Lo, the sun just blasted through my study window as I wrote that sentence; no kidding, it never comes in here. What are you doing, wayward beam? This is my dark hidey hole and now I feel so exposed.
Sometimes I fall into thinking creative juices go like this: coffee, kombucha, water, wine. And with my regular supply I wonder why this doesn’t turn out. Then one day my gut reacts to something I read or see or hear and I remember that fortification with a thing esoteric, aesthetic, absurd, or plain inspirational is the elixir of mind that enters the body as real energy, and that creative juices feel like something, a must-do-ness relief of forward motion.
There are so many places I could put a harp.
What a beautiful thought! An aeolian harp would have been lovely here this evening; the Oklahoma wind blowing and the orange/red sunset in the distance. Lovely post.
Oh, thank you! I know, I often think of doing it, and then when I have the chance I forget.