Times are changing. When I lifted the blinds in my studio this morning, I saw a grey squirrel feasting on the sunflower seeds I deposit out front each day, and realized that it was the first one I’d seen eating out there in months. For most of the summer and early fall, they left the… Read More Somewhere Between Silence and Engagement
My eyes opened of their own volition at 8:30. Since I could find no reason to get out of bed that early, I tried to go back to sleep. Having no luck, I ventured downstairs, and here I am, before 9:00, sitting at the computer with nothing to say. I’ll be back later. Oh,… Read More Learning as I Go
•••Each day is new, with no mistakes in it. Take a picture.••• I picked up The War of Art again. On page 7, Pressfield writes: Resistance cannot be seen, touched, heard, or smelled. But it can be felt. We experience it as an energy field radiating from a work-in-potential. It’s a repelling force. It’s negative.… Read More What’s the Rush?
•••Each day is new, with no mistakes in it. Take a picture.••• Yesterday I wrote that I’m not going to count any more, and I’m not. I’m sick to death of everything being quantified: how many “friends” one has on that evil social media site that shan’t be named (but ironically contains the word “book”;… Read More Just Keep Swimming
Taking the boys out for haircuts today gave me time to pull out the copy of The War of Art that I keep in my tote. I read only the introduction, but it tugged at me and reminded that I once wanted to dissect the book, writing about it to see what I could get… Read More To War