When I find myself looking back, amazingly I'm still the same person who is moving and dreaming forward. Haunting me is the curse of how I might be wroughting bad karma upon myself for "looking back". This is simply a fairy tale. "Never look back!" I hear them say. "Don't look back!" says the band playing in my head. The past is the past, but I'm lost in the present moment forgetting what the hell it is I'm supposed to be doing. Where is that feeling, that spark, that inspiring phrase or image that brought me here? By looking back, I can pause and learn while glancing over my shoulder; remembering what my intention was before it fell apart days, weeks, months later and changed into something else for someone else. The songs that hummed along the rhythm of who I was becoming were somehow silenced by unintentional, humiliating events. Past failures can kill a person. Past fears live in present moments forever. It takes confidence and awareness to stare down the demons and take back the heart and spirit of creative pursuits. I have forgotten the opportunity that when one door closes, another one opens. It takes perserverance and hope to go through those welcoming gates of possibility. It's happened and worked out that way for me in the past. (Cue song, "Find Your Way Back" by Jefferson Starship.)
March is half over. March has half begun! We are experiencing the presence of The Lion and anticipating The Lamb. Spring is right around the corner, Easter celebrations are here. Today is the promise of sun, but I'll be inside working at my PT job. Which I like, but I really need a hiatus. I need some solid ArT with HeArT time!!! SH#@! I've got a wicked knot in my back and neck that's been the worst kind of excuse. I finally saw the chiropractor, for the first time and it was pretty wild to hear all those popping sounds. (cringe) I'm on the road to wellness.
Today is Good Friday which is good because I get to leave work at noon! This will give me ample time to knock off my "to do" list for the family Easter gathering coming up. "I wanna eesta-egg, I wanna eesta-egg!" Looking back, when I was a wee girl, Easter smelled like new carpet and wood; sweet marshmallow and chocolate smeared cardboard cartons, mixed with perfume and pipe tobacco. My sister and I would be wearing our white squeaky buckled shoes and pilled stockings posing with our Easter baskets for that memorable polaroid shot. Easter foil from wrapped chocolates would be littered here and there, and of course, the conversation was inevitably about not being able to find that one missing hard-boiled egg. "Oh! Here it is!"
March is National Craft Month. So after the Resurrection, I plan on taking some creative action. Hopefully, I'll be feeling more limber and I can feed my ArT WiTh HeArT spirit. Matthew 7:7