Tamborine

I haven't written in a while.  I've had a momentary lapse of reasoning to say the least.  I took my top hat off, put away my thinking machine and just kind of fell vacant for a moment. We're allowed, aren't we?  Please,  answer me blogging friends from across the land of laptops, monitors and ipads....we can stop when we want to right????  Well whether it is of blogging protocol or not, I took a sabbatical.  I can't tell you why, or even if it was necessary, but my soul needed a reboot.  You know, that feeling.  An immediate need to clean out the creative storage space; dust a few things off, move a few pieces here and there, and reconfigure the layout.   My thoughts just weren't flowing. I must say though, after taking some time away, I am now realizing that although breaks are nice (especially the ones that plop you down on a nice blanket of sand, stretch out the soul and give you wind blown hair) they can also bring on a sense of emptiness.  I don't enjoy emptiness, in any form.   I participate in an active existence, constantly surrounding myself with people and embracing movement.  Empty is just.....well, boring.  So, here I sit, back in the ever rambling snapshot of life's images, merrily making my mark back to my place of writing.
Interestingly enough, during my sabbatical of nothingness I still found myself delightfully inspired.  There is just so much zing out there.  Life's full frontal, pulp and seeds, gut of the earth inspiration still crept its way through my bones, and in the end, yanked me out of my funk and pierced my thoughts into motion.  I found myself to BE a canvas.  The world around me splashing it's colors in my thirsty direction.  Its all out there, waiting to be seen, even if your not looking for it. Among these boisterous exclamations was an art fair I paroozed, a much needed vacation to Florida and of course, the everyday expressions of design that seem to find my wandering eye at the perfect moment..  But most importantly, I stumbled upon a fabulous book called Just Kids.  The book, I will tell all of you, is a masterpiece.  If any of you out there have a love for art, feather jewelry and bell bottoms, bob Dylan or the electric age of rock n roll, you will love, love, did I mention LOVE this book.  Just Kids.  Patty Smith.  An epic tale that describes an era dripping with genre in it's most beautiful of forms.  Pages filled with stories of having lived, and I mean truly lived; witnessing our cultures desperation and desire to break free.  It is the true, tell tale story of friendship, art and beauty, war and peace, love and understanding.  A dedication, to the music freaks, the dreamers, those who whole heartedly danced at Woodstock, arms waving, dancing through air, feeling the sap of innocence drip mightily off their dirt filled fingernails.  The re-creation of a scene, giving a voice to the walls of The Chelsea Hotel or a face to the likes of Andy Warhol and his Nico. A beautifully bold vision of those surrendering their fear, as they put trust into the artists that moved them, allowing themselves to question the overpowering idea of one road leads to everything.  This moment in time brought forth a reckoning of the senses, a creative conundrum of possibility surrounded by the lives of artists and musicians like Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane.  This is inspiration in it's truest of forms.  So to you Miss Patti Smith, thank you.  You have brought me back, head dizzy with excitement, encouraging me to feel inspired again.  And god I do.  I so so do.  And on the rodeo goes my friends....the mellow hum and honey of Dylans voice echoing off my walls and the tap tap tap of my words a blazing.