I read two posts by Debbie over at Artful Inspirations this morning. Immediately I knew that she was writing about what was troubling me, what was churning quietly around inside.
For the first time ever in my married life, I have neither little children nor a full-time job to occupy me.
I feel restless. Debbie's posts talk about the calm of the sea. I love that.
There's also the mesmerizing calm that comes from watching fire.
The peace of the sea is not adequate to my unquiet. It calms me for a moment. God calms the raging soul and, with faith, can keep it placid and content all its life.
That was a few months ago. I wonder what will be born this time? I know I have to feed this creativity with the right nourishment, the right ideas, the right experiences and things to look at. The right conversations.
Election-year politics is not it. Personal wranglings, family troubles and natural disasters are not it. If you wonder why artists and writers tend to remove themselves from things that others find important, this is why. They must be careful what they feed the soul, because it is the reservoir of the new, emerging created thing. If that doesn't make sense to you, that's okay. It barely makes sense to me.
I don't write when I work full-time outside the home. I only write worthwhile material when I'm at home, ruminating, vaguely bothered that I'm not working. Rather bothered that I'm not yet writing either. If I write less here, sometimes soon, you'll know it's because I'm using my words elsewhere. Let's hope so!