I should draw better than I do by now.  But as I look at this, my art, I smile.  It is teaching me something.  It taps into a part of my soul that has been left unattended for too long.  I remember him.  He was a sweet shy thing, curious and loving.  They called him cute and he would cover his shyness with a wide toothy grin and bright shining brown eyes.  Where this crooked smile I wear now came from I don’t know.  I much prefer the other.  I thought of him the other day when one of my new friends made a gracious comment about something I had written here.  Out of nowhere and most unexpected, I found myself grinning like he used to.  No self-consciousness just beaming bright, turned on.  I used to draw pictures in my mother’s kitchen.  I would sit on the floor with my paper making marks with crayons.   And she would pick out the best and attach it to her refrigerator with a magnet.  I liked that a lot.

I came to this blogging thing with some hope that I might have something to say or that maybe I should be a writer or something.  Or that, if nothing else it would be a place to put the scattered thoughts and ideas and feelings that were given little attention for decades. Was not thought out.  I had no business plan.  No serious psychological or philosophical underpinning to guide my way.   It was an instinctual impulse arising out of desperation. I still don’t even know how to do most of what is required to have a “serious” or important blog.   But here I am.

You see, I had become quite competent and clever and serious about life and managing the many roles I was playing.  Doing OK, playing the game, successful (whatever that means).  But there was always this thing in the back of my soul that would well up from time to time.  It seemed to whisper to me, I guess trying to get my attention.  It was never really clear just an ill-defined longing, some deeply felt dissatisfaction, a sweet grief that has been with me through these five+  decades.  I had an answer for it that stayed just out of conscious reach.  It was something like “When I get all this other done then maybe I can do what I want to do, or at least find out what the hell that might be.”  And it would pass amid all the outside important business that called for my attention.  Well, let me suggest to you that was not a good policy. 🙂   Apparently if one does not listen to their soul’s whispering to them, She will get louder and louder and finally She’s gonna start breaking shit.  At least that is what happened in my case.  The message I am getting from Her lately is to ” sit my young ass down and start coloring again, and be quiet while you are doing it.”  She can be a little bitchy when I am being stupid.  She has my attention now.  She has put her foot down.  Scary huh?  I bet you would draw too.

I have been thinking about my writing and my art or, whatever word might work.  And I have come to the conclusion that I need to keep that picture in my mind when I create.  No $500 fountain pens or Moleskin journals for me.  I only want typing paper and crayons (not printer paper).  That’s my speed, and my medium.   I have decided now that I do not want to be a writer.  But I will write.  I will bite my tongue as I concentrate and try real, real hard to form the letters of the words I am trying to say.   I will write with my crayons and offer them up to you.  If you like you can put some of it on your refrigerator.   And when you do know that I will feel a little shy and will cover it with a sweet wide grin and there will be a bright light shining from my eyes.  Be Groovy! 🙂