Sunday thoughts about rest and shepherds, passion and purpose.
When God found me wandering in the wastelands, I took His hand and followed Him to the wide and wonderful countryside called Creativity. Grateful, willing, astonished I am as I sheepishly prance through the lush grounds where imagination sparks ideas, where the deep satisfaction of making the mark amazes me daily. Now, I share inspirational ideas I've learned to boost others' confidence and help free up their creative voices. My quest is to find every "little lamb" who needs encouragement. When I work with children, I marvel at their innate pull toward artistic development. When I work with adults, I smile at the joys they "know" when they are free to create and express their essence. In my workshop, Collage For A Woman's Soul, often launches avocations, changes outlooks, brings hope to the weary mom, the mid life grandmother.
Why is it vital to be free in our art making--in our lives, in our shepherding?
Why must we sizzle and dazzle as we sling paint and purpose in our creative lives? Why must we make a playful plan, (a prototype) and then toss it away and retrieve it or sit on it, stand on it, embrace it.
Should we let zany, outrageous ideas grab our attention and rattle through our sweaty heads when the bills pile up, or the crusts of yesterday snap under our feet The guilty pleasures of creating get in the way, yet, . . . a good way. Yea we say when we snatch an hour and make it our own - to paint with abandonment, write with a fancy for fantasy. So, though we carve out paths that begin and end with our painterly studios in mind, we must behave at times and dance with our duties AND our daydreams.
It's good to journal our days with dots and jots that yearn to breathe upon the page. It's imperative to pump from the well of fresh, clear thinking. Open a box of Crayons and change the course of your life, swipe a paint-filled brush across a wide canvass and renew a lost dream. The refreshing from the ever-flowing springs of imagination frees us to serve our High and Masterful Muse.
In the future, let's chat about how to gift our world with our craft, the art that sings and dances, calms and alarms. The blog world invites us ramble and rant, meander through cyberspace, so I type and wonder, pray and hope these words find a home in a few open hearts who, like me, adore words and wonderment. I am eager and willing to blog away when I have an audience, though it be only an audience of One. My God never seems to mind if I go on and on about my passion for all things artful. He's such an good listener. Making sense of making art is every artist's chore. Yet making art is every artist's highest joy. "Take up thy brush and paint," quips my shepherding friend and mentor. Quite an admonition for one bent on all things artful, don't you think?
WHEN THE LAMBS LIE DOWN
"Sleep my fold, my little lambs
For in your dreams and streams of thought
You find your fears relieved
You know you're safe from harm
My staff of love will comfort you under the starlit sky.
A nearing stream sings lullabies, I join them in song and sigh
If by chance you wander off to meadows wide where angels fear to tread, I'll rescue you
Or if you stumble, fall into a darkened cave, I shall search until I find you
And gather you in my arms, I will
My staff of love will comfort you."
In the light of day, you roam and role through the shadowed fields
Then again in the moon-fed hours before the sun refilled the cup of morning, you lie down, you lie down in peace with the shepherdess nearby, always nearby.
It's there in the soft folds of the rolling hills, you,
at daybreak,you awake to find your shepherdess looking about her flock
counting each one with the eyes of a mother rounding up her brood for breakfast.
"Here little one," she whispers as she lifts the tiny lost lamb to her heart
You mustn't wander far lest you get lost again or tangled in an unruly vine
I will carry you through the day's journey to keep you safe and in peace, my little one
When the lambs lie down I will place you back into the fold
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