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Had some time to daydream and notice Air as I walked to Diesel today in the sun. The wind was whipping about but it wasn't too too cold; even though the temperature still says Winter, the light and the smell of the air say different. Little buds are out on some of the trees. It's the perfect time to be studying Air.
Different songs came into my head as I walked: music that evokes The Winter's Tale for me - a play I hope to direct next spring. The spring-like music I have in mind for Bohemia sounds like windswept Ireland, melancholy but tinged always with hope. Other music sounds sprightly but wise - not the stupidity of blithely cheerful youth but the learned, dappled joy of rebirth at the end of a long winter.
My creative juices are flowing lately - or perhaps my creative winds are blowing. As I reached the cafe where I would sit down to work on my writing, on the play, on the ways my thoughts become breath become art, one of the air correspondences, Inspiration, occurred to me. In the next instant it occurred to me that inspiration literally means "taking in breath."
Different songs came into my head as I walked: music that evokes The Winter's Tale for me - a play I hope to direct next spring. The spring-like music I have in mind for Bohemia sounds like windswept Ireland, melancholy but tinged always with hope. Other music sounds sprightly but wise - not the stupidity of blithely cheerful youth but the learned, dappled joy of rebirth at the end of a long winter.
My creative juices are flowing lately - or perhaps my creative winds are blowing. As I reached the cafe where I would sit down to work on my writing, on the play, on the ways my thoughts become breath become art, one of the air correspondences, Inspiration, occurred to me. In the next instant it occurred to me that inspiration literally means "taking in breath."
