Energized by a burst of cool weather. Anything is possible.
Confession: “I miss my imagination.”
I have been drawing from life, and working on staying in the present moment, and pursuing physical fitness, and dealing with one thing and another all summer. None of these efforts are particularly conducive to giving the imagination free rein. My imagination has been tied up in a small stall with a work project to keep it occupied. Like a pig with a toy, it’s acting a little unruly.
I can see where imagination might come into play in drawing. I get excited and the lines go all over the place. I lose control and the drawing becomes a mess. I need to slow down.
But I don’t want to slow down. I want the swoosh, the swash, the dash. The mad line. The accident. I make fast sketches one after the other, chasing it, chasing it hopefully. This will never work. It’s tiring and discouraging.
I listened to an “On Being” podcast about Nadia Bolz-Weber, a Lutheran pastor from Denver. New imaginings of church. I was enthusiastic.
Religion carries a lot of baggage. Spirituality seems a lot lighter. But it seems to me that there is “religious imagination” more than “spiritual imagination.” I don’t have the words to explain this more fully.
Instead I made up a chant today about the Speckled Chickens.
Speckled chickens ambulate
Speckled chickens aggravate
Speckled chickens emulate
Speckled chickens delegate
Speckled chickens escalate
Speckled chickens calculate
Speckled chickens elevate
Speckled chickens levitate
Speckled chickens ululate
…to be continued and
to be accompanied by illustrations.
Chicken. Not speckled, but could be.