Today was nothing like I hoped it would be. It was one of those days I wish I could do all over again, for many different reasons.
Sitting in front of my canvas yielded nothing, creativity was practically non existent. I wanted to go right back to bed at 11AM, and wake up all over again. Maybe the day would get better after that. But I didn't go to bed. Instead, I headed out to run some errands, get a new phone, some groceries, and return just at the appropriate time for early afternoon coffee, which I purposefully took outside.
After that, the day seemed to be in a hurry to end.
The day was beautiful, more so when I decided to take part in it, stepping outside, communing, and taking it all in. It was pristine. I even heard the grass grow. Still, I would've loved to have been able to get some art work done. Perhaps tomorrow will be just as beautiful, but also creatively promising.
Oh sweetie, today WAS creative and promising for you because anyone who is able to sit and "hear the grass grow," was in tune with her senses and her creative voice and therefore your productive creativity was simply simmering and ready for a full but gentle boil.
An artist is always working even when it does not appear that they are.
I have already proclaimed tomorrow to be outdoors day, so come hell or high water, I will be out there, trying to hear it grow too.
Michele, thank you. Your words provide comfort. I'm simmering. :o)
Jay, it's simply fantastic. It's a low but clear rustling of each blad of grass. At first, I didn't know what the rustling was, but when I focused, I understood, and I could see the grass moving, reaching upward just like I was, towards the sun.