I got out my glue this morning and lots of bits and pieces that were laying on my art table. This was the result. That's a photo of me at age 12 on the upper right side. The rest are magazine clippings, a Bible page, the stencil from my December daily grid, and a puzzle piece that I pulled apart and painted. The text reads:

Somewhere buried inside there is an artist who wants out,
To share a view of the world that is unique.
A little girl who remembers what it is like to focus
For an eternity on a stream of ants

Going busily about their day.
Or just to bask in sun with nothing on the agenda,
Or no worry about a burn.

Maybe the secret is just to open up,
And let it pour out.
No big thoughts about what you are doing,
Whether it is worth the time it takes to do it,
If the time would be better spent doing something else.
Just let it all flow out.
And then later there is time to reflect.
If there needs to be judging, it can be done then.

Maybe the letting go is the seeing.
The ability.
Because that little girl is still there,
With her wise-silliness,
And her yearning for the moment.
And her burgeoning power to disect the mundane
And make it into something worthwile.