Finding inspiration on Bull Hill
Change doesn't always happen overnight, it happens in small little circles and a shit ton of "back and forths". We have to remember patience and allow enough s p a c e to look honestly at patterns and then figure out what to do with them - if anything. I believe growth comes from recognizing patterns and finding ways to talk about them. Making sure the words coming out of someone's mouth are actually translated properly in the mind. For they are too easily distorted.
Lately, I've found it too difficult to actually BE with myself and whatever's coming up. I've felt disconnected from my body, as if I'm watching the experiences as a shadow. That's not to say I'm not enjoying things because I have had a freaking blast at this month's events (apparently, November was the month for all of my friends to throw parties), but there has been some blue lurking around. Actually, it's more of dull gray. I haven't painted in a few months and can't seem to find it in me to try. I'm too afraid that the paintings will look the same as others I've done, too many swirls and glitter. The inner voice reminding me to just paint is hard to find, it's too lost in a tangle of a bunch of crap.
It's always good to escape the city. To get away from the clusters of crowds, the hurried motion, and immerse yourself into a place where you feel a little more steadied. To feel inspired. I felt better the moment I got off the train in Coldspring. And the woods were filled with little bits of magic everywhere. Tree houses for fairies, a blanket of fallen leaves, and everything was golden. As the sun set, it burned so brightly on along another mountain. It looked electric. I've always felt held in these mountains, protected in a way.
Looking at the photos I am still inspired. When the time is right, I hope to try and capture some of the magic on canvas. Until then, here are my blurry photos (it was quite chilly!).