It's nearly forty-two degrees below zero, and it has been for over two days now.
And once again I've been forced to close the studio. Gladly, just before the front hit I was able to finish a commision for a long time "follower". I have three, ( maybe two) more pieces to finish before "the book" gets further attention. I'm looking at two-three weeks of personal work to be completed before returning to the larger issue.
"Zulli" is Italian for " really frustrated". Of course that's the more modern definition. The old rustic meaning is loosely translated as " pissed off".
One of the most difficult thing for me to do is arrive at a certain detachment that makes the work easier. Instead I worry, rage, fret and screw myself into knots over things that elude my control where my work is concerned. There is little peace internally for me and there rarely has been. Seekers beware. The road is long, harsh and cold.
But, I gave up trying to either fit in or conform years ago, so I really am not complaining, rather I tend to marvel at my own struggles. I often find it all amuseing.
Then again, I don't.
As my old neighbor Eva back in New England used to say, "Whatayagonnadoaboutit."
Yup.
Salaam's and stuff,
M.Z.
Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free.
And once again I've been forced to close the studio. Gladly, just before the front hit I was able to finish a commision for a long time "follower". I have three, ( maybe two) more pieces to finish before "the book" gets further attention. I'm looking at two-three weeks of personal work to be completed before returning to the larger issue.
"Zulli" is Italian for " really frustrated". Of course that's the more modern definition. The old rustic meaning is loosely translated as " pissed off".
One of the most difficult thing for me to do is arrive at a certain detachment that makes the work easier. Instead I worry, rage, fret and screw myself into knots over things that elude my control where my work is concerned. There is little peace internally for me and there rarely has been. Seekers beware. The road is long, harsh and cold.
But, I gave up trying to either fit in or conform years ago, so I really am not complaining, rather I tend to marvel at my own struggles. I often find it all amuseing.
Then again, I don't.
As my old neighbor Eva back in New England used to say, "Whatayagonnadoaboutit."
Yup.
Salaam's and stuff,
M.Z.
Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free.
Rumi.
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