I had forgotten and in my forgetfulness did not realize how much I was missing, how much the lack of its presence was impacting my daily living.
And then, I stepped in front of the canvas. I stood and breathed and held myself in that space where time floats away and all that is left is the moment now, the moment of creation.
I had forgotten.
That moment where I become one with being present, one with the moment, one with the muse.
And then, I let go my fear and found myself in that place where in fear’s presence love flowed fearlessly into my being part of its flow.
And I remembered.
I remembered the joy, the bliss, the grace of letting go of fear and surrendering to the muse calling me to create.
And in my remembering, I fell.
Into the art of creating for the sheer joy of creating. For the utter bliss of being one with the paint flowing, the canvas calling, the brush strokes appearing effortlessly, fluidly, simply. With the thrill of experimenting, creating, allowing, letting whatever will be to be.
I fell
and became part of the flow
one
with the muse
all in
in Love.
every day is a blank page
every blank page is a new day
life doesn’t give us erasers – just a blank page, every day
blank pages are, almost always, meant to be filled
and if we don’t spill ink or paint to something on them, they just go away … unused
m
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I know! I know! Except, unlike a new day moving into the next, the blank page or canvas doesn’t go away, it just waits, calling, or silent. It waits. 🙂
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One of the most beautiful feelings in the world!!! ❤
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That it most definitely is Lorrie! 🙂
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