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Every morning, I draw that 1st cup of coffee. Then the day can start. A Lonely Cup of Coffee I allow myself
the luxury of breakfast (I am no nun, for Christ’s sake). Charmed as I am by the sputter of bacon, and the eye-opening properties of eggs, it’s the coffee that’s really sacramental. In the old days, I spread fires and floods and pestilence on my toast. Nowadays, I’m more selective, I only read my horoscope by the quiet glow of the marmalade. - Dorothea Grossman, I Allow Myself “The creative needs both the discipline and the wandering. They are essential to each other. Without experiencing life away from the art, there is no art to create. But, also without having a routine in which to create the art, there is also no art to create. Most creative people will experience seasons of living and seasons of artistry. You need to live in order to be inspired. And you need the rituals, routines, and the loving discipline in order to bring that inspiration into something tangible, an artistic creation that can be shared with others, to allow them to glean insight into the life you’ve just experienced and the lessons you’ve brought back from your wandering. Even when your artistic life seems barren, you may be gathering inspiration. And when your artistic life becomes an obsession, let it. Life will come back to beckon you again. And so the cycle of creativity continues.” - Jamie Varon January 2024, Kauai, Hawaii
journaling daily and favorite pics! “But seeking is a kind of work. I don’t mean heading off on wild road trips just to see the stars that are shining above your own roof. I mean committing to a lifetime of engagement: to noticing the world around you, to actively looking for small distillations of beauty, to making time to contemplate and reflect. To learning the names of the plants and places that surround you, or training your mind in the rich pathways of the metaphorical. To finding a way to express your interconnectedness with the rest of humanity. To putting your feet on the ground, every now and then, and feeling the tingle of life that the earth offers in return. It’s all there, waiting for our attention. Take off your shoes, because you are always on holy ground.” - Katherine May, Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age “At any time you can ask yourself: At which threshold am I now standing? At this time in my life, what am I leaving? Where am I about to enter? What is preventing me from crossing my next threshold? What gift would enable me to do it? A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms and atmospheres. Indeed, it is a lovely testimony to the fullness and integrity of an experience or a stage of life that it intensifies toward the end into a real frontier that cannot be crossed without the heart being passionately engaged and woken up. At this threshold a great complexity of emotions comes alive: confusion, fear, excitement, sadness, hope. This is one of the reasons such vital crossing were always clothed in ritual. It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds; to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there; to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward. The time has come to cross.” - John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us This post is celebrating my 69th birthday! At the threshold of my seventh decade-Aging is a privilege.
My second grade teacher liked to ask us,
“How do you feel today, on a scale of one to ten?” Ten always meant I’m super, thank you and one was always not today, Mrs. MacAuley, not today. But I never liked numbers, they would always twist and rebel against my mind so I chose to speak in colors instead. January third – I am the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream but I’ve eaten all the chocolate chips. I am calm. February seventh – I am a bruise of blues and violets today. I think it would be best if I sat by the window. These are unhappy colors. April eleventh – I am turquoise, I am magenta, I am every color in the rainbow. April thirtieth – I am gray, I am silent. May first – I am orange, the color of melting creamsicles on a beach in July. June twelfth – I am as yellow as the school bus that will bring me home to summer. I am free. Twelve years later, I still use colors. The winter makes me feel cobalt blue, the ocean turns me a seafoam green. Violets and purples leave me uneasy and scarlet is a fever of fury. Some nights I drown in shades of navy, denim, and cornflower but other nights I meditate in forests of harlequin and shamrock. But you, you leave me a blinding white followed by a soft yellow: the color of sunlight after a period of darkness. – Kelsey Danielle, “A Diary of Colors” "Nothing can replace the power of practice and figuring yourself out. Nothing has been more rewarding than knowing I have practiced myself into my own style. Nothing has made me as proud when it comes to my art as someone saying, “I knew that was yours before I knew it was yours”. Practice and through that making lots of bad art to also make good art. “ -Jeanne Oliver “What you learn from one journey guides you to follow another, these creative processes are also exactly that. My daughter Whitney and I had a great road trip in September. Along the way we journaled, had fun drawing and end product was this up cycled journal from a kid’s book and hand crafted origami fold diary. Collaged photos. I prepare the piece in advance of the trip, and date the pages. It helps along the way to visually see how far you’ve gone, and how many days are left of your adventure. Each day we draw and journal little mini Artworks, add memorabilia picked up along the way… It all comes together as a beautiful visual memory of memories! |
KTAs a working artist/retired art educator, I've always lived the artful life. Let's share! |