Today I am kinetic

I took away the last blog because I'm still sitting on the idea of it. I think I will publish here and there, but I would have to make my blog private to be completely vulnerable the way I imagined. I sat at my computer for hours and read through old blogs, fighting my brain, fighting until I just gave up. This might be a cop out, but since only Beth commented on it, I don't think much of anyone read it to begin with.



Anyways.



I get really random things stuck in my head. Like pieces of conversation- something someone said about not so consequential or profound subject matter. And I've had this one conversation stuck in my head. It was between me and Listo a while ago- she was asking me about my art and how I just sit down and create, with little to no preparation. She then told me that her boyfriend (my friend too- just so you don't think of him as just "Ashley's-boyfriend-Nick") will read something, spend time writing and then after this whole process he puts brush to canvas or whatever medium he decides to use. And Nick is an amazing artist- seriously talented. I wish I could show you all his work- it is full of so many good things.... the things that point to something Divine, something deeply beautiful.

I think that a lot of my personal artistic style reflects how mostly impatient I am, how I can't let things sit- I have to push them out of my mind onto canvas. And this is how I write... I don't think I've ever really written anything more than a page of my own personal thoughts because I get impatient and HAVE to move on to something else.

Anyways, I conclude this random post with something I wrote recently.



Today I am kinetic... tomorrow maybe stagnant. But in this present moment I am gospel guttural, head thrown back mouth openwide with old spirituals seeping from between the cracks of my teeth. I am openwide cupping the cusp of my innards, fighting against woven stiff stuck shut ideals.

I am creating space, pushing back the edges of hatred and pride until my hands are permanently indented with the realization that I could always become that if I'm not careful. The way a burn reminds us to take our hands out of the fire and the scar reminds us that we are always capable of hurting. Capable of hurting ourselves. Capable of hurting others.

So, hands cupped in dutiful adoration, mundanely reciting adulations to a humble existence I am feeling my bones creaking under the weight of it all. I am not them, they are not me. I am capable of turning worlds into clay, they make the earth like a stone to stack on humanities head- a burden to bear and not to lift.

*** and that's where I got distracted... told you.