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Saturday, April 11, 2009

Untitled...

My heart is in the garden, my hands busy with beads and wire, my head makes lists and notes of all else that is not to be forgotten... and I wonder why my voice forgets to sing.

I miss the moments of utter peace and clarity I remember (or mis-remember) from the past, in childhood, as a student, before "Real Life." There is still joy, but I remember when music just came from inside of me and I wonder how to get it back... Maybe the peace I remember from my youth was just unawareness of the complexity and choices and value of life.

I sometimes (okay, often) criticize myself for a lack of self-awareness or self-knowledge, but maybe that's not accurate or fair. Faceted, fractured, inconstant, twisted... like a braid, maybe...

Deep thoughts for a Saturday morning... the memory of spontaneous singing... the hives keeping me out of my garden... the piles of projects in my studio... the metalwork jewelry class I need to get dressed to go to this morning...

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