Writing in Circles

After the protests.

A Bearded Iris from my front yard. I think.

I don’t want to write about politics or protests.

I don’t want to write about murder or assassinations.

I don’t want to write about war or fascism or what the hell is wrong with people.

I want to, instead, write about hope.

About waking up to a little Boston Terrier sharing my pillow.

About the baby rabbits that bound through my front yard and feast on my new-to-me hostas.

About the friendships that keep me moving through texts and messaged memes and shared bottles of Big Salt.

I want to write about the creative process, and how it is just that, a process. Whether it’s visual art or writing, it’s the learning, the revision, the accepting that makes it worth it.

I want to write about the incredible work I saw at an art festival this past weekend. The clear candles, the delicate earrings, the jaw-dropping donut shaped orange vase.

There is evil, and then there is good. And there are ups and downs and backs and forths.

Those negative feelings will wander away at some point, just like the positive ones. It’s remembering that life is about balance. Somedays your glass will be half-empty, other days it will be overflowing.

This morning, as my fingers tap tap tap at my keyboard I can hear the birds greeting the morning. Cardinals, and crows and ruby-bellied robins. The daily rain has given them an abundance of worms, who in turn have made them plump and happy.

I don’t have any earth-shattering knowledge to share today. Just slow down. Pet a dog. Read a book. Turn off the TV. Put your phone down.

There’s a great big world out there that needs you. Especially now.