I painted this. I started working on it over the summer. I wasn't sure what it would become. But I knew I wanted something new to hang in the dining room. And I didn't want to buy something. I wanted to make it. Is it great art? Nope. But I worked on it on and off for weeks until it spoke to me. Early this morning it said, "Hang me up now." I grabbed a hammer, some nails, and wire. I prepped the back of the canvas. Banging away at 6am while my husband slept upstairs. Wondering, probably, what on earth I was doing. Or maybe not. He's used to me waking up suddenly inspired to scrub the bathroom, practice or rearrange the kitchen cabinet. It can be anything at all. I used to wonder if this was a kind of madness but I've decided nothing in my life would ever get done if it weren't for these bursts of energy. It's just how I get things done.
I am, I've decided, in a period of redefining myself. Or, perhaps, better said, re-finding myself. For a period of a couple of years I've been drifting. Unsure of my purpose or direction. Just toiling and moving forward. I suppose that's the best any of us manage. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. But it sure is nice to actually have a sense of knowing where you're headed or where you are at any given moment. I may not know either of those two things, but I'm definitely feeling more proactive about which way I'm moving along this river called Life. That's better than nothing for now.While musing over this this morning I thought, "When I do find myself where I'd like to be, do I collect a re-finder's fee?"
