You always end with a jade's trick

Im drinking sunshine through my eyes...reading Much Ado About Nothing...gazing at my dog gazing...at geese... and I am really wondering what he is thinking. Im pondering the mystery of a painting that I have left to sit on the easel..it is in time out...until it decides to be a little more open with me..it can just sit there.

I keep seeing a woman with black curly hair..long...and Im convinced that is who is trying to emerge...but somehow..I keep getting a cloudy image of a bald woman ripping the sky apart.

The Duende (read Garcia Lorca) is a cruel beast at times...but this happens to me when i paint because I haven't been doing it on a regular basis. It's like Test Anxiety or something.

all of the sudden when I get my brush in my hand....all that study..all that confidence...all of that "skill" (heh) Drains.right.out.

I have some sort of Immobilization Disorder when its my turn at the proverbial plate. I hold myself back. The only time I faced that fear and managed to really Use it was when I would be in a play all those years ago when I was a teenager. No one...Nothing..could keep me from doing it. I loved it so much..I loved it more than anything...and it gave me such a safe place to be. And it terrified me. But I loved it.

:) Painting is a frustrating alternative at times. Sometimes I want to Speak. Speak. Speak.

Energies. can be moved. thrown through different creative blood vessels.

Anxiety is just the poison i've lived with everyday of my life. Im not quite sure what those costumes and stage directions and script meetings did to comfort me....

Alas...I think what keeps me from painting well is a lack of patience. yes. I think that's it. sometimes I just can't be that still.

Im rambeling...good lord...

Its nice out there..so Im going back Out there...

Everyone Be well

Peace

Anyway.