Creativity seems to have dried up somewhere along with the color of the season’s change. I ventured into my studio this evening hoping for some sparks to fly only to be met with cobwebs and remnants of what it felt like to be full of inspiration. So much of the last two years has been going through the motions. I dream of moving into the forest and being a hermit - isolated to just writing and painting. However, I know myself and I long for connection too. There seems to be no balance in the modern world. Technology has been a real detriment to my insides. A numbing agent all too readily available. If I even attempted to sit down and paint, I don’t even know where I would start. It feels as if there is nothing inside me. I catch glimpses of beauty on my daily walks and do my best to document and soak it in. Really… I think I’m lacking adventure and change. There’s a peace that comes with being comfortable and I am doing my best to be content with where I am. Grateful for the most part and looking for inspiration.