The lake greets me this morning

With the joy of two friends who are close

Despite distance or time

Yesterday I attempted to paint this view-

The dark blue-green of the waves

The deep green of trees and hills on the other shore, dotted with houses

The wispy clouds and blue sky

To be honest, it wasn’t good

It didn’t capture all that I wanted it to

The waves too large, the houses too indistinct

But I will keep trying

Rare for me to keep trying at something

I’m not naturally good at

But that’s also what makes it relaxing

I have few expectations when I sit down to paint

So when the clouds, at least, appear slightly cloud-like

And the colors are, at least, somewhat close to reality

It brings me pleasure

I’ve always thought drawing

Was a natural skill

A little akin to have a good voice

Sure, you can be trained

You can practice and get better

But some natural skill must be there

But sitting with a sketch book and a tutorial

Drawing a daisy

I realized it is, to some extent, something that can be taught

With practice and quiet and the right tools

I have been thinking more and more about AI

In  a short time, it has taken over our entire world

AI images so smoothed out they do not appear real

AI writing so well organized but so unoriginal with good vocabulary but no soul

I know AI has its uses- perhaps it can even cure cancer- but it does not belong in creative spaces

The older I’ve gotten

The more I appreciate that which is real

Real friends

The ones who have your back in rooms you are not in

Real writing

The words that sometimes meander to arrive at truth

Real struggle

The kind that doesn’t cover up flaws, pretending everything is okay when it’s not

I love things that are real

Which is partly why I love the cottage

Life is simpler here

No politics to navigate

No people to try and please

Just glorious nature

Watching the ducks as they float by

Uncomplicated

My heart unclenches

I float in the current of the cottage

Breathing deeply

At the cottage I have permission to go slow

To sleep in

To create

To truly notice things

To remind myself of what is real and what is not

To feel the love of God wrap me up like a blanket on a cold morning

I don’t care that I wear no make-up

That my body isn’t up to spec

My hair flying all over my head in the breeze

Here I can set aside concerns and just listen

Listen to the still, small voice