Today, I’m not handling the great unknown as graciously as usual. On Sunday, I prepared the last details and then we celebrated her first birthday and for two whole days I had absolutely zero projects in the works. As ridiculous as it may sound, I might have temporarily gone crazy. Like, 48 hours worth of feeling lost or confused.
Last night, I searched the nooks and crannies of television and social media and found nothing, but didn’t I already know that. Of course, I did. After powering through yoga, even though I really didn’t want to and nearly stopped three times. I mean, I did stop three times. It was dreadfully silly. I soaked in the tub and then climbed into bed to read Anne of Avonlea, where she talked about souls and poetry. It helped some, almost.
The trouble is, I’m in this mix of distracted and excited, but the unknown is just so very unknown and distracting today. More than usual. It’s like the Godfather of the unknown. But, probably, it’s just normal unknown, really.
And today it is foggy, like the Godfather of foggy. A perfect day for thought and reflection and drinking in the sweet sounds of harmonicas and guitar strings. It’s a good day to feel things, for reveling in the deep, beautiful melancholy of it all.
It’s an even better day to feel things with a paintbrush in my hand. That is the place where sense comes, because there we meet the Creator and the brushstrokes come together like a prayer, like autumn leaves dance in the wind or like the waves crashing upon the shore. We call and He answers. And we are left with peace and clarity.
Here we figure out what questions we are really asking and at the same time, the answers too.
In the morning, O Lord,you hear my voice; and in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. -Psalms 5:3