In this moment magic lies.
Not in the future, imagined in creative visualisation, or planned in bullet points, a ladder to desired outcomes.
This is a trap, I find, a cord to chain me.
When I cut it I realise that the moment is now. To create with the tools here, a pen, paper, a candle, herbs from the kitchen jars, oil that, earlier, I used to make eggs.
Often sadness comes from “my plans”; dissappointment, envy, frustration.
When I allow the brush to wander, the pen to dance, something unexpected unfolds.