Think I’ll make a date with the artist in me every Sunday, good reason to write a random blog me thinks,
if you haven’t surmised I’m reading The Artist’s Way. Lovely little book so far have only reached page 24 however I definitely see correlations with other teachings making it unknown but familiar this is strangely reassuring. I’ve previously read it’s a good routine to write down your dreams, as you do this it encourages the memory to maintain them upon waking which can be helpful if a person should be intrigued by dream meanings as a way of understanding themselves. For me ‘morning pages’ would be a similar exercise in that it empties the head, you can confidently store what might be bothering you, images, words, symbols and come back to them. All small treasures or keys that unlock or illuminate the different paths each of us travel.
A date with my creative side, it’s not as curious to me as it used to be…
Feeling as though I’ve shaken the shackles that enveloped the container I was placed in at the beginning. Feels increasingly like I’m about to pop out of my box as though I were Jack within. And I wonder if my eyes are ready, I worry ever so slightly that the lights will be too bright and in a silly way I wonder if I’m late for the party??
But then there is the voice, calmly constant, it flows, dances even and I relax as I observe its daily performance, life an open stage. I can choose to dance with it or move against it, for me having that choice is the greatest freedom. Knowing that I am free to come and go as I please makes me linger all the longer.
There are no need for names or labels,
what is experienced causes not an ounce of shame,
good intention the leading foot, finding that I falter less, my stumbling is merely equal to a wavering in the wind.
And it feels good, the breeze against my skin there is no fear when the rain sets in…
instead of sheltering myself I flip my perspective,
to simply drink it up.