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| Wednesday, June 14, 2006 |
| the art in my head |
 The past couple of weeks I've felt a little differently about the world and my life. There is art in my head and my heart and my soul. Art that is feeling stiffled by the demands of society. Art that longs to bask in a sunbeam and dream and write and paint. Art that sees things in black & white and in forms. I don't usually write about personal things in my blog, but this won't let me go. It won't let me rest.
Tangled up inside of me is a complex web of emotions. I've felt them very close to the surface for a few weeks. They are like that meniscus bubble atop a very full glass where one more drop from the outside will send them tumbling down over the edge. They can spill out at any time without warning. And though this does have mostly sad connotations, it's been my whole range of emotions that sits so precariously perched.
I found my eyes welling up at the mere thought of sad things and the corners of my mouth stretching with the happy. I've felt a need to spend time with certain friends and to hold close precious children in my life. Increasingly intense are the emotions connected to things I long for in my life, my desires, hopes, dreams. Tugging on me from inside my chest.
I've wanted to fight all of these things. Wanted to continue life as "usual". In trying, I have found myself alone in my house in the middle of the day crying over no immediate situation. It's like I'm on overload and the breaker blows, gets reset and I can go about my day again until it is tripped again. So today I start a new kind of quest, to find the answers to some of my yearnings, to more fully enjoy life, to get out of a rut, to stretch my wings. |
posted by Jen @ 10:23 PM   |
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| 1 Comments: |
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I hear ya.
Thank you for being so real, Jen. It helps me to be the weirdly-wired person I am too, without questioning its inconvenience as much. Imagine if we were people without these instincts to stop, to wait, to feel the depths and heights? I -
well I might not say this every day -
but I don't know if I would trade this for that.
love you always!
Christy
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I hear ya.
Thank you for being so real, Jen. It helps me to be the weirdly-wired person I am too, without questioning its inconvenience as much. Imagine if we were people without these instincts to stop, to wait, to feel the depths and heights? I -
well I might not say this every day -
but I don't know if I would trade this for that.
love you always!
Christy