Personal Essays
The Life Cycle of an Idea
I had a lucid, clear mind one bright, deep blue skied morning after a heat wave broke. The fresh air whisked away the wet wool sensation inside my head. I sat on the porch swing with a mug of coffee and my muse was nagging at me to “create some art.”
So, I waited - a willing receptacle for inspiration. I could almost taste the experience, I reveled in the concept of creating but I couldn’t get a toe hold on an idea. I know only too well that the door to my imagination only opens when the time is right and that I must wait for it to happen.
So, I waited - a willing receptacle for inspiration. I could almost taste the experience, I reveled in the concept of creating but I couldn’t get a toe hold on an idea. I know only too well that the door to my imagination only opens when the time is right and that I must wait for it to happen.