Each time I pick up a brush and stare at a blank canvas, it is like taking a step over a cliff and trusting a stepping stone will appear under my feet. I try not to grab onto anything, at first, but let the colors and textures, rise up around me. It is a different way of seeing and listening to possibility.
So, an abstract conversation. I like the sound of that, the feel of it in my finger tips.
At first light, my heart is surprised and delighted. A blog is new, but as a poet I kept a journal going for years, writing to clear my mind before setting my heart free. We'll see where this will go.
Nov. 10, first blog post. Sitting with turkeys and deer, flowers and melancholy.
