Sunday, December 11, 2011

Limner at Play

I cycle. No, not the biking thing. It's more like this:

cycle |ˈsīkəl|
1 [ often with adj. or noun modifier ] a series of events that are regularly repeated in the same order: the boom and slump periods of a trade cycle.

I have my own life cycles. I have sleep cycles. I have creative cycles. I do everything in cycles. Or so it seems. Like now. I am going through the odd leg of my sleep cycle. See, I sleep like a regular person. Lie. I haven't slept like a regular person since I was three. So, I get 9 hours of sleep for days-weeks-months. Then I cannot sleep for more than 4 hours. Or less. Again, like night-before-last. I was awake until 6:30 AM. Last night I was awake until after 3:30. Tonight I have to go to sleep early, because . . . Oh @#%$! Am watching "Homeland." Well, it's on, and, I'm obviously not watching. But, Carrie is cycling. Her speech is rapid-fire. That's all I picked up on. I hear, I don't hear. 'Cause I'm not paying attention. I have PT in the morning.

So. I was awake until dawnish. I was working. Yes. I work. No. I werk. That is so different from w-o-r-k. Do what you love and it's not toil, labor, or work. It's living. When you are in that space--that place--time does not exist. You know what I mean.

Well, hell, Carrie is bi-polar. Beat me with a switch, and cover the welts in rock salt! Sometimes I cannot draw a straight line with a ruler. Those are the times when I read myself back to sanity. The other times I get brilliant ideas, that, if I follow immediately, bring me great joy. There's so much good in that. The other side of it is moving on before the sweat dries. But, I never sweat , since I'm lovin' it. Aha! No sweat, right?

Okay. This is what kept me up greet two mornings in a row:

Why not? I ask myself that a lot. Why not? Why not give it a try? Why not make it? Why not see what it might look like? Why not just do it, girl? The answer is always the same: Why the hell not!?! And I do it. Or I just shrug and do it. Or I just do it before the question forms. I did it.

When I was in art school I had trouble doing thumbnails. You know we had to turn them in, right? I skated any number of times 'cause I had instructors who understood. I create on the fly. I cook on the fly. I write to you on the fly. I live on the fly. I did this on the fly, and I flew to that place where there's only room for one. 

I saw it. I did it. I read this someplace. Life is drawing without an eraser. Ain't it true? There are no do-overs when we want them, so living without an eraser is . . . What? What does it mean for you? How does it manifest in your life? Mine means I try harder the first time. Now that I am older and wiser. Well, sometimes. No. I've always been that way. This way. No sense lying about it. It happens because it's who I am. I did it again. And this is what I got.

This is one way of looking at it.

Here is another.

There's a letter on back. I talk about this n that. Enough shows to whet the curiosity of the nosy postal peepers. 

I keep you
from seeing
what's writ
all over.

In closing. I like this. It's true. 
How about you?
Do you think life is the same way?
A single day is created by a series
of small things
brought together.

And yes, this is about letters. This post has been brought to you by the letters W&M, and Limner.


  1. Took a break from my crochet and read your post. I swear you have it so right. I think things created on the fly are so much better than things needed on a deadline. Perhaps that is why I am in a writing funk? Just can't get into a rhythm. And that seems not fair to everyone else. So I just don't continue, figure I can try again tomorrow. Until then, keep up the good work. Your projects look like so much fun. And now I will go back to Brads blanket until I get too tired. :)

  2. See? There are cycles. Times to do other things. Too often I put creating fun things on the back burner. Burn-out taught me to do a little less writing and and a bit more doing things to write about. Or not. Just doing something else I enjoy/love is the best antidote to everything seeming so out of sync.

    You can't force a good letter. So crochet to your heart's desire. I crochet and knit but it's usually so hot here--the very thought of wool on my skin gives me a rash. :) Crocheting is therapeutic. :)

    Thanks for the compliment. I have dried gourds that need art to cover their nakedness. I have journals to make. Cookies to bake for the people who take such good care of me. I haven't written a letter all day. Yay! Wait! Did, too. I wrote a letter on the back of W&M. Sheesh. I think I must write in my sleep. :)

    Will you let me know when you get snow?

    Crochet on, girl. Crochet on.