Creative Balance

alice
Alice and the Cheshire Cat –John Tenniel

Usually I come to my blog posts with ideas in mind.  I sit down at my studio work table, pull out pen and loose leaf paper, and begin writing.

Not today.

So, I start where I am.  I have my glass of water with a lemon slice floating in it.  I have my coffee with cream, in the white mug with Alice and the Cheshire Cat decorating the outside.  I love Alice and the Cat.  They let their imaginations run, and nothing tips either of them away from being grounded in who they know they are.   And I covet the Cat’s ability to fade away, leaving only his very toothy smile floating in the air.

My two strings of Christmas lights are on.  Does not matter that this is June and half the year away from Christmas.  Seeing them gives me joy, especially on grey days like today.  It may be officially Summer, but there is a sky full of clouds out there.  Someone forgot to shift the weather dials to ‘summer’ and ‘sun’.

My pen with the sky blue ink is in hand.  A thin stack of paper rests in front of me.  This is paper rescued from the bottom of high school lockers last June.  Unused paper abandoned by its teenage owners at the end of the school year.  Retrieved to be used for my first drafts, which are handwritten, messy, and exactly what I love.  Paper happy that its worth has been recognized.

Just now, I realize why I am empty of ideas.  I spent my week creating two workshop proposals and a coaching proposal.  I am written out.  My creative heart and mind have run full speed for five days.  It is time to rest.

Time to let my weekend be a weekend in the original sense of the word.  There is no 24/7 for me.  I am 5/2.

Five days of building and sending out my creations into the world.  Two days of my creative self receiving in.

Reading.  Reading some more.  Doing crossword puzzles.  Colouring in my colouring books (I have several).  Talking and playing with family and friends.  Walking.  Cooking and savouring the meals I and others have created.  Sitting on the front deck, listening to the birds and the wind.  Watching the clouds pass overhead.  Breathing in the green smell of the next-door neighbour’s newly cut grass.

This is balance in my life.  Giving.  Receiving.

Come Monday, my creative well will be full again.  Ideas and Inspiration will whisper to me, ‘Let’s try this, and this.  Let’s play!’

_______________________

In this post:

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, illustrated by John Tenniel, first published in 1865.  You can find images of all his illustrations for this book at http://www.alice-in-wonderland.net/

 

Postcard #2 – Be here now

IMG_0096I am at the lake.  Sun, sky, water.  Birds that I can’t see sing a chorus.  They’re all hiding in the trees.  The ice is gone.  The open water is cold but the ducks out there don’t seem to mind.  Two Canada geese are causing a ruckus.  Splashing, then flying, honking out the noisiest Spring courtship I have ever heard.

There was frost this morning and the thermometer read zero.  That was three hours ago, the sun still rising.  Now the sun is full high in the sky and there is heat where its light lays across my legs.  This is balm to my heart.  Open.  Feeling.

This is being present.  This is resting in what is all around me, here, now.  My body relaxes.  Nothing to fuss over.  Nothing to be ready for.  Just open. Listening.

I have coffee beside me.  Decaf with cream.  Caffeine and I don’t always get along.  I sip it.  Warm now rather than hot.  The air is cooling it.  Doesn’t matter.  I like cold coffee with cream as well.

This morning is a gift.  Mist on the hills at the far end of the lake.  A faint layer of cloud above me.  No wind.  The water is glass except where the ducks have passed by.  The geese are silent now, perhaps their courtship complete.  I wish them well.

This is peace and perfection.  Right here, right now, all of me is present to this moment, my life.  Head, body, heart, spirit.  Whole.  One.  There is no other place to be, no other thing to do except be here now, present, writing.