Maybe it’s because of the gerbil that races in my heart, constantly trying to catch the one spinning in my head, that I gravitate toward a clean surface. White space. A place for your eyes to rest. Herein lies the slow certainty created from all that clamber. A place for love. For gratitude. For hope. Their zones, I think, should remain clutter free.
I suppose I’ve always been trying to create that space. For myself. For others. A place that calls to you, in studio or on page, “Come in, you and your heart sit down.”
I mention it because yesterday my gerbil was really working overtime. That wheel was spinning between, why wasn’t the package being delivered and why was the elliptical machine so noisy, and and and…then I opened the door. Exhaled the whys and let in the white space. And I was saved.
