365 dAys of aRt. DAY TWENTY-SEVEN.

a beautiful mystery
unfolding in time
internal divinity
waiting to shine
letting go of desire
your love and the truth
will ignite the fire
that's burning in you.

Sometimes I dream about having an art studio. Having a space to call my own -- my own space to clutter; my own space to collect things. A studio that towers high above me like a cathedral -- with windows that light up the room and send in the rain. A room not dedicated to working, but a dedicated space to being me -- a room that inspires me to create. I often think about this studio -- about what it would be like to have a drafting table, to have lavender scents burning and sigur ros singing to me in the background; to have tins full of acrylics and canvas that stretches the length of the floor. It'd certainly be nice to have the studio I dream of. But, for now, this raw atmosphere of clutter and clippings is my muse. The day-to-day is my inspiration -- the lack of space and creative confusion. And, because of this day-to-day stuff, I feel alive.