I had forgotten what it felt like to dream. I could not feel that flutter of joy that once kept me on fire. I stopped running and I just stood in the breeze. I want a life full of integrity and light for the practice of the pursuit. I had to ignite my creative practice.
I rose with the dark and typed against candlelight. A reminder of island days in Bali when the world was full of adventure and dreams were always on the menu. It is not the place that makes the dream it is the person.
Grit, joy and perseverance all blend into the painting we make with these days. My hands and mind were tight to type. But as I pushed through the midpoint it became easier to post a new message renewed. The dream does not show up for you, it is you who shows up to the dream.