Yesterday there were cobwebs in my mind. Trying frantically to work and finish off some of my freelance projects, I was starting to feel desperate. All I really wanted to do was work on my art.
Sometimes it's as though my heart is trying to bulge out of my chest. If it did, would it bleed colors, and what would those colors be?
I went for a long walk on the beach, asking the universe for a sign. How to reconcile my creative side with the need to pay the bills? The days melt away when I try to pin it down and make time to make art or poetry.
I noticed flocks of birds out on the water. Hundres of birds black like magic, casting clouds over the bay. Moments later dozens of peacock-colored sardines wash up onto the seashore all around me, flipping fish dances in the white foam waves.
Before I know it, the sun comes out and gives water wings to fly upwards. I don't have any concrete answers, but some of the clouds in my heart gives way to the sunshine too. Whatever happens, the creative journey is never done. I'll be fine.
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