i stay up last night reading letters to a young artist. some bits i need now, others don’t strike me but i know i’ll need them later. i take note of the three important things: morning pages, walking and holding your gold ~ creating your art instead of speaking about it. in the steaming night, i try to get to sleep but ideas flood me. i find myself searching out my asian~silk journal in the darkness, drawing blindly, not wanting to wake my beloved by turning on the light. in the morning i find that i have drawn all over written pages. it makes me laugh.
i wake and see chris off, before writing my three morning pages. my mind feels clearer for it. i feel all ajumbo with ideas, so i take the second piece of advice – walk. i walk down to the park near our house, the park that is barely a skip from our front door, and yet i have only rode through it before. i am mesmerised by the lattice shadows in the lane. i sit beneath a tree, flies and grasshoppers akimbo, and stream out the ideas on to the page. i watch as an indian myna bird chases a grasshopper. it is good to be out under the sky, journal in hand.
this morning i felt uncomfortable. and i laughed out loud: because i realised that is was good to feel uncomfortable. i laughed out loud because i am breaking out of an old mould, and transitioning into a new shape that is fitting me better.
no reality shows
and all in love.