It’s been a year now since she moved on from this plane. I miss the sound of her little paws racing down the hall, coming to greet me whenever I return home. Part of me longs to get another feline companion, yet part of me feels it’s too soon and fears going through the trauma of loss again. They don’t live as long as us and I’m still young enough to out live another furry friend. Maybe I’ll wait until I’m 60 to bring one home again. We’re bound to leave this world together then…or at least I won’t be too far behind. For now though, my heart still aches from the loss and yet longs for the void to be filled. I think I’ll always miss my little buttercup but it’s still too soon for me to move on.
I’ve been reminiscing a lot lately, back to a time, not too long ago, when it was just me, a Moleskine sketchbook, one mechanical pencil and a technical pen. Such simpler moments. A little something I would like to get back to.
My brain has been fried as of late with all that is going on in the world right now. Unable to keep up or keep the chaos in my head straight. I find myself “disconnecting” more. People come to me and say “Did you hear about…” “Have you read about…” “Girl, did you see on…” And I almost feel embarrassed to say “No, I haven’t.” There’s only some much I can attend to. There are only so many things I can give my energy to before I burn out or sink into a depression. It’s difficult to keep creativity flowing with so much turmoil and outrage.
…so I unplug and try to cultivate moments of simplicity and peace before the chaos consumes me.
I’ve realized that my recent desire to return to doing some works in just black ink is my creative spirit expressing this longing for simplicity. I’m gonna just flow with that for a while.
We are always trying to be somebody.
Trying to get somewhere.
Trying to do something.
We exhaust ourselves trying to accomplish things that we think will make ourselves feel important and significant even though we will never be more important to others than we are to ourselves.
It takes courage to be nobody.
To go nowhere.
To do nothing.
To settle into the quiet peace of not trying to fabricate our lives in order to win approval, prestige and status according to the opinions of others. To quietly go about our days taking care of our basic needs and doing things that we simply enjoy with no fanfare, pomp or show.
There’s a freedom and treasure in being nobody; being free from the confines of other people’s expectations and the contentment that is discovered from living a simple life in the comfort of our true being.
“There is no greater calamity than not finding contentment with one’s own sufficiency. There is no greater mistake than to be covetous. When one is content within one’s own nature, one will always have enough.” ~ Daodejing, Chp. 46
…just some thoughts that came to me while tending to the garden this morning. 😊
I’ve been on a bit of a break. It wasn’t a conscious one, just something that kinda happened. I’m guessing with all the researching on doing prints, test runs, revamping my branding material and finishing up my last drawing, my spirit just said “Chill for a minute.”
I haven’t been doing anything major, just a few doodles and sketches here and there. In the meantime I’ve got four drawing ideas lined up along with gathered reference material. It amazes me how when I think I can’t possibly come up with anything more something new comes to mind. It reminds me that creativity and the imagination is inexhaustible. But I also keep a log of my ideas just in case something doesn’t come up and one of those four drawing ideas was pulled from that log.
Outside of that I’ve put aside some time to read, for pleasure, rather than for knowledge and information. I snagged a copy of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho from my library’s bookstore. I’m slowly making my way through it. I haven’t read a book simply for pleasure in over 20 years. My years of college has me so conditioned to reading to gain information and knowledge that I almost feel guilty about setting aside some time to read for no other purpose than enjoyment. Then again, I kind of feel that way about doing anything that doesn’t have an end goal. I wonder if that’s a cultural thing? I always feel that if I’m not sleeping, my every waking moment should be geared towards serving some meaningful purpose.
Anyhoo, I’ve also been fiddling around with our container garden. My hubby loves tomatoes so that’s mostly what we’re growing. But we have a few other things like herbs, cucumbers, lettuce, celery and more (see pictures below). I’m most excited about the sweet potatoes and ginger. This is our first time growing them so I’ve got my fingers crossed that everything turns out well. It’s nice being able to just go to your backyard when you want a fresh salad. 😊
Looking at the work of others can be very inspiring. But sometimes it can be discouraging too. You can’t help but think about your own work and do that very thing that you shouldn’t do; compare yourself. I work on paper. Often small pieces but nothing larger than an 8×10 drawing on smooth Bristol board. Everybody else it seems work on these epic size canvases or drawing sheets. Which leave me wondering, is it really all about size? Is that what makes a work of art more impressive than others? The sheer magnitude of it?