I stumble and get in my own way a good part of the time.
I have a regular job, but I dream of a life less ordinary.
Art, sunshine, wanderings...
Laughter, late nights, and slow days...
Cities intertwined with nature, and marching to my own drum...
Time becoming meaningless, natural rhythms revered....
These are the things I yearn for.
Bright splashes of color, the halo of light...
Pattern and texture, the strumming of music...
New ways of viewing the world, new ways of contemplation...
Emotions burning core-deep, and ecstatic movement....
These are the things that ignite me.
I have this vision: I'm standing outside the door to an art studio. On the other side of that door is a woman. She's got a dreamy expression on her face, panel after panel of artwork spread around her, and no obligations other than to continue on her creative journey. And she looks a little like me, only waaayy more relaxed. And somehow I know that if I can just get through that door, past the obstacles at the threshold (most of which are of my own making), once I enter the studio I'll find that the woman really is me.