I long to find again that blissful plane of pure imagination reached at the age of 3 while making mud pies. The surroundings vanish, the mental image overlays completely and so engrossing is the act of creation that all else is forgotten but flow. Absent the reality of mud-pies, I skirt the creative-flow-rupturing, multi-tasking, income-producing tasks by setting up the environment to ease physical demands (good music, juice, table the right height, lighting appropriate, thick rubber mat...) and work on narrowing my focus to those mundane tasks at hand, performing them with mindfulