Expressing and Sharing the Bliss-Ride

This blogging occupation is somewhat at cross purposes with my natural inclination to be private. It’s a little beyond the comfort zone of a comfortably reclusive personality to post art and personal stories and musings about the nature of things. I spend a lot of my time writing, creating markings and symbols (sometimes called art), convening solitary treks into wild places, being a quiet witness to the miracles and mysteries of life. In short, I’m a very private person, one who is rapturous in solitude, listening for what’s just out of range, with a half-grin of anticipation. Listening, like this, with your heart and soul, is a private thing akin to prayer or meditation. I enjoy this immensely.

Available in my Etsy store as a print.  Soon to be available as a greeting card.

The soul's yearning to express itself and realize itself is alive in every breath you take.

But I’m realizing it’s not that simple - there’s an urge to share and take risks that override the urge to remain private. When I start reflecting and processing all this, I realize that my urge to share is a basic need we all have when it comes to creative expression, and life, in general. We become missionaries - proselytizing about enigmatic, uplifting creative experiences, about moments spent in unabashed astonishment. How often do you hear people say, “It’s not me, it’s coming from somewhere else - I’m just a conduit”. Therefore, if it's bigger than me, it doesn’t really belong to me… and, so, hence, it must be shared. Sharing, after all, connects us to a wider circle of kindred spirits, and maybe this is the key. In the presence of beauty and truth, whether in the creative zone, or the ‘one-with-all’ zone, we know the sacred, almighty bliss of just being alive; we spill over and out of ourselves with the joy of it. We can't contain the need to say or draw or compose what we've experienced and share with others our private revelry.

The other side of this coin is that we all suffer, and also spill out of ourselves with the pain of it, and equally need connection. I’ll save that for another time.

OK, I’ve worked it all out with myself once again – it’s fine, I don’t have to worry. Mostly, it’s late at night that I feel those creeping questions: Was that stupid or what? Who really cares? What’s the point? I should get a real job.

By morning I’m over myself (which is what self-doubt is – being too focused on self) and spilling over again with urges to connect around this bliss-ride called life.

Below is my granddaughter, Sophie spilling over outside herself. She loves the animal kingdom more than dolls - here, she would be a hummingbird.