I haven't written anything on here for quite a while. I typically write when I have the burning need to say something, but I haven't felt that need for so long. I think it's because I'm truly happy. It's a strange place to be - happy is. Happy means sleep, contented sitting, wistful smiles, empty headed kisses and fully invested hugs. Happy is a warm child's hand and my husband's strong arm around my shoulders. Happy is having a home to call my very absolute own, full of quiet, light and air. Happy is laying on the ground and making patterns in the tree branches. Happy is a loss of anger, a loss of stomach knots and tightness in the brow.
A lot of things I had to say previously were fueled from this sense of unsettlement, lack of self confidence and loneliness. While I was always surrounded by my insular family, I feel less isolated steps away from the crowded city. I think it's because I can fully focus on them now and be more fully present in the moment. It's hard to explain the changes just moving homes brought me - but they're there. They're blossoming and they're full of warmth. I am still, if not more so, full of inspiration for my work, I just have fewer words to go with them. Like I'm happier to let them stand on their own without an explanation or an apology. I hope my work will continue on in this way - filled with a lungful of breath and a quiet mind - and I hope you all wont mind the subtle change.