… was that an angel?

At irregular monotony; is that an oxymoron? I bemoan my lack of formal training, absence of a teacher, mentor, direction, ability, a whinging blah it seems. Yet, these concerns come to the fore; not connected with depression, anxiety or any other mental disorder, this inner crisis pops when …

But when?

We feel bereft and aggrieved without the above mentioned props; because that is what they are. Mostly, we don’t need teachers, mentors, managers or directors,  we are able to source them at will … ideas, people and providers are available.

When we are creative and energy flows , it feels like divine intervention; overall, it is plain intuition, friendliness,  generosity and hard work.  Yet, amidst of the emptiness, confusion of unknown, or stuckness, those resources are seen spitefully amiss.

I suppose that is where I was this morning, a blog post to do and random drawings from yesterday looking at me hopelessly.

So, I made good wishes for those who share my demise …

Noon looms and the  sketches now torn beyond recognition and a booklet … a Coptic binding Nice!