its not the wind, nor the moon...

For the past week I have been convincing myself to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Why? I need sleep to function... but and I'm writing this more in self acknowledgement ...I've been convinced it's the full moon, the wild wind, the... the ... but in fact its my need to turn to the studio when the house is quiet and I have had sometime to myself to think, to squander my thoughts and my energy by foodling around.
What's been keeping me awake is my wonder lust to get squishy with paint on canvas or paper... to get into that messy space where I can't dictate the outcome, well I can but in painting I choose not to - where I loose and find myself all at the same time.
So why now? why not to bed like the evenings before?

tonight I am broken.

I am broken, my soul on the floor
the only way I know how to live this emotional onslaught is to create through it.
Its not the moon, nor the wind or my longing to paint it is all of those things and none of them.
I find myself reticent to start. But this is just for me. This may be all I share.

In the hospital today I heard some one say "how do people with no faith get through this?"

I spent a soul destroying afternoon with my parents watching my Dad, my dear ould Dad as his life force drains out of him as chemo gets pumped in. Cancer sucks.
A white page awaits me.
Paper, water, graphite, paint, bristle texture tone

...now I am spent. Satisfied I've started.

What do you do when you are broken?