red

my creative self has lived in a black hole for about a year and a half now. from a running injury taking me off the road and out of my body, to a twist in a relationship taking me into dark woods, nothing has escaped the consequences. from my painting, to my the living sculpture of my home space, to my words i used to write here, everything has come silently and almost imperceptibly to a stand still. inertia you sneaky thing, you, slipping in the backdoor while i was listening to the many other things in my life that make a lot of noise: finish this, accomplish this, edit this, photograph this, pay this, work this, work this, work this.

my life has become an endless horizon of to-do lists running before me, taunting me with a speed my injured body cannot manage, succeeding in distracting me from the things i want most above everything: to feel whole and sound while i stand still, connecting to something greater than myself, listening to it passing through me, hearing each throbbing beat leave an echo that my every pulse will answer, my every breath expanding in an attempt to consume it. that bursting stillness. that quivering silence. that moment before creation and the sweet rush as it begins, followed eventually by the quiet satisfaction of completion. that is the thing i have been missing. 

and perhaps it is now inertia that has become my friend, pulling me down just far enough past unbearable that suddenly everything absolutely must change. of course it could just be the weather,  external circumstances, or my expanding waistline {gratis of a car accident preventing me from working out entirely}, but life is converging once again and suddenly i'm alive to its many tolerably painful places and it's beyond me how i'm waking up again so far from anything that looks even remotely like my art.

a fresh red dress has been purchased, new photos of it are on the horizon, and i am held accountable, in weekly increments, for pulling myself into motion again. my body is finally healing nearly 6 months after a car accident, and my mind and spirit are keeping track with the changes {which is only fair since they were the ones to push their soft machine sister forward in the first place}.

warm sunny skies are lighting the way though my words are slow and clunky. but i'm here. i'm here. i'm here.

i can almost see the colors again.

red, you always were my friend.