
MKL
Sun
Seasweetie's Pages 