All Scattering, Scattering

 

                         Everyday is a brand new day, everyday is a journey.

We take with solemn thankfulness

  Our burden up, nor ask it less,
  And count it joy that even we
  May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee,
    Whose will be done!
J. G. WHITTIER.

I love Fall with it's changing of the foliage all different shades of reds, yellows, browns. A real welcoming sight in all it's glory. Soon we have forgotten all about the Summer, the long days a mere memory, tucked away on a shelf somewhere in a dark corner.

That's life. 

I read somewhere once that people have a memory of gratitude that only lasts 3 months. I believe that's true. One could live out a good portion of their life leading a decent life and one slip, one fall into the abyss. Well, we forget about that decent life lived and only remember the fall. 

Why do we do that? Why do we cast aside the people who have fallen? We do not know how to minister to them. Instead, we wash our hands not wanting to be tainted by what they have done. We preach redemption. We preach forgiveness. We preach as long as it is from the safety of our pews. 

People come and go, just as the leaves fall, scattered on the ground for the wind to pick up. Where will they go? How far will they scatter? What ground will they disintegrate into dust?

There are reasons why we are at any given point in time. Sometimes, that reason does not become clear until a new journey begins. All topsy curvy, all out of bounds in sanity and sense. The old leaves just keep scattering and scattering finding a place to rest. Blowing from place to place looking for that final home. 

Have a blessed day everyone. 

Bringing Back The Creativity

 

                               Everyday is a brand new day, everyday is a journey.

Lord, with what courage and delight

    I do each thing,
  When Thy least breath sustains my wing!
    I shine and move
    Like those above,
    And, with much gladness
    Quitting sadness,
  Make me fair days of every night.
H. VAUGHAN.

One can't rush the creative mind. I wish I could say that my mind was full of fresh and new ideas. Truth is, I struggled for almost two years to write anything on paper. I would stare at the blank page willing for something to come forth. What do they call this? Ah yes, writer's block. A dry spell. Losing our mojo. 

I was devastated by the dry spell I've experienced these last couple of years. I would try to figure out the why. Have I written all there was about  my life with cancer? Did the last bout with cancer, the mental trauma of radiation, affect the writing? Was I done, washed up as a writer? Maybe the lack of time?

It could have been one or all of the above. It really doesn't matter. The result was the same . . . . . I couldn't write. Lord knows I have tried to find what may have been the problem and fix it. Sometimes, there is no reason. Sometimes, we just need a rest. Perhaps, that's what happened here.

Creativity doesn't just happen, it smolders, it churns until it's ready to be shown. It all boils down to a process within us, all the life's experiences that happen to us. Art really does reflect life. When we have struggles or joys, creativity flows, because we are emitting all sorts of emotions. Emotions that need to be processed and expressed, hence the written word.

I have felt a deep need to write again probably more than ever before. It's been a long time and my soul misses it dearly. Crocheting and writing has always been my refuge in times of chaos. In this world, there is plenty of it and sometimes we become engulfed in it. It's time to declutter that chaos in my life.

Have a blessed day everyone.