I've felt a bit stuck recently, in the slogging through mud type of way. The kind where you can SEE the beauty up ahead but you just can't get there yet because each step takes concentration since the sticky ooze has you nearly up to your knees. Maybe you can even FEEL the beauty, with the delicious warm air and amazing scents swirling around the top half of you while you feel the cold and pressure of the muck below at the same time. Those moments that can be so frustrating because the amazingness is RIGHT THERE and yet. . . and yet every time you try to fly into it your top half gets yanked back down because right now you're HERE. Which isn't completely beautiful and light. Yet. The potential is there, but it isn't found by running away. It is found by moving through.
I was going through my drawer of paintings the other day. The place where they stay after they are done and they haven't found their next place to be yet. And I came upon this, which I think I did a year or so ago.
I was going through my drawer of paintings the other day. The place where they stay after they are done and they haven't found their next place to be yet. And I came upon this, which I think I did a year or so ago.
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