In Search of…

New inspiration, new beginnings?

In search of…

Magic?

Refueling the inspiration tank.

Not sure how I want to look at a new year?

I long for more of a long stream of life, with ups and downs.

Not yearly slots.

Do I get that option?

My horoscope said, you’ve been busy, don’t start anything new or make any decisions until February.

Need I any more excuses to lollygag?

I find myself in my hammock, swinging, mockingbird above looking down at me.

Singing other birds’ tunes.

Drunk from the warm sun.

Changing times and thoughts.

The breeze so cool, the sun so toasty.

I carry around a stack of old letters and photos.

Other people’s memories.

Long past.

1888.

I feel little pup bodies bump under my hammock several times.

What are you doing in there?

So…

We set out…

In search of refueling the vaults of inspiration.

I do this all the time.

Regular refueling.

The gypsy wagon gets cleaned out.

I set up an easel in the sun.

I search for the sun longingly each morning.

Days in the 70’s, nights in the 30’s.

Fur snoops.

I want to drink in inspiration.

Breathe it in, in dense infusions.

Feel it fill my soul.

But how?

Where is inspiration?

A whisper in the wind says, get up.

Walk outside.

Open you ears, nose and eyes.

Inspiration is everywhere.

In summer there is an abundance in the garden.

In winter, some hang on, standing out.

They hold a key…

Mint, fresh.

Breathing it in.

Slowly, my shadow that holds all my inspiration starts to stand up.

Stretching, waking.

Standing up a little straighter.

My mind starts to flutter.

Life.

Scent, sound, breeze kisses.

Oranges.

Orange oil drips off the skin.

Its effervescence floats into the air.

I close my eyes.

Inspiration.

Yes.

With orange in hand I stumble towards a rosemary patch.

I take a large cutting.

Its neighbor tugs on my hem…

So I kneel down and eat violets.

Breathing in their sweet kool-aid scent.

Like grape candy.

I think lemon custard is on the list for sure.

Oh lemon.

Oranges, mint, rosemary, violets, lemons, sweet alyssum, white sage.

I am infused.

In the sun, I peel.

Sweet in ways I can’t describe.

He watches.

That lover of grapefruit and oranges.

That loving handsome soul.

His kindness could melt any heart.

I see my heart in his eyes.

(it doesn’t hurt that he gives hugs when asked, putting his chin on your knee -and if you ask for a big boy hug, well, he’ll stand right up and put his arms around your neck, yummm)

Begging, drooling.

Okay, you can have a piece.

Bliss face.

We hang around…

Curtains billow in the breeze.

The mountains, a constant.

 I read on.

Faces…

Times…

Hats, places.

Bonnets and capes.

Tied in a pink ribbon.

A ribbon that used to belong to a blonde girl.

Of the furry variety.

Gulp.

Time slips.

I hear the voice again.

Get up.

Look around.

Inspiration is everywhere.

 

And it is.

 

In huge slices for the taking.

 

I search for fresh inspiration every day.

Maybe we all do?

It’s a natural need I am sure.

 

Whenever you are truly ready.

When you feel that tinge of emptiness.

Just close your eyes and say to yourself, I need some inspiration.

 

Take a deep breath, and look around.

 

It will be there.

 

It works.

 

And when you find it, I would love to know what curious place it was hiding in.

And perhaps, where it led you to? 

 

Or, maybe you already found it, and you can tell us your secret?

 

 

 

Love, V

 

 

 

 

ps:

He says…

Hurry up and take the picture, I am only humoring you because we sleep together at night.

Then he makes the hugest annoyed sigh known to dog.

Keep up the tough guy act, and I’ll tell everyone how you cuddle into me and purr in my ear.

A softy.

Deep down, somwhere, deep in there.

He is with me at least.

So glad I held on long enough for it to show up.

Or should I say, for him to feel safe enough to show me?

🙂