On We Go

I wonder what I would draw today, were I to follow the steps Betty Edwards describes in Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain for creating analog drawings of abstract ideas or emotions.

I might draw a crossroads, though that feels puzzling to have just typed. I foresee no change of job and am not organized enough at the moment for a house purchase. I don't have large questions hanging in front of me with audiences rapt for an answer. But then, I might not draw about me.

I might draw a blank, all puns intended. I am tired, that's for darned sure. I have had twelve months of crazypants, if I may borrow the clever term from the glamourblogs of knittinglore. I have a lot I want to do, wish to do, and still must do in this transition from spring to summer. Finding it hard to start today. And then, I might not draw about things to do.

I'd steer away from drawing the symbol or the icon: no sad face, no tear. Though an old friend of mine has died, a too-young friend, and I cried today at home as I needed, the stories to tell are not as simple as those symbols.

I'd draw, though, with purpose.

I'd draw lines full of energy. I'd draw a line which bursts into more lines, which gives new starts, which starts other tragectories. I'd draw a line which looks for new space, for new beginnings, for other fascinating and glorious lines to support, shape, embellish, and let go. I'd draw a line that let go.

I'd draw a line that would say go on: On we go!

In memoriam: Randall Wreghitt

With thanks for friendship, support, a bit of mentoring, and laughter that spanned almost 30 years.
You were a gift to many - and a great, great example to follow.
Your online status always closed with the phrase above, and it will be no surprise that your love for the theatre will go on in the work of so many you celebrated.

Sadly without you, happily for having known you, on we go.

Worn out but in awe

I consider myself quite fortunate.

I have had some amazing students. They work hard, they struggle uphill when they must, they challenge themselves, and they go extra miles.

I am exhausted right now. It has been a spring of madness on the heels of an endless winter and an overbusy fall.

I'm also looking forward to having them go away for a little while: I can't wait to have some knitting, sewing, and cleaning time for myself.

Still breathing. That is, when they don't take my breath away.

Awe, I tell you.