crispy mornings

somewhere amidst my dreamfilled travels in the night, just after i was gazing at Red Rock, but before i could build the Dream House, tickling whiskers brushed by cheek. then, just in case, a tentative paw tapped my eye. diva dog. any movement would trigger a bounty of tail-wagging and effusive joy, so i tried to lay still. no luck...i'm convinced she can read my mind and sensed my dreamthoughts turning to daythoughts. a rough tongue tries to pry open my eyelids. okay - i'm up. 5:30 am. diva! i know - if she had thumbs she could open the door herself and go out. >sigh< i hit the "on" button and the smell of coffee follows us out to the deck. we're the only ones in the world....scraps and bits of ideas catwalk in front of my thoughts...this? how about this? part of a Bruce Cockburn song weaves it's way into the show...."I've been scraping little shavings off my ration of light/ and i formed it into a ball/ and each time i pack a bit more on to it/ i make a bowl of my hands and i scoop it from its secret cache under a loose board in the floor/ and i blow across it and i send it to you/ against those moments when the darkness blows under your door." there it is. the quiet nudge. the gentle voice. the perfumed blossom so sweet that you'd walk a thousand paths searching for it- nose testing the air for direction. my Idea. well, i say "my" idea, but to be honest with you i don't know who's idea it is. i can't imagine an ordinary person like me who lives in an ordinary house on an ordinary street could claim ownership of Ideas such as the ones that guide my hands and speak to my spirit. not Linda Jenn, who insisted upon wearing her pleated skirt backwards in kindergarten. not Linda Jenn who tried to do magic and cracked open her best friend's head when the "magic" carpet didn't slide from beneath her 4-year old feet. not Linda Jenn who has had so many different jobs from shoe shine girl to police dispatcher. no...these Ideas come from Somewhere Else.....Someone Else. and i accept the Gift of them gladly and willingly....eagerly. it's not that i'm insecure about myself (no "suffering from low-self-esteem" like it was constipation or a bad headache)....it's just that at the moment of inspiration - that flash of an instant in time - i feel as though a Gift is being handed to me....a special spark being placed in my spirit. and that spark will guide me through boxes and containers and drawers of "stuff" until the right "stuffs" gel together to make Art. it is a Divine feeling (in the true sense of the word...not the "dahling, you look divine" sense). during those moments when i try to grab a wisp of it by the hand, to hold it in front of me to get a better look...during those moments, be they a minute or 10 or 20, the world stands still. diva dog seems to be on her very best invisibility behavior....breezes hush...just my Idea and i standing face to face holding hands and learning one another....testing the mettle...cautiously asking myself if i'm up to this challenge....not moving, lest it vanish. when i've gained all i can from the Moment, it's studio time. now, at 5:30 am, i can tell you 2 things are true: the light from 10 Daylight flourescent light fixtures can scare away an eclipse , and 2) when your studio door is across from your bedroom door - music is not appreciated by the still-slumbering husband. (although the snoring will drown out some genres). last night, after 7 years, my neighbor finally got up the nerve to ask what the deal was with the BRIGHT light that bursts from my upper window that faces her bedroom window and blinds them awake at the oddest hours. i told her i was making adult films, and the light was necessary for the camera work. (well, okay - i wanted to. but instead i said "i'm an artist" and let that ride. the film thing probably would've been more acceptable - at least it was an income, right? ). a cup of coffee, a busy bone for diva, and up to the studio. mmmm - my Idea is following like silk tendrils. when i'm working, i sometimes picture myself with long flowing hair that needs to be pinned back, wearing Stevie Nicks-ish clothing....my inner gypsy. it's always a surprise when i catch a look in the mirror and see short hair and a pink bathrobe, or splotchy t-shirt. my hand goes immediately to my new plastic container marked "small metal." (a result of my recent purge/organize binge). i pull a small cheese grater thing from the bin. i remember buying this at a flea market and wondering why i was doing so...it was metal, but not rusty, not really interesting - just a very small cheese grater thing. sort of like a metal file with a concave side. what would i use it for?? and it was the dreaded silver. hmmm...it all becomes clear ....scraping little shavings....cheese grater cum file....the synchronicity of it all is just so humbling.....6 months ago the Idea knew it's time was coming, and the materials for it urged themselves into my hand. not just the cheese file...but the box it's going in, and several other items that will be a part of this piece - i remember finding/buying each one, and can tell you that each and every time i brought the items home, it was with a shake of my head thinking, "what's up with this?" there's magic to be had at 5:30 am. if you don't believe me, ask my cardinal outside. L.