Stretching out Time

I walked outside last night after the babies were in bed, dinner was eaten and the kitchen was clean. The sky was dark but clear, The silhouette of the pine trees that have grown so tall since I moved here made me feel like I was somewhere else. Stars sparkled and the moon shown so bright I feared I wouldn’t be able to sleep. The crickets sang thier   symphony and it sounded like happy cats purring. 

It is still dark now as I sit here in the morning, the stars are still out, the air crisp. I’ve heard little cries from Jack and Fiona through the morning, I’m hoping they’ll get a bit more sleep, it’s still quite early. 

Last night in the nursery, as I read and told stories Jack and Fiona nodded their heads, gave little smiles, and said “yea” 

When I asked them, “what can you tell me about this story?” Or “what do you think?” Jack made a little giggle and shook his head, almost like he was being bashful. It seems like they are really enjoying the “story” which is really exciting. It gives me another tool for stretching out time. 

In my studio yesterday I decided to work on my press. It was a big mess, like it always is my first session. I started getting upset, I hated everything. I had to remind myself it was still a productive day, that it was the process that was important. That I have to work through all the crap, all the mud, all the foggy brain moments to get to a point of clarity. That I wouldn’t learn anything if I played it safe and just made things I knew would “work” that have “worked” before. 

I’ve also been trying to push myself to work through one large piece. It could come from twenty being ripped up and reconfigured, but I’m trying to add more layers, extend the working time on the piece. Stretch out time. 

Stretch out time. The sky is still dark, the stars still out. It’s quiet, with the windows closed I can’t hear the hum of the freeway anymore. How can I keep this calm peaceful feeling as the rest of the town wakes up, as I go out into the hustle and bustle of the day? 

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About Dirty Laundry Blog

Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist