I was reading a post today about making wishes. . .
It struck me as such a poignantly simple and beautiful thing to do. And one of those things we just seem to forget about along the road of adulthood. . . Sometimes I feel I am so fully connected to those childhood days and then, every once in awhile, I am reminded of something that I have somehow forgotten. Today it was wishes. . .
The simplicity of a wish. . . the multitude of reasons that we came up with to make them.
The power and the wonder of the things that inspired them.
But then, it occurred to me that I DO still make wishes. You might call it something else since it doesn't happen with a dandelion in hand or a falling star to prompt me. . .
But it's a wish just the same. . . after all these years of seeking and discovery, I feel I have found my place, my path back to the beauty of childhood.
And every single day, I wish for. . . ask for. . . hope for. . . one more day to create beauty and whimsy and the certain magic that you might find within my work, be it photography, music, poetry and writing, miniature worlds or Egyptian statues.
To continue to be the vessel it comes into the world through. . .
I feel I am in service to it.
I no longer create what I want. . . but instead, I create what I feel called to make.
And every day, that wish I make, is for the chance to do that all over again. . .