It's still hot outside, but there are storms. Wind, lightening and constantly changing skies, day and night.
Last night found me pacing, pacing, pacing. This house is is oddly laid out. One can walk in circles, or, opening a couple of doors, travel something akin to a Mobius strip. I did just that.
I have much on my brain and too little time to sort it out. The too-little-time-to-sort-it-out part means it's difficult to write anything meaningful or remotely helpful at the moment.
At this moment, it looks like this is where I test take my own advice. Transitions are hard work, these are difficult times and your artist is a little crazy.
All work and no play is a poor plan for any human, even when things are difficult.
What, really, is more important than the care and feeding of our brains?
Mine needs to play, and sleep. Sheesh. Hope you're hanging in there too.
part the 2:
I didn't post that entry, obviously. It's now morning and everything is dappled in bits of sun through the clouds.
I woke up scared. She's still in me, that thin, pale little girl sitting up in her bed in the middle of the night, listening to the house. The house is alive. She hears its breath rasping through the clapboards. She don't know if she's alone in the house. She doesn't get up to check and she won't. She'll pretend her parents are here. It's better that way.
She's still in me, but I'm not her. That's what I tell myself, when I wake up scared.
Transitions are hard, and a lot of human beings are having to adapt in ways they didn't know they could, right now. It always has been that way and it very likely always will be.
I'm one of them.
Today I'm a little unsteady. So I give it some thought. There are options, including panic. OR I can put my energy into a bandaid. OR I can give it a day to right itself, take a breath and focus this morning's energy into painting, while the house is quiet, the light is good and the vision is fresh.
Here's the thing. I'm strongly compelled to go with the panic or the bandaid option Doesn't matter why. What matters is that I know that I'm compelled and that neither of those options has worked well in the past. Continuing to chose either would be like running on a wheel. No thank you. Carousels are hellish to me. I'm with Grandma. I like the roller coaster.
So I'm going to go with painting.
I'll let you know how that works out, or if it doesn't.