This weekend the arts festival was open to the public and I was assigned the booth most likely to have the highest traffic. Noodle Kaboodle.
Swim “noodles” had been cut into discs by the wonderful women in the supply room. Each child gets a paper plate with one disc hot glued in the center (also prepared by aforementioned w.w.) The child then builds a sculpture using several loose ones, toothpicks and other plastic foam shapes.
My job was to hand out plates, foam and toothpicks, engage the artist (or not) in conversation about their creations, and help he/she put it into a plastic bag to take home.
It was non-stop. Friday night 5-9, Saturday 10-9, and Sunday 1-5. A huge success. I’m exhausted!
Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. Pablo Picasso
Today I’m planting corn and cherry tomatoes. I’m also writing haiku for tomorrow’s critique. If I stay present I will be able to do both:)
The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. John Milton
The mind ought sometimes to be diverted that it may return to better thinking. Phaedrus
The mind is the root from which all things grow if you can understand the mind, everything else is included. Bodhidharma
The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves. Carl Jung
Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace. May Sarton
I struggle with what is. Yesterday “facts” “feelings” and “words” were piling on with abandon. I wrote. I meditated. I exercised. I went to three stores just to be around others. I’ve been here many times before, but sometimes when I’m in the middle of it, it’s hard to remember.
Trust, Laura. One of my “words” for the new year. The other is courage.
I am also rereading Great House by Nicole Krauss in preparation to lead today’s discussion at book club. Several stories are tied together as one, and I read it, not so much for details, as for the bigger story. The passage in the book ” a tour of that metaphorical house, the mind” helps.
I love the book, but several members have let me know they don’t. It will be an interesting discussion.
This morning I wake ready to begin again. Yesterday’s experiences were just another tour through the “great house.”
Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens. Khalil Gibran
I figure a day of staying in and letting the muse be in charge might not be the norm and, sure enough, yesterday I need to drag myself back into the “real world.”
Jazzercise at 8 in the morning? I want to stay in my nice warm bed. But an hour of moving around to music gives me energy. Muse, is that you?
A 10 o’clock appointment with my financial adviser doesn’t sound real exciting. What do I need with a financial adviser? She asks what’s new with me and I start babbling. Telling her my dreams. She listens and asks questions and suggests some tweaking to my annuities, taking some of the worry of future finances. Is Terry a friend of my muse?
Then a quick run to Target for a planner for the new year…and thirty minutes of dawdling through the arts and crafts aisles. Muse?
Ah, back at home to finish the new Barbara Kingsolver book, Flight Behavior. (Highly recommended) But somewhere in the middle of butterflies and cultural diversity I realize I’m not making art.
Was about my new year’s resolution?
I climb out of my recliner, pick up my camera and head to the writing room.
Here’s some art I made…just not recently. Today is art appreciation day.
near the ceiling, a snowflake border…no two alike
My new year’s resolution is to pay attention. My muse is everywhere.
I’m not in control of my muse. My muse does all the work. Ray Bradbury
Writing a story or a novel is one way of discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer’s own life. —Eudora Welty
There are less than six days left until November 1. How, you ask, am I getting ready for this annual writing frenzy ritual? Oh, you didn’t ask? Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Several days ago I got the bright idea that I could cut into the cost of replacing my nasty old carpet with laminate flooring by ripping up the carpet and padding myself. How hard can that be?
Pretty &#$* hard. This stuff has been on my floors since we moved in in 1987. And…ta-da…the padding is stuck to the concrete. Nasty!
There’s a story here for sure as I rip and scrape and sweep and haul. My mind spins on elusive ideas for my Nano novel as my body slaves over the “foundations” of this house.
Here’s the plan. I’ll work on clearing the floor for an hour or so at a time, then rest and free write, allowing the characters and their stories to become more “concrete.”
Maybe by the end of November I’ll have a novel and a new floor!