Direction: Forward
4 PM, and I’m jonesin’ for coffee
I really really want some!
Not for the buzz — I’ve gotta get some sleep tonight — I want it for the taste. Strong. Black. Bitter French Roast.
So I brew a big cup of decaf only to realize something’s missing–besides the caffeine.
Something sweet. Something with absolutely no nutritional value. The less the better. It’s that kind of day.
I toss the house knowing there has to be a sweet secret stash somewhere because I STASHED IT THERE MYSELF.
But someone — not naming names — has discovered every hidey place. The M&Ms? Gone. The Kisses? Gone. Even the KitKats, which I don’t really like but would absolutely learn to love right now because the coffee’s getting cold.
And then, lo and behold, deep in (can’t say where in case the stash robber reads this), I find a rumpled old sandwich baggie with a couple handfuls of suspiciously ancient Skittles. The kind that stick together.
Not my first choice.
But in this moment?
The ONLY Choice.
So I settle in. Coffee. Skittles.
And the desire to tell the world–I’M BACK!!!
But not back-back.
Something better…
Because after four months of navel-gazing, pondering the meaning of life, death, the random spin of genetics and damn near everything in between, it’s time to get off my ass and get back to work.
Not back to where I was.
I’m moving forward.
While I was busy contemplating life, creativity, purpose, and whether I even remembered how to make art…
Life kept moving.
The long awaited studio is under construction–like actual forward momentum. A hole in the ground. Footers poured. Stem walls going up this week. I should be in by summer. YAY FREAKIN’ YAY!!!
Seeds for a workshop have been planted.
They may grow into an online class — maybe even an online artist community one day.
And a book! A book? Yes, A BOOK!!! Apparently I’m writing one. Well what d’ya know…
And in the middle of all this?
We haz a puppy!!!
ChaChaCharlie. Rolly-polly love smush and Maggie’s favorite new squeak toy. My six AM alarm clock with razor sharp teeth
Which means my life does not belong to me anymore. I exist between puppy naps and chaos.
Thanks to Charlie I’m up before dawn. When the sun comes up — or even if it doesn’t (PNW, remember) — I throw on shoes and head up the driveway to see what the light is doing over the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Is the mountain out?
Is the water silver? Slate? Mirroring the colors in the sky?
And speaking of sky, what’s going on with those clouds?
Even if the day is gray and dreary with no discernible focal interest, I make it my business to find something worthy of a photo.
This is my act of bearing witness to the new day.
Later, if I remember, I post one on FaceBook with a simple: Good Morning!
I’ve been posting morning photos for years. Long before moving here. The hard part has never been getting a good photo, it’s choosing which one.
And that’s when it hit me.
I’m not trying to get back to my creative practice.
I’m already in it.
Noticing is the Work.
Sound familiar? It should, I’ve been saying that in every post since January.
Paying attention to the day. Letting the morning greet me whether the mountain is showing up or hidden behind clouds. Noticing. Being aware of reflections. Play of light. Textures. Movement. The subtleties of color.
All day. Every day.
That noticing practice carried me through the ugly middle. Through the months of introspection. Through the “what now?” phase.
And while I was busy trying to figure it all out, things were quietly lining up.
Creative rest was laying the foundation for what’s to come.
The studio may not be ready for paint yet, may not be ready to film a class, but it’s getting there. I’m getting there. The work is forming before the walls are even finished.
I’ve decided to start sharing those morning photos on my Facebook business page too — different ones than I post on my personal page.
If you’d like a daily reminder to look up, look out, look again…
Small moments. Real light. No filters. Just paying attention.
Your Turn
Notice something, anything: Your coffee cup Your morning face, Sunrise. Sunset. A patch of dirt in the garden.
It doesn’t matter what it is, just notice it everyday for as long as you feel like doing this–a week? A month? Forever? Photograph it. Or write a few lines in your notebook. Document what you see. The words will change over time, the photos will all be different. The subject will remain the same.
But you won’t.
This is what happens when you notice things.
So tell me–what are you noticing these days?
‘Til next week-
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