It has become the single most fulfilling activity in my life. For the first time maybe ever, I am jotting down ideas for photos. Something is compelling me to record all of these ideas in one place so that I can turn it into something later. I used to think journals were just for writing some long, drawn-out poem or release dribble. Now, I realize it's there for whatever pops in my head. I don't have to think about it....it just flows and I look at it later and feel inspired and transported to exactly the place I was I decided it was beautiful enough to write it down. Just one-liners. Filling a million pages. Giving me the fuel I need to create something larger than myself.
Sometimes, I feel like my son is missing out on me. I get so entrenched in creativity lately that I withdraw from him. Interestingly enough, though, he seems more at peace with spending more time with himself. Last night, he completely obliterated my kitchen, but I didn't care. He is living his life and exploring the things that will make him who he is. I see so much of my spirit in him that I can't help but let him be exactly who he is. The best gift my parents ever gave me was teaching me to be content while I am alone.
But I digress.
Here, at this very moment, serenaded by my sweet Ray and hypnotized by the crickets that have decided this unseasonably warm February 4th evening is good enough for them to sing me a song, I feel exactly like I am in the middle of a Bradbury novel. Alone, but oh so very content with being alone. Because, I am not alone. I will always have two Rays to keep me company.
