Artiste I Am Not

It's tricky for me because I always get ideas for stories and artwork. I am so busy I never think I can bring them to fruition. And also, I don't want to do the work on them. I know how much work it takes to create something in that way. Then there are other times I just enjoy the beauty around me. I feel paintings, enjoy their source of life that they give. I imbibe. I feel refreshed. There is so much pressure all around me to be an artiste, to conceptualize something. I feel scared that if I don't nothing will be left behind. However, it is being in the moment that is really the most uttermost important thing. Enjoying and looking and learning are the most essential.

Grateful

Beautiful clouds today and it's still warm enough to go bouncing around in the pool. Even though I don't live in a rich, lush neighborhood I love the drive to my house towards the mountains and along train tracks. There is one train track that I almost always miss seeing and send the car into cyclon space over the bump. Black eyed susans grow up along the side of the road. Without my ex-roommate it feels hard to be home here, but this is home. Leaving the richer Park Hill side feels sometimes like I am driving into an oblivion, but this outpost is home. I think everyone around me feels the same way: is this really home? There are so many townhomes here for sale. Maybe my next deeper question is: do I need to move? Maybe I just need a different kind of problem. Before in my life, my friends were my home. Now this shell doesn't feel like a home. A real community can be a home. Venturing out from the community with your heart open can lead you back to it. It may be a slightly different community that you go back to, I may end up somewhere different when I venture back.

Caterpillar

I made caterpillars out of eggcartons and stuck them in a vase. Flowers all eaten up!

Pine Beetle Blues

Experiencing of the forest's dead trees, some already tipped over gray and rotting, the forest's floor made mature by all the falling pine trees. There are some trees that are supple and bright green and bendable. They are about as tall as my shoe. There are also darker green tall mature trees. The pine beetle only carves through trees that are between 60 and 90 years old. The rest remain standing. In this picture in the right corner you can see a pictue of one of the small new trees. It is right by the edge of my sleeping bag.

Duldrums

Is summer really supposed to be this boring? I feel like a hound dog. In the south, with no mystery yet to come upon me. Hot dogs passing over my nose. And there are two cats here to boot. They contracted me to hunt raccoons, but I want mysteries. I'm tired of myseries. I'm wrinkled up like an old tee shirt. I'm all wrung out too.

And unless I'm chasing a raccoon up a tree I'm tired and depressed. Maybe more people are tired and depressed than I know about!!!