Life is Art

There is beauty in the mundane. It is real. It is alive and it is in your face, yet sometimes we miss it all together. It’s easy to overlook the small and the so called insignificant; those everyday things we see all the time. The big picture can be looking us right in the eye, obscuring our vision as to the seemingly unimportant details. And it is in those details; intrinsic little flourishes that sit undetected in the plain open. It is that we must endeavor to see which makes the best art. 

Optimistic Sunflower and Bee. Credit N.L McKinley

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This art that is life. It is all around us.

 

 

 

 

Free Spirit Sara By N.L McKinley

 

 

Whatever we seek in our hearts our eyes will find. Generally the experiences we have in life live up to our expectations. Life is beautiful when we can see beauty in it. Each moment is a masterpiece unto itself. A wondrous snapshot framed by time passing from the all powerful now into into the fondness of  memory.

 

 

Sky Pictures by N.L McKinley

Art engages the senses. It interests, it entertains, it delights and at times makes us think. It teaches us about ourselves and the world around us. Art makes us feel.  Art is life and life is art. It is anywhere and everywhere one looks for it. I have seen it in a flower that dare sprout in a crack in the sidewalk  and in the way the shadows of the maple leaves dance across my bedroom wall.  Art is contained  in the laughter of a friend, the optimism of a child and the smile of a stranger.

Art  dwells in the caws of the crows on a Sunday morning in May. It is the way the light shines in through the front window and straight into my eyes in the morning and just how good a cup of black coffee smells and tastes.  It’s “Ventura Highway” blaring on my neighbors radio outside and  Mario the cat sitting in the windowsill taking it all in stride.

There he is! Mario my famous cat in all his glory.

 

 

Art is the perfect toasted cheese sandwich, a cold glass of milk with a shiny red apple. Art is saying “I Love You” for the one millionth time and meaning it all the more.

It is out there just waiting to be appreciated…to be felt…to be acknowledged and embraced…to be lived.

 

♥

Nancy

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Credit: Public Domain

 

 “Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets.”

~Oscar Wilde

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 Artistic Sounds ala YouTube

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Norah Jones – If I were a painter

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Starry Starry Night-Don Mclean

My Colorful Imagination. in Colored pencil by N.L McKinley

 

 

 

Moments

 

 

 One moment bleeds into the next
Moment
Bringing with it nothing
Leaving behind nothing
Only existing inside this one fragment in time
Try to hold it in your grasp and its gone
With a whisper

 

 

Life is made of moments, each one slipping into the next in an endless cascade that ripples like a wide sea. Currents toss us this way and that, we are passengers on a great journey, a journey through time and space; through the moments that make up our existence.

Our lives are framed by these fragments of time. We are shaped but what occurs in each frame in succession, each effecting the next and so on unto infinity or…?  What we do today creates our tomorrow. So much can happen in the span of a scant moment; each one leads us to the next and before you know it, time has passed. There have been instances in my life when one moment mattered so much. It’s funny; seldom do you have the luxury of knowing which of these moments will be that one until it is right on top of you.

We’ve all had those pivotal moments in our lives. In my experience they seem to occur in slow motion, every action elongated, every nuance multiplied. There is no time to think in these moments, seemingly so.  I suppose instinct comes into play here, our body has an intelligence all its own and can react before we can….our heart knows…

I  think for the most part at least part of us knows the answer on how to react or not react to life’s little surprises. There is a trust involved and sometimes we don’t trust ourselves when we should.  At least that is what I do. For all my advice and proselytizing regarding listening to one’s inner voice, I have myself at times ignored it and carried on like my conscience was silent… as if my psyche wasn’t speaking to me; whispering glorious and not so glorious truths in those quiet moments of reflection.

There have been times I have buried revelations behind a thick wall of willing indecision, trying to put off the inevitable…there have been plenty of moments lost to fear of misstep, misfortune or just plain falling flat on my face.

And so I hide from these important moments which require the important decisions. Maybe that means I hide from life too. Perhaps I pick the safest moments; the ones that require the least risk.

