Walking Rancho Hermosa

FOG and Overload

This morning I awoke to fog. The kind that is an atmospheric. It is a paradox of sort, fog, for it can be calming or just plain exhausting. As I walk in this quiet morning, the only sounds are the birds chirping their springtime melodies. The traffic noise is gone, just the quiet dripping of the morning dew drops plopping on the leaves below.

The Brain Fog on the other hand, is what has come upon me in this time of isolation due to the Corvid 19 crisis. The constant babble of the TV media, the newspaper's stories of our National State of affairs , and the Facebook adds for blatant infomercials for your vote on something political. This overload gives birth to Brain Fog. I'm making me a promise to turn them all off. This morning, NOW, and to not be mentally inundated by the incoming noise of technologies...that I can control.

The silence of my creative self I return to. As a painter/sculptor, the quiet and solitude is my arena for my work. The quiet that gives the rise to the impulse of the now. It is the time, for the muse lives again, and will not be denied. 

My walk energizes me today, and clears the fog of this National time of hysteria, as the morning sun clears the air in Rancho Hermosa, and gives rise to the new day of promise for finishing the painting that has been staring at me for the past two months.