Hello from cold Canada
This morning I remembered I had a blog. I remembered it in a blur of tears. Or it remembered me. Sometimes, we need something for which to reach.
It’s winter. It’s cold. It’s lonely.
Work is slow and needs generating. Heart is low and needs rejuvenating. So it goes. I’m at the cusp of a new cycle but I don’t know what it is. The words are waking up, stirring inside of me. Some of them are angry, a lot of them are sad. My pens, though, my pens are reluctant, taunting me instead.
I’m fresh off a busy spell, a couple of years of lots of work and not much worrying about it. Lucky me, that’s a gift for any self-employed artist out there. But, as always, things change, slow down, need simmering. I wrapped up contracts and unwrapped a big chunk of unstructured time. And that’s a gift, too. But, like I said, it’s winter and it’s cold and it’s lonely.
Insert metaphors about seasons changing here.
My tarot reader said I needed to go out into the world and find the shape-shifters. I’m going to listen to him, because it sounds nice. I like shape-shifters. I like the world.
As an artist, I want to constantly shift, too, make new shapes inside my self and out in the world, with things I create, be them poems or shows or songs or conversations. It’s a shifty time, some of the more painful growing pains I’ve ever had.
I’m going to seek some new scenery soon. Not for ever, but for now. New windows to look out, cliffs to look over. Going to go alone there but I hope for hugs, of course.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to make something new through and after and because of this shifting misty time. Wonder what it will be?
Thanks, as always, for any and all of the love you give me.