We’ve run out of milk for coffee, that’s not a good thing.
The itch to create has already started to nag at me. It’s building and brewing inside. When we first arrived in Montezuma we stopped at a hotel on the beach to get directions to our house. Behind the desk was a woman, who I believe was American that was painting on some sort of bark. Simple paintings. Fish, mermaids, waves and water…no masterpieces, but beautiful. I don’t know if she was painting for profit or for fun or both.
I did not bring my supplies with me on this leg of the trip, on purpose. Break time. I felt creatively drained at the time. The juices had run dry and anything I would have produced after the drought began would have been forced. Forced creating equals crap. It doesn’t generate new juice nor does it generate a new found motivation. When it’s dry – it’s dry. Step away from the brushes.
With being present in my surroundings, being present with my guy, my reserve tank has been filled. I wasn’t even paying attention, and now it’s about to over-flow! I will take out my sketch book/journal and begin to poke a few holes in the dyke to relieve some of the pressure.
Kimball, Lawrence’s life long friend and my new friend, is practicing Tai Chi – which is the most peaceful, serene movements to watch. Graceful, mindful and delicate. Each movement seems effortless, yet it is not. Each movement has intent…intent that I have no knowledge of.
The sun is beginning to make its way through the clouds. Time to shower – and go into town. Coffee without cream is like taking a shit and not wiping. Feels wrong and dirty.