small sojourns

In Julia Cameron's book The Artist's Way, she emphasizes taking time for an "artist's date" with oneself. Which is exactly what I did yesterday. Having spent two days dithering at my desk, shuffling papers, paying bills, starting to declutter and hopelessly sinking into cluttery depths, I was desperate to get out. I'd been reading Eric Maisel's books A Writers Paris and A Writer's San Francisco (I love both places) and I recognize that like a lot of other people I put obstacles in my way - they may be practical and responsible but do not lead to production. He wrote, "I need to write because I have a soul" and "the soul demands immortality and a feast and all a mortal can do is bring it a peach." So, ignoring my To Do list, I left the house early and spent several hours writing at Wired cafe, outside under a shady tree, at a cool table near a gushing yet tranquil fountain. The water's sound effectively drowned out the conversations around me and I was able to work again. The day was partly cloudy, soft breeze, no smoke, temps around 80. Perfetto!

Afterwards, I took a short walk in the neighborhood and came upon these lushly symmetrical evergreens that reminded me of pastel paintings I've seen by Wolf Kahn - or an English garden which I haven't seen.

At home I finished the pair of socks (old story) that were abandoned a few months ago and unearthed recently. Opal cotton blend (no label). Subtle color, soft, lightweight (I believe that Opal makes the best cotton blend sock yarn by far). I'll send them to my granddaughter as she tries to heal.

...we are flesh and blood creatures living in this or that hut or palace. Place matters. (Eric Maisel)