Messy: life is messy! It is not an either/or proposition, with clear lines around discrete packages, which you must choose between it’s a “all this and more” event. Language, epiphany has come to mean a flash of insight or realization. The first non-Jewish people to worship the Christ child. We are in the season leading up to the Festival of Epiphany, JanuaryĦ, observed as a church festival to celebrate the coming of the Magi, But I also love my calling, to follow creative ideas, do something with them, and send them out to the world. I love the deep bond that’s strengthened when we spend time together. It’s a conundrum: I love my family, I love it when they come home, I love the bustling and busy times, the photobombers who mess up photos, the bits of tinsel stuck to the carpet. I have more than a box full of unfinished pieces that were begun with a passion and fizzled out through neglect. What will happen to those budding ideas that still need development? Will the ideas still be there when I pull the projects out of the closet where I tucked them a few weeks ago? In Elizabeth Gilbert’s latest book Big Magic, she suggests that ideas have a life of their own they visit you, calling out, “Okay, here I am! I’ve chosen you to make me real and send me out into the world.” But if you tell those ideas, “Later, later, I haven’t time now,” they may just give up on you they may skip town and lodge in someone else’s heart, one who is more receptive! That may sound hokey, but I suspect there’s some truth to the theory. Right now, I have a number of projects on the go. My space becomes “Bedrooms R Us” for whoever needs the space. When the family comes home, however, the work table collapses, the design wall comes down, and the Murphy wall-bed descends. The hardest thing for me when the kids come home is giving up my office/studio, my own space, my circle of quiet where I am free to create and dream without interruption. No more mattresses on the floor and pillows on the sofa and stray socks and mittens under the coffee table. No more coats and shoes piled up by the door, and suitcases lying open in hallways. No more noise of children playing and running through the house, computers pinging, adults discussing lofty issues. No more “Five Fat Days of Christmas” - non-stop feeding of 12 hungry mouths. The last sticky kisses and lingering hugs have been exchanged, and off they go. The Christmas visitors packed up and left yesterday morning. This year, we were the ones to decorate the little tree in the woods. Trying to arrange everyone for the annual Christmas shot is a challenge.
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