Today is the first Monday in July. It’s the first day of a new work week. It’s another day to begin again.
Liz Lamoreux is offering a free (yes, free) read-along for her book Inner Excavation: Explore Your Self through Photography, Poetry, and Mixed Media. I have had the book for a couple or three years, and I followed along the first time that Liz offered the free read-along. But sometimes, I have trouble finishing what I begin. Today, I am not only a “begin-ner,” but I am setting my intention to become a finisher as well.
My first “excavation” is in my living room. Truly, I do need to have an archeological dig in this room. Who knows what I will find! This morning, I started with my sofa, and here is what I found:
I’m finishing a “reader’s wrap” made from the Unforgettable line of Red Heart yarns. I am in love with the softness, not only of the colors but of the texture of the yarn.
There are my “art” supplies—pens and colored pencils that I keep in a wooden box that once held either Cuties or Halos (mandarin oranges). I am an office-supply junkie as well as an art supply junkie.
I will be using a top-bound spiral sketchbook as my journal for this go-round of Inner Excavations. And I am not going to be afraid to mark up my copy of the book. I’ve already begun coloring over words and phrases that jump out at me.
I don’t remember how old I was when I first learned to play the piano. My mother was my first teacher, and then Mrs. Wessinger taught me from the time I was in fifth or sixth grade until I graduated from high school. I thought I was going to be a concert pianist when I went to college, but that was not to be the case. However, I took piano lessons from one of the college instructors until I did my student teaching during my last semester on campus. And after nearly forty years, I am resuming those lessons with an instructor at the same college where I studies those many years ago. These lessons are feeding my soul.
I love sea shells, the colors, the textures, the coolness of them in my hand. However, I don’t get to the coast often enough to collect them myself. So, I resorted to buying some from a local craft store. I keep a jar full of these shells on my piano.
I begin. . . .
to answer a call, THE CALL
I begin a voyage of discovery, of questing
I begin to know me.