Yesterday morning the lake was blanketed in mist. I was up early, but still too late to get everything done as I had wanted. T put down his coffee and took the dogs out into the fields so I had another 10 minutes to get myself together.

The car was loaded and everything was wrapped and tagged as it needed to be. Unfortunately, I was in slippers (okay, they are clogs, but seriously they have a fleecy interior and are in no way gonna make the leap into the shoe category) with unbrushed hair scrambled into a knot at the back of my head and a face that barely got hit with water before we hit the road (we = me and my face).

If I had a travel mug (that's to say, if I could've found a travel mug-- they tend to travel out to the woodshop never to be seen again . . .) I would've been sipping on some hot coffee as I zipped down the road that even at this late date, was still showered in golden beauty.

The drop-off could not have gone more smoothly so I had time to drop in on Tara who is recovering from gum surgery and in a bad way. (I brought soup, kozy shack rice pudding and a slew of magazines-- soft for the mouth, soft for the brain).

FUCK. This post is interrupted by the fact that I just burned the oatmeal AGAIN. God damn. The house stinks of black smoke. Grrrrr.

And now? I shall punish myself and not make myself anything else for breakfast---- right? Gosh I'm mean that way-- seriously, I will not be bothered to make anything for someone who can't pay attention to what's cooking on the stove. Hmm, are we getting a wee bit multi-personality here?

Okay forget it-- what was I going on about?

I forget.

Last night I was really tired. Not as tired as a new mom who hasn't slept for 4 consecutive hours in three weeks. Not as tired as a firefighter whose been battling a forest fire for 18 hours straight (sorry, I' ve got a nose full of burnt air here). Not as tired as a physician putting in her insane double-shifts as required for residency. But, you know, tired.

And as I flopped about putting my class together for today, I came across this passage from Natalie Goldberg's Wild Mind and it was JUST what I needed. It was just what I needed.

She is writing about a time in her life when she was teaching and still trying to write:

Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. I had too many things to do when I taught, and I felt the tension between those responsibilities and wanting to write. My time was diced up into minutes and hours rather than into seasons and the movement of the moon and sun. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down.

All writers have a natural bent toward laziness. That is good. Utilize it. The couch is a good place. Lie there for a whole day in the middle of everything. It is like waiting for vinegar to settle after you shake it up with oil. Let the oil get clear again. You get clear. This is a very wholesome place to write from. It brings you back to remembering your essentials: sky out the window, feet on a cushion, ceiling above your head, ground below.

My god. Could we put that to music?

Seriously-- I have read this small volume numerous times and yet cannot remember ever coming across that particular passage and my god, if bluepoppy were an LLC, wouldn't that be my mission statement? I think, yes.

Anyway-- I'm here. I'm gonna wrangle my way through this and you're all welcome to come along for the ride. Those of you who drop out at any point-- no worries-- a blessing on your head, mazeltov, mazeltov.

______________________________

Now, for TRACEY (because I love her so) I will share these images of my work. All of the flats except for "Her Favorite Things" were photographed shrinkwrapped so there's glare all over the place. But whatever, just to give you a sense of the pieces-- this is what they look like, more or less.

Tara, Truro Morning 15" x 19", mixed media on paper

My Trusting Heart 18" x 24", mixed media on paper

Heart of Kindness 15" x 22", mixed media on paper

Feeling Squammy 30" x 22", mixed media on paper

Feeling Squammy, detail

Blue Hubbard 25" x 20", mixed media on paper

Her Favorite Things 22" x 15", mixed media on paper

Her Favorite Things, detail

Hermano 24" x 18", mixed media on canvas

The Secret of the Pomegranate 24" x 24", mixed media on canvas

The Secret of the Pomegranate, detail

The Sundancer 24" x 30", mixed media on canvas

The Sundancer, detail

Can we say the girl loves her gourds?

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