Susan M Gibbons

11-22-18 I'm sitting in my kitchen, reflecting over this past year and a half.  All is quiet.  Soon the hustle and bustle of Thanksgiving activities will be underway.  But until that starts, I'm able to just be, just sit here and take a deep breath, grateful for all that has happened - both the good and the bad.  This past year and a half has been one of many distresses and blessings. Family deaths, almost losing my husband earlier this year, my own health problems, moving, starting a business, new grandbaby, wedding, and of course, art - all part of life with but each brings it own unique element into the fabric of existence - I couldn't be more grateful.  What all this has taught me is that so much of my time is spent doing, spending it on activities - all important - but what I need is to be able to just spend time being, resting, rejuvenating myself before all the activities begin.  It has taught me to be dormant - like winter - waiting for the buds to bloom later

It was such a lovely sunrise this morning.  Not one of those sunrises that makes you say, "Wow", but just a beautiful, subtle transition from dark to dusk to morning.  Watching the colors brighten and fade, making coffee, I thought of just how fortunate it is to be able to take the time to watch such beauty.  I just wanted to exist within it.  It was beautiful.  The day was dawning.  The day's pressures and plans would be upon me soon enough.  But for now, in the quiet and stillness of the morning, I was sitting with my coffee, reflecting on the beauty of the day's dawn. It made me think of good days in the studio, when I can come to that place of stillness when working.  As of late, my process has been an emotional one, relying on painful emotions to create my work.  Stillness does exist within creating such work for pain is a part of every person's life at some point.  It is a part of this world.  So how does stillness come from after painting pain?  For me, i