It's been awhile ... I once intended to express myself with strict regularity, but creativity, once distracted, is hard to recover.
For the last few weeks I've been immersed in addressing a singular and pressing demand while trying to keep pace with the multitude of passing hooks vying for attention. My consequent jelly-like wobbles have distorted perspectives. However, throughout this pressured time what's been especially helpful is the creativity of others ... and most recently it has been Brooke Waggoners music. I've always worked well with music playing, and in this case the quirky and quizzical lyrics were a delightful distraction to break the single minded focus. One of the less opaque songs touched explicitly on our universal and internal desire to create:
For the last few weeks I've been immersed in addressing a singular and pressing demand while trying to keep pace with the multitude of passing hooks vying for attention. My consequent jelly-like wobbles have distorted perspectives. However, throughout this pressured time what's been especially helpful is the creativity of others ... and most recently it has been Brooke Waggoners music. I've always worked well with music playing, and in this case the quirky and quizzical lyrics were a delightful distraction to break the single minded focus. One of the less opaque songs touched explicitly on our universal and internal desire to create:
And I don't know why I write this
And scratch it on the back of your books
Yeh I don't know why I sketch you
And waste it on the edge o' ya looks
I don't know why I plant these
And fashion them from slices of earth
I guess I'm slave to the spirit
Of needing to create and give birth
And scratch it on the back of your books
Yeh I don't know why I sketch you
And waste it on the edge o' ya looks
I don't know why I plant these
And fashion them from slices of earth
I guess I'm slave to the spirit
Of needing to create and give birth
So I'm picking up the virtual pen again, and trying and realign the distortion of recent weeks. (There's a special hell waiting for whoever decided that rapid technological communication = a legitimate demand for equally rapid productivity.)
However, as even an ugly tree knows only how to draw from the soil and produce leaves, so you and I are formed to be creative -- stifle it and we suffer painful distortions to what we were made to be.
However, as even an ugly tree knows only how to draw from the soil and produce leaves, so you and I are formed to be creative -- stifle it and we suffer painful distortions to what we were made to be.
Lyrics quoted from "Come Love, See My Hands" on the "Heal for the Honey" album, by Brooke Waggoner