The
Thing about writing is that you have to remember what exactly it is you
intended to
write about. So much swirls through my skull on an hourly basis, or
perhaps I should say minute-by-minute that I guess I need to start keeping
one of those recording devices in my hand and actually speak my thoughts
into it so I can check back into them at a later moment, but
somehow...that just isn't quite the same. For one thing my privileged
thoughts are really JARRED by being vocalized into sound waves. Until they
fly into the realm of sound they are my own private domain no matter who
hears them. I guess you could say at that point they are given away to the
Universe,
the
Universal Self
maybe, even if no one is around. Regardless they say you write from one
part of your brain, and talk from still another, which I know that is true
for me. I will stand staring at my shoe silently enjoying my own thoughts
for hours until someone says "Diane come back." Brain damage will do that
to a person. But talking out loud is whole 'nother ball o' wax. Takes
years of practice and dedication. Nerves of steel.
But
anyway recording might be a good idea so I can remember what the hell I
intended to write about today. And maybe it isn't so much what I wrote
about but the fact that I really intended to write about IT, and IT was a
good idea! But it is lost.
On the other hand I can discuss the painting I brought with me today. It is a Boogie Man Dancing down a swirly hill. He was fun to paint. I can at least include some of the conversation I have had with this creature. Yes, I communicate with my artwork. Doesn't everyone?
Open Studio 8/9/2007~Boogie Man Dancing
"Intention: Relax, Ground & Center, Connect with Source. I have Abundant Wealth and the Loft I need is at hand. Witness: Yes, dream on, I do and paint the oddest things. I don't really plan them they just spring themselves out of my paintbrush, as most of my activities go...springing from one moment to the next with no particular course, that I can see. So anyway, this guy looks pretty happy, a descendant of the Boogie Man once Baited By Boffo, I guess I've returned to some old homestead. So anyway, who are you Trickster?
He: I bring you into new ground. You were led here like Angie the Winnebago told you. Now paint your fifth great grandfather, Chief Red Bird, with the talking stick and you'll find your home, your treasure, your soul's work.
I: Wow! That's a lot of stuff! And what do I do for all this?
He: Give voice to your ancestor Elders, they'll tell you what to do next.
I: I reckon so.
Diane
Green, August 10, 2007
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