"Flurried Dreams"- mixed media on canvas paper, 12" x 16". Ready for framing.
It's full moon Thursday. Which means I've been up since 3 a.m. Because the moon wants me to get up and play with her instead of sleeping restfully. And who am I to argue with the moon? So this little pink-haired sweetie fairly leapt off the palette this morning, sleepy headed and still dreaming of snow flurries. Her wistful countenance makes me smile.
What is it about silent snowfall that is so magical? Is it the muffled crunch of my boots as I break through the crusty top layer? Is it the hush of huge, soft snowflakes gently falling like sleeping fairies onto eyelashes and noses? And why am I contemplating snow in April in south Florida? I blame a dear friend who sent me photos of Colorado snow last week. Those images have lingered like the wobbly outlines of a snowman past his prime, one eye slipping down his cheek during the inevitable melt.
This week I've changed up my daily routine to incorporate 30 minutes of nothing. Now I know it is impossible to literally do nothing. I mean, even when we aren't away we are sleeping, breathing, creating new cells and sometimes dreaming. By "nothing", I mean sitting in one spot, gazing at whatever is around me, allowing my thoughts to go where they will. If you know me at all, you understand this is truly a herculean task! I am always doing something. But what I've learned after many days of this new practice is that my brain is truly recharged, inspired and rejuvenated after 30 minutes of cloud-gazing or watching waves. Solutions to problems appear in my head - things I might have struggled with for days, suddenly simplified. Bursts of inspiration arrive like Cinderella's carriage - decked out in fanciness and high-stepping horses. And after 30 minutes of nothingness, my body and brain both relax a gajillion percent for the rest of the day.
Now sitting for 30 minutes isn't exactly meditation. My eyes are open, my thoughts are wandering and I am not even trying to corral them! But it is something. Which, I suppose, means it isn't actually nothing. Hmmmm.
Jen Jovan and her imaJENation