My days are made up of moments when I am no struck by inspiration, so I gaze around and wonder when it will visit me again. When it does I will tell someone that I’ve been struck by inspiration, perhaps I’ll create something that lands in the scale somewhere between amazing and sub par. But then, of course, sometimes inspiration comes and hits hard and I ignore it. It goes on looking elsewhere.
This particular morning, June 26th, I woke up and Inspiration did not strike me but rather tickled me on the neck. I decided to respond and sat down with my tools. The paper stayed blank for an hour. I got up and got some incense, intending to create a mood for myself. I lit it. The smoke moved up, up, writing small scribbles in the sky. It wrote a language in the air, and who’s to say it wasn’t sending a message to the heavens? Maybe it was pleading for a morsel of inspiration on my behalf. While I was watching the smoke dissipate into nothing, I noticed the vines that were growing on my porch, had they come out of nowhere? Here they were, abundant and vibrant and I hadn’t noticed them until just now. The leaves - perfect semi-circles, meeting in the middle and creating a tip, like two hands clasped together. The intricate detail of veins on each leaf.
I do not know if God is real or if he lives in heaven. What I do know is that the smoke of the incense could have been created as a thin grey stream, nothing to look at here. The leaves could have been plain and uninteresting. Instead, the smoke swirls in patterns unreplicable, the leaves are colored, textured, alive. Wouldn’t some sort of God have created that?
Botany 2019 launches today. I love you all.