No insight; just sight

I want to talk about the oppression of details, and how I feel after I put the little flier together on my computer at home, then drive over to the office and add some stuff from the files on the computer there, and then go across the street to the copy shop and explain and re-explain how the thing I e-mailed over is supposed to work, and then make a last minute decision to go with the blue paper because the color copies of the green came out a terrible yellow.

And doing that took four hours.

And it was only one thing on my list.

 

And my home is a riot of different projects not so much finished as stopped, cut off - so that others can come to life. My beautiful studio room has lumps of clothes and sheets of music from here to eternity and I pick my way through it with stunted circus pony steps – lifting my hooves up high and putting them down carefully, but without much grace.

And this evening I stepped down on a piece of cloth at just the right angle to slide my leg out 3 feet in front of me.

 

And the way this Economy has come to life as a connecting force. All of us juggling who gets paid what when. Inch by inch calculations. Some days making a decision whether or not to buy a $4 cup of coffee.

 

And all the rubble generated by my desires. The more debris I’m creating, the more obvious is the impulse to let go of it. I’m making my own sea to swim through, leaving the thousand bobbing things in my wake. And the surprise is this - the subtle motion beneath is more present than the lists and packages and charts and timelines floating on top. The brilliant depth of light and motion beneath; the clear joyous impulse of life.