There’s a stillness in the air and an unease to go with it. I’m sure most of us can feel something’s coming and fuck knows what it is but it feels big. The release feels big. Something new, something needed and it feels we are just waiting patiently tending to whatever we need to which is drawing us right into ourselves into our much needed caves.
Though beneath the stillness it feels chaotic and there’s an anxiety building but a knowing to go with it. The knowing that we are being pushed to do our thing whatever that thing is. It feels like the fire of why we’re here is being pushed up to be finally manifested in the physical. Some of us know what that is. Some of us know only part of it and some of us can feel it but have no fucking clue as to what it is.
Either way it’s coming.
I can’t seem to paint which is what I usually do through spaces like this because I love to utilise the energy of what I’m feeling and usually what I paint I can see or feel what is possibly coming through my canvas. But that’s not working. Clay maybe a goer which I will try tomorrow but the only self soothing and productive thing to do right now is writing. Between work and the garden this is the only thing that speaks. I’ve found a flow that I haven’t felt with writing before.
I chose to fuck off any criticism I have had around writing and I have had a shit load but at the end of the day it is creativity and it is a form of communication two things that the world needs, two things I need. Whether my words get read or not, the only thing that matters is that I’m putting it into form and me the writer is accessing a flow within myself that matters greatly in a world gone fucking mad.
It’s giving me a sense of peace and a knowing, actually it’s growing both and how fucking interesting that my creative flow has taken this medium which for some reason feels important to where I’m going to which I have no idea but it feels good and I’m trusting what I do not know.
I’m slowly building new work and I’m sharing and exercising some of that energy (link below) while also writing the website and pages of a book that’s been in slow progression over the last year.
Writing, writing, writing – link —> She of the Wild
Thank fuck for creativity.