Here amidst these tall giants my crabby demons had a vacation
and were summarily exorcised
in the grace of nature.
I need the trees and the water and the company of good people to help me process the creative life: sometimes Inspiration's visits leave me bruised.
sometimes she stays just beyond arms' reach, out of earshot by a fraction of a decibel...
This past week was creatively rich and somehow left my heart weary; I found myself lost in fears I cannot even name-
I don't want to become that well-acquainted with them, quite frankly.
They are base and pointless, serving only to fatten themselves on the flesh between the chinks in my armor.
That sounds violent and gross, but it's the only way I can describe it.
I want to make myself a fortress of ideas.
And so one by one,
I choose better thoughts like bricks
and before I know it, the feeling of downward pull in my belly is tamed
and I look out at my garden in the sun
and I am grateful for this life, for this unique experience.
In the midst of the tumult I began working my first cab, from a very soft stone whose origin is unclear: all I know is that it's beautiful.
As is everything I saw yesterday (except perhaps the mosquitos)
While walking through Portola with some very lovely people.