Art

I notice I'm not receiving any comments on my most recent entries. Ah well, perhaps this blog is serving as a journal for me to read with wonder a year or so from now. I have shelves of journals I've written in over many many years. It's a delightful surprise when I pick one up and find poetry, thoughts, dreams, incidents, complaints and wonders that are written about. Sometimes I think, "Wow, this might be something someone else would enjoy or learn from." So now we have blogs, and anyone who so desires can share our thoughts, dreams etc. (see above). I am enjoying the process of writing and editing my own writing. I enjoy things that are well written, grammatically correct, well spelled, filled with images that spark my imagination and take me on a journey. When I read something that is poorly edited, I find myself slightly (and sometimes not so slightly) offended. This gets in the way of receiving information that could be valuable, so I tell myself to "get off it!"

Okay, this isn't what I meant to write about today. What I want to share (even if it's only with myself) is about Art.

Early this morning:
I awoke at about 5AM. The room was filled with a soft morning light. I stretched my arm up towards the ceiling and was struck by the shape of the arm, hand and fingers silhouetted against the white of the ceiling. I moved the arm, hand and fingers to moment-to-moment create new shapes. Wonder. My thought was, "This is Art. This is all that is necessary for me to be happy." And so it is. And so it was. And so it will be.