first, happy corduroy day! hope you're celebrating in appropriate fashion.
I, myself, own not a single item made of corduroy, having gotten rid of the old and never quite been sold on the new.
and if you don't get it, think 11 11 11 and let your thoughts go crazy.
now on to my thoughts today.
they are about my whining the other day about city riding. yes, I whined. and when it got almost warm enough, I rode up the canyon to keep from going crazy with boredom.
yesterday was a little warmer, and today looks to be the same, so it's up, up again.
I think better when I get to go up, and I think less when I get to go up, and the combination of the two is just a gift. the project I'm currently involved in exists vaguely and nebulously in my mind: I can see the finished product, it has a title and a feeling and a wholeness to it, but I don't yet know how all the little parts are going to come together. I don't even know what all the little parts are yet. and in those infamous words from my box manufacturer's production man, sometimes you can't know.
I can't know yet how it will all come together, it's not time. I must be patient, I must let things come to me and work their way through me, and finally appear on paper. I can open myself up to it, ask for it, spend time thinking about it, but the deepest and most beautiful creative work occurs below the surface of my mind, bubbling up only when it's ready.
and mindlessly riding my bike is often the setup that allows this bursting forth from the surface.
17 miles into my ride yesterday I was struck by a lightening bolt. a metaphorical one, of course. it wasn't a Huge Thing, it was just a small piece that was exactly what I needed for the section I was working on. every time these things happen, I just grin and shake my head. you can't force it,
you can't wave a magic wand and be filled with inspiration.
all you can do is set the stage and be open to what comes to visit.
my stage just happens to be a canyon: lucky me.