Doing things creatively is like being an acrobat, you have to leap with grace, lightly, without a shade of hesitation.   Doubt will stop you between trapezes, time will seem to stand still for a blink, as the audience, sickened and thrilled, waits for the splat.  (Almost two minutes to say that).  

Our time here, maybe it would be better measured in tiny spoons rather than with a ladle of unlimited size and scope such as the one we use without thinking of moments.   Rushing around can take up a lot of time, you got something important to get done give it to a busy person, blah, blah, blah.   Still, the hardest work is the work you have to do to have the grace to float between trapezes.

I don’t know what I’m talking about, except that I’m tired, and waiting for this tiredness to completely overwhelm me.  Into the bed then, under the soft, warm covers, a cold breeze rattling through the window, cozy in my almost weightless sleeping cap.

And in the dream I will not recall in the morning I am at the guitar and I play one note.  And that note, laid succulently against the beat, can be shimmered, until it is like an ocean, let’s say.  On that ocean light plays, and the salt evaporates off the brilliant water with that bracing smell, and there are fish, some leaping, others beautifully colored, just under the magical surface.  There is a universe in a raindrop, and billions of them in a bucket of sea water.  There is no bucket that can hold all of those universes.  Your mind can skip over them, use a machine to see under the sea, but everything about it is a mystery.  The next  beat, and the next, it is a human heart, the most primal sound available, we memorize it before we are even born, breathing through gills and then through a cord attached to our mother.  The whole arrangement is pretty amazing, though we forget most of the time.  

Creativity seems like a luxury, something rich people pay a premium for.  But free spontaneous creativity is what gives life its color and its flavor.  You cannot convince me otherwise, particularly when you laugh, surprised that something so crude and stupid arose so quickly and unexpectedly.  And see here, my left hand never left the neck of that dream guitar with its infinite sustain.  And what beautiful teeth you have, and how lovely to see them not biting but framing those odd sounds barking out, as your eyes crinkle and your head bops like a coconut on the waves of that ocean of endless possibilities.