Monday, March 21, 2005

Life Lifted

A dream sequence this time, tying past to future, fountains to thoughts, isolation and connection. A song I haven’t particularly liked before inspired me, but it became an earworm so I had to use it, and so a line or two of that song developed into the scene. I was inspired by something I didn’t particularly enjoy but there it was.

I have been thinking about inspiration a lot lately. From whence it comes. I love to use the word whence. My love of the wh’s I guess. Anyway, I am finding that the more I write, everything really becomes available for me to harvest. I use that word purposefully also. Yesterday’s steam from the pasta pot was rising into my face, and I could see yellows within. I had never noticed that before but it was truly beautiful. Used it last night. The curling and the gentle tornadic rising, the bubbles’ releasing themselves was beautiful. Ideas spring forth, words become images, and images become words on a page. A giant lovely circle really. A blending if you will, this merging, I find, makes it really difficult to remove yourself from your writing. I read something this morning, from a friend, and what she wrote was really her revealed. I wonder if she realized how much of her resided in that article. Can we ever write what we are not? I don’t know. I am not sure it matters. But I still think art is a gift to ourselves and to others. Maybe that is what makes it art. Some say they know it when they see it, but maybe what they are seeing is the artist. Maybe that revelation, that truth revealed, is what makes it art, what separates it from the chaff, the common and the boorish. Life lifted.

Thanks for reading.

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