05 August 2011

Me in this Moment



This morning it looks like the skies might actually give way.
The clouds are pregnant with rain and long past their due date.
We're not Texas-dry here, but the leaves on the Barberry bushes
have been the texture of potpourri for weeks now.
It's a big tease, this southern summer air.
All humidity without a drop of liquid relief.
But today looks promising.
The stiff breeze smells damp.




A tobacco field walk, I took this morning.
Staying mostly in the shade of the woods bordering the fields.
Windchimes from a distant porch,
and a particularly obnoxious crow from somewhere to the east,
were all that accompanied the sound of my footsteps.
I love these moments.




A lot on my mind lately.
Sometimes I think I'm crazy.
I come from crazy and am sure to some extent that one day
I'll be authentically insane.


Do you think it's true that many of the greatest creative souls
in the past have been at least somewhat off-balance?
I do.




It's a delight and a danger, I think.
To feel so much. So intensely.
It makes the making possible, and makes it perfect.


If it meant that I could create something
that would somehow have a positive impact on people,
I think I could welcome the crazy.
A small price to pay for the gift of contributing something
which matters in the world:
a loose screw or two.


I walked along this morning and thought of this past week.
How I've been home with The Monkey during his bout with croup.
How his imagination is already beyond blossoming.
It's exploding.
I think about his future and hope he never implodes.
Surely he'll be an artistic one,
and he'll possess all the gifts and curses that come with that.
And I question-dream-desire-fear having a second child.




I think of the textile sketches on my desk,
the patterns and designs still in green stages on my computer.
I think about half-drops and half-bricks and mirror repeats.
About hidden zippers. Leather fringe and vintage safety pins.
Saturation vs. Desaturation and how I should start simply.

. . . I don't know that I've ever known how to start simply.


I think about terra cotta with white ink and
a strong cup of coffee in the morning.
I need to order boxes. Big boxes and cube boxes and shred.
I need to breathe out some of the excitement so that I
can take a breath of air instead.
Sometimes the creative waves wash anxiety into me.
The merriment of making that will occasionally spiral into madness.
I think of my son's creativity again . . .
and wonder what he'll become.




And I think of me.
There's so much I want to do.
I want to write.
I want to write a book
but I don't know that I have much worthwhile to say.


I want the website finished and the collaboration finished.
I want more hours in the day,
and puddles on the ground.




Today, I feel like a hot little seed of intention.
Crouched down and cramped up, restless-
So full am I with plans, possibility and potential.


I walk and work with a vibrating energy.
Like I have a body full of electrified air,
static before the storm.
Here I am,
excited to grow,
somewhat fearful yet impatient for life on a higher level.
Embracing my purpose,
and waiting for rain.


8 comments:

  1. I took a moment to read this as I peered out over gray cast skies casting shadows over soybeans. To my left is a tower of books and a pile of yarn threatening to spill over. So many mirrored sentiments. Today I hope for rain (and a moment to tie up loose ends and share a meal and some laughter with those we love). Wishing you a wonderful weekend fueled with your ideas and motored by kinetic energy. Excited to see what comes of it and hoping your monkey is well.

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  2. There is so much to say to this, not so much in the way of words typed out on this [too bright] screen, but more in the way of sighs and nods and parallel experiences.

    Also, starting simply is for the birds. Forget it. Make it exactly how you want it.

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  3. You have energetic thoughts...I hope rain did come! You made me remember TN! Happy weekend JJ!

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  4. From one crazy girl to another, I say DO IT.

    Whatever it is.

    If you don't, then who will?

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  5. It looked like rain here today, too. But it never gave in.
    I do agree that creative types are borderline....something. I picked up a book one time that was about how all the greatest artists (whatever the medium) were all a little insane. I put it down because I feared it was a little too real for me. It would justify my craziness and depression. Sometimes I wish I would have bought it. Hmmmm.

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  6. Hot and muggy here too!
    Sleeping comfortably is a challenge.

    Your thoughts are so eloquently stated...
    I hear you Jess!
    I feel so much like you do. So much!

    Listening, seeing, smelling, touching things constantly- It seems that it's part of having a creative spirit. It makes life that much richer. The flip side is that sometimes there's sensory overload going on!

    I think juggling creating and having a child is a very delicate balance. Both require huge amounts of energy!

    This is a wonderful post. I appreciate it. xo

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  7. Ahh, I know this feeling well! It's so exciting, but also so very frustrating!!!

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  8. I echo the sentiments left above. You speak for me, for my insides, left without definition. Sometimes I just let it all spring forth, yet often I fear people will really see "the crazy". Sometimes I believe we glow with it. Certainly your art does, as I am sure do your eyes.

    How lucky your little one. He is on a Grand adventure.

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