that BECOMING moment...

Finally painted a little 8x8 that I was pleased with that says spring and cherry blossoms. Sweet Farmer says, "why does her hair go out like that?"
and I say- BECAUSE. it's whimsical, nostalgic... he doesn't get it. But that's okay.
I start to paint a more realistic portrait
and there she goes ...off on her own trail, her own story, her own little world.
It is one of my favorite travel destinations - that Alice-In Wonderland-rabbit-hole of my own imagination.
It is a room of my own.
Where do people go without this option in their lives? Is it arrogant of me to feel sorry for those who have lost the ability to imagine, to play, to design little vignettes, to paint their dreams, to write out the beats of their hearts, to sing from that sacred place . Where for moments in time there is no sense of failure or success, worry or demands.
 It is just YOU spilling out, breathing out, laying it out- one texture, one color, one line, one twist of the brush. Where you smile at this innate object before you as you watch the life energy poured into it become something tangible, touchable, like the cherry bud that became the blossom overnight.
Don't you love that becoming moment?