 

I know what I would say about that…

These are moments I will never get back. I only have so many.  It may be time to take my advice and not just listen but act.

Points to ponder as the moments pass…

Have an excellent day!

♥

Nancy

 

 

“When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back.” 
― Paulo Coelho 

 

 

 

Like a wanton criminal seize the moment. Take it. Make it yours to the fullest. Don’t look back. Yesterday is over and tomorrow has not yet begun, there is no guarantee there will be a tomorrow–neither exist.  There is only now.

 

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Related You Tube

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Van Halen – Right Now 

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Eminem: Lose Yourself   

A Non Writing Writer

 

“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.”

~Franz Kafka

 

 

How can I call myself a writer? I ask myself as I skip past my blog (this one) and head straight on to Facebook for a healthy helping of scrabble, inspirational gobbledygook, silliness and chat.  This has become a pattern as of late; a pastime I engage in to distract myself from the reality that I am a writer that is not writing.

I am stuck. Jumbled is the best way I can describe it.  A million thoughts vie for my attention; some are glorious, some are grand, some are damn insecure and most are unfinished. Just like my writing–just like me.

Time is a funny thing; when I was younger it seemed to be there was so much of it.  I couldn’t wait for it to pass so I could do this or that. There was an abundance of time and I could afford to waste it. So I did….and then life gets in the way…funny again how  THAT happens and so here we are and here I am in my mid forties and what have I done?  Not a whole hell of a lot…

 

…for myself anyway…for my dreams and my hopes. There was always someone first. This is not unusual. It is the reality of being a parent; sometimes your dreams have to rest on the back burner for a while. I understand that and I embraced the hell out of it, spending many years as a stay-at-home mom. You never ever get that time back and I am glad I was able to do it but this has set me back career-wise quite a bit.

 

I always thought in the back of my mind that writing would “save” me someday; from the reality…the drudgery of every day life…writing has always been my salvation.

I have spent countless hours alone; just me with pen and paper. I would pour my heart and soul out and never dare show anyone what I had  written. Writing was my only confidant, my only true friend. Every hurt…and every joy and everything in between was  recorded in one way or another.

I have grown dependent on this mode of expression to get my feelings out. It is like breathing to me and when I don’t write I slowly suffocate…

Once in a while I get blocked. We all do. Many, I think run out of ideas on what to write, this has never been a problem for me… quite the opposite.  I can think of a million things to write. My brain is like a radio receiver and most of the time I can pick up one station at a time and focus. This is the perfect spot for me; I am in “the zone” and at my most  happiest.
On rare occasions it’s as if all the stations are on at the same time. I can’t focus on just one.  I’ve learned not to worry at this point. I’ve been here before and I have learned just to walk away and do something else.

The words cannot be forced and neither can my passion. I have to be passionate about whatever I write or really what is the point? I am finding out. I must be true to myself and my convictions. I cannot sugarcoat my feelings or concentrate my focus on silly feel-good trite. I must speak my mind and not worry about upsetting someone.

I have been guilty of all of the above…and life is too damn short for this.

 

It is almost midnight. The back door is open and a cool breeze wafts in ever so slightly, my tea is warm and I am smiling–life is pretty good.
I don’t need all the answers. I don’t need to be perfect and I don’t think anyone expects me to be. So I’m going to focus on being me a little more and not being someone else. This Strawberryindigo thing…I don’t know. I may drop the silly name and be….me; Nancy.

I can’t force this, I think I will take life as it comes for a while and see where that leads me…

 

 

 

Where is that? I don’t know but I do know I must keep on writing. It’s like riding a bike and here I am back on the bike baby pedaling like crazy.

I have missed you all here in the blogosphere. I feel like a kid who has been out of school for an extended absence and now I am back. I am out on the playground and it feels good to be here!

 

♥

Nancy

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“Writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers.” 
~Charles Bukowski

 

 

 

PS:  Whoever sent me the Kafka quote. Thanks for the reminder. I needed it.  I want you to know that it is one of my favorites and so are you!

 

 

Related YouTube

 

DEMONS by Imagine Dragons

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Liberace Typewriter Song