Redtree Times

Give Me Light– At Principle Gallery

Growth is a spiral process, doubling back on itself, reassessing and regrouping.

–Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way (1992)

Back in the studio this morning after returning from Friday’s opening for Flow at the Principle Gallery. It went very well, a good opening with the folks there providing plenty of energy, for which I was grateful. I might even call it a great opening, especially in comparison to this same time last year, which was the jumping off point of what I call the Year from Hell. Friday’s energy on a hot, sticky evening in Alexandria gave me hope that the coming year would be much different.

I certainly feel mentally rejuvenated even though my body is still bone tired. That, too, is a hopeful sign for me since I believe in many ways the body follows the mind.

Today I am going to try to let my body catch up with my mind. This day or two after an opening is always a time for regrouping and reevaluating, a time for readying myself for the next step. It is often a time when I am harshly and excessively self-critical, a time that finds me beating myself up a bit.

This morning, I don’t feel like doing that. It’s a nice change. Maybe that is a lesson learned in this past Year from Hell, that I shouldn’t beat myself up, knowing that the world, age, and nature don’t need my help in that task. They can manage that job on their own just fine, thank you.

That in mind, I am just going to let things flow easy this morning and take things as they came over the past few days without taking swings at myself.

Maybe that lesson is for us all?

I don’t know.

And that is perfectly okay.

Shall we just have some Sunday Morning Music from a favorite of mine, Lisa Hannigan? I think it has been at least a few years since I last played this tune but that doesn’t matter since it seems like a fine fit with the joy it finds in its awareness of not knowing. This is I Don’t Know which was recorded in a pub on Ireland’s Dingle Peninsula.

I am going to resist saying Git this morning, but you really do have to leave. My threshold for human contact has been exceeded, and I need to build up my tolerance once again.

Thank you for your understanding.

Oh, what the hell–git!