of art and of worry. more is less.

life-worries flood in over me, swelling, suffocating. and i wonder if i'm strong enough to weather all this? i want to be, but then again i know i don't always have to be strong. no, not always. i can be strong and weak at the same time, indeed, with my indwelling king guiding this restless vessel through the life-dust. 

and i wonder if i'm supposed to tell you that i am unsure and can't make sense of things right now, like my daring friend? in doing so, do i reveal my worried self? the young one standing behind the curtain of restless reservations? this scares me so, to reflect, to strip my heartstrings bare in this arcadia. this place where i try to make sense of my ruffled and restless feathery-life. but is also frees me.

and then i realize that maybe My Jehovah is speaking to me, through the silence, through this unsure life chaos and the general dust of everyday life. yes, maybe My Prince of Peace is speaking over me after all. maybe the calm is just lurking somewhere around the bend, or it is just settled warmly, quietly, nestled within this restless bird soul in wait, while i learn to move with my life-song's every turning page.

once again i find myself, my life-breath anchored in My Jesus, in the whispered frightened prayers that ask where to go next...and in the more.

loving more + writing more + reading more + creating more+ praying more+ singing more + laughing more + counting the gifts more

so i will decide to live as one dusted off. one who speaks soul-art and lives out loud, even in the silence. to be beauty and artistry and restlessness and the more. one combined. the girl who moves dust, and paints life lovely every.single.day.

yes, i calmly decide, this surrendered artist-life, the beauty-life, the more-life, brings one to a place of worrying less and living more. 

and i am canvas and pen and dust washed away.