I finished the page yesterday while out for an iced chai.
I have to say, getting out and simply doodling in my journal has done wonders. After weeks of prepping for class, rushing through Points of Two entries, and packing, diving back into my journal has help jump-start other creative processes despite having a room full of boxes instead of a working area. Which is fine; I'm down to papers, a toolbox, and a vintage red suitcase filled with goodies. Is it possible to jump into said suitcase? Live among the supplies and scraps and magic wand? I wish we could wrap ourselves in magic and wonder, all that stuff we accumulate that has our muses begging for a moment of time, snatched hours flying by unnoticed.
That happened today, when I took the wood panel painting outside to finish a drawing on it. There's a tree in my front yard that's spread almost like a tent, green leaves hanging off branches that seem to grow up then down into the ground. A dome of nature, with long grass and quiet. And yes, it's in the front, where people can see me, but I don't mind. Put on my pretty pink headphones and do my thing.
Maybe this is all truly like riding a bike. You get distracted, and altered, changed by the crap life throws at you, and then come back, sliding right into that flow of creativity you left for awhile. Things change. A bit of meditation grabbed on a long car ride re-centers and energizes, shows you who you really are, underneath all the failings and bitterness and stress of all this stuff. Secrets. I can only shake my head, detach with love, and count off the days until I move to another state. I'm yearning for that second chance, that new beginning, that moving seems to promise.
And let me say this, while I'm loquacious and frank: thank you. To every single person who's signed up for my class, taken a chance on this whirlwind in my head I'm dying to scream from mountaintops. I am ecstatic for the chance to touch the lives of others, and if one of you comes out with some new way of looking at things, I'll feel accomplished. But more than that, from deeper places, thank you. I've lived with the stress of no more prescription insurance and expensive medications, of bills and calls and denying myself at every turn. And because of you, yes, you, I was able to get meds and pay bills and live with a little more room to breathe. You've helped loosen the corset laced around me, and when I saw sign ups on Tuesday, I actually started to cry. You're the most supportive, amazing, magical people a girl could be blessed to know.
Tomorrow, I'm planning on sitting with my emails until everyone's got an answer. And plan to work out a better organization system. And then, I'm off to the races again, putting together my 'zine or book of journal pages and essays on creativity and journaling, scraps of words and paper put together.
Because isn't that what we're doing, in the end? Collecting scraps and creating meaning, in our own ways?