Christmas looming and I’m still back in October. I just get stuck there every year. I love days in October when the wind is blustering about and stirring up leaves and making a mess of the world. It reminds me of my mind. Those days late in October when large quantities of leaves come down from the trees like rain I’ll just sit on the front porch to work soaking up this rare kind of day. I smile at all the folks that seem moved to rake up all these fallen leaves as fast as possible. It’s like that chaotic mass of little multicolored objects all scattered across the yards, piling up in the corners of our world and creating nesting places for the brown recluse spider are just too much of a reminder how little control we have.
We like to believe we are masters over this earth, capable of bringing this mighty planet to its knees when the truth is everything and I mean just about anything going on inside and outside in our lives; is out of control. Chaos is part of the natural order of things and who are we to disturb that beautiful chaos of fall thinking that when the yard is all cleaned up, every leaf tucked away in its eco-friendly bag set out at the curb on Monday as yard waste for the trash pickup fellows, that we are any closer to order in our lives than we were before all that effort was spent.
We are fairly powerless really where just about everything is concerned. My advice is not to worry about the external trappings of life but rather seek the internal peace that comes from living a life where paying it forward, humility and quiet are the norm.
As an artist it’s in those quiet moments that I just might possibly glimpse a bit of what’s real in the universe.
peace..
PS – the free tip of the day: After you’ve written a part of your next great american novel, use a program on your computer to “speak” it to you. Listen closely and you’ll be amazed how hearing the writing lends an amazing perspective and an opportunity to fix all those nasty little writing quarks that drive editors (and readers) nuts. Remember, these are stories and stories are meant to be heard.
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