Tunes for a Monday Morning
Under the Skin of the World: on myth and magic

The weather of creativity

The view out of the studio windows, snow obscuring the valley

One minute, the snow is falling fast: fat flakes dissolving at the ground's warm touch.

In the next minute, the sun returns to light up the green valley below.

The weather report reads: Changeable.

View from the studio a moment later

And we are changeable too. As we write, as we paint, as we create we move from joy to despair and back a hundred times. The creative process is not a straight road but a precarious path of mist and snow, formed out of our attention, intention, and the tension between two opposite states. We step onto the path as warily as Wily E. Coyote stepping out into thin air...but unlike him, we can look down. Far below, our loved ones, mentors, ancestors, and community of mythic artists, past and present, stand arm-in-am to catch us if we fall.

We won't fall. You won't fall. So trust the path.

And keep on going.

In the studio on a snowy Monday

Tilly's poem for the day: "Nunaqtigiit," by Inuit poet Joan Kane.

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