Returned from the Mist

Snowy Tracks (Jan '13)

I've been on a 3 year hiatus (to the month) from this blog.  2010 was a rough year... 2 very beloved, young people lost; chronic illness evolved from nuisance to life changing; economic woes continued to grow; and, the ability to deal with it all diminished to an all-time low.  Since then, we've said good-bye to a long-time furry friend, and both of my husband's grandmothers.  One of the hardest transformations was the conscious letting-go of dreams I've held dear for a decade.  The realization that people and situations change, and with it, our perceived goals must evolve.

I've spent the evening re-reading my previous posts.  What was originally intended as a photography/artistic blog morphed suddenly into a catalog of one catastrophic blow after another.  The world was becoming darker and despite my efforts to capture the beauty around me... my Muse withdrew.

"End of the Tracks"

In the last three years, I've still gone on my photographic expeditions - but less and less frequently.  I've showered myself in tubs of beautiful and unique beads... and created some lovely jewelery.  Most of my glittery stock sits quietly in a corner - wishing I would return to contemplate their colors and textures again.  I've picked up a yarn addiction -- my husband despairs at the SIX giant totes of natural and funky (but manmade) fibers.  I do spend a lot of time surrounded by my hooks and colorful skeins, but even that hasn't  corralled  my attention at suitable levels.

But now - I think it is the time to emerge from where I've been sequestered, and reach for the light of my Muse.  I don't know if she'll take the form of photography, or written word, or painting, or sculpting, or beading, or crochet... or something entirely different.  I do know, that I am happier and feel more "whole" when my Muse travels with me.

Times are still tough.  My health is still fragile and unpredictable.  My job is still  unfulfilling.  People I love keep dying.  Politics continue to manifest in grotesque parodies of what they are supposed to be.  Mean people still suck.  But my Muse and I need to reconnect.  And grow.  And find that bliss that can only be found within one's self and through one's expression.

So... I'm back.  Returned from the mist, like a mysterious and wearied traveler.  Older, grayer, jaded and suspicious - but, perhaps also a little wiser, capable of compassion and sympathy, and genuinely searching for the meaning of "my" life and living it with purpose.

"SAM"  (Seattle Art Museum)