Dreamwings

I remember only that I dreamed I was flying.  I had never done that before. But this night, I felt my body lift off from the foot of our yard and float up above the yard, the street, the house... and while there, my intent was enough to move me - higher, and farther down the street.  How beautiful, how peaceful it all looked from above, every detail of branch and leaf, pattern of roof tile and complexity of chimneys filling the hushed night scene below me.

I may never fly again.  But my body remembers how it feels, and I sigh in sympathy with every bird as it alights and folds its wings.

Drawing on Memory

Getting my work together for the SCBWI Childrens' Authors and Illustrators conference in New York this week.

I've been looking over my portfolio for the past six months, deciding what needed replacing, and looking through more recent images for connections, strong energy.

Considering which images appealed to me, and why, it occurred to me that what most tugged at me were images that drew on my own childhood memories - good or bad.

As a member of a loud and busy family, at times I was busy adding to the noise while at other times I needed a quiet retreat.  Focusing on what was right in front of me, the bustle of my surroundings would fade. I noticed how delicately beautiful the colours on an oily puddle seemed, walking down the street on a rainy day.  These same colours swirled in the wonderful changing surface of soap bubbles we blew.  And showed up again in the landscape of rich shades in an abalone shell, in the shine on a beetle, in the wings of a dragonfly. 

Taking a moment to really look at something creates this peaceful mental state even now.  And considering all that needs to get done in the next 48 hours, this is a good thing.