Something ’bout Simplicity.

“It’s the little things, but they all add up.”

I sprinkle that mesh of words into scenarios frequently. Because I am a big believer and lover of simplicity. Sure, I absolutely adore the big brimmed hat the shy girl on the corner of Yonge Street is sporting but it’s the way the hat tips and her coat sits and where her purse hits that makes for stronger pictures. Stronger feelings. Everything is art. 

I like messy beds and over worn pyjamas. I like the wild silence on the subway in a car full of fifty strangers. I like uneven footprints in the snow and melting flakes on eyelashes that make your mascara run. I like aged cracks in the pavement and a paper bag caught in the gutter from someone’s lunch. I like worn out edges of over read novels and fingerprints on the car window. I like holes in t-shirts and the sound of coffee brewing at 8am. I like imperfect smiles, frown lines and scars with stories. I like how you look at me. I like empty wine glasses on the counter from the night before and newspapers on the train seat next to you that have been touched by numerous hands. I like water stains on the bathroom mirror and cloudy airplane trails in the sky. I like how you make me feel. I like the souls sense of serendipity and the touch of a first dance. I like blueberry stains on my fingers and the morning after nose scrunch of a too-many-drinks text. I like the lipstick stains on coffee cups and the sound of a key in the lock after a long day. I like you.

Everything is art. -k

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‘The simple things are the most extraordinary things and only the wise can see them.’

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Hungry like a Wolf.

With morning coffee and a blank page waiting for me to add words of wisdom, I clicked into Pinterest as my creativity time out because my words weren’t wise and my coffee was getting damn cold. Then bam; my eyes absorbed the following:

“Nobody can tell you if what you’re doing is good, meaningful or worthwhile. The more compelling the path, the more lonely it is. Most of us are unknowingly trained to NOT trust in our own judgment. Our parents made decisions for us, our teachers told us how things should be done, and society has its own rules on what is right and wrong. After being beat down by authority for years on end, many people just become one of the sheep. They follow the status quo. It’s easier that way. The wolfs, also known as the stubborn trouble makers (I was one, still am) tend to have their own ideas of how things should be. They stand away from the crowd, make waves and piss a lot of people off. But they also find great happiness, because they follow their own dreams and make their own plans. Their lives tend to end up just the way they want them to. Wolfs trust in their own desires. They lean towards the professions that they were meant (made) to do. Wolfs are the innovators, the inventors and artists and writers. They ignore everybody. They have to or they’d never get things done.” ~ Hugh MacLeod

From my experience the path is not understood by most. And the ones that envy it don’t realize that it can be a lonely path. That dip into self discovery and self trust gives me goosebumps just thinking about it sometimes. Because there are still moments where I don’t trust what I produce. My italics, shapes, the way I express the stories in my head without opening my mouth. This morning was one of those moments. That leap into the unknown. But then those epiphany moments void all of the rest. That personal victory that can come from something so small. So as I sit here listening to nothing but the hum of rush hour traffic through a cracked window and the melody of my keyboard clicks, my coffee cup is refilled with diet gingerale and I go on with the blind race. I guess I just needed some wise words to help me with mine.

And thank you to a favourite person of mine for this thoughtful gift for future endeavours. I named her SJP. This is her first entry. -k

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As Artists…

This picture is not entirely clear. Or perfectly centered. It’s elegantly tipping to the right like the words would roll out of sight forever and those who saw them would be the lucky ones. How appropriate. Such art. And this is such truth. Such unspoken truth that I rolled across. That artsy type of truth. -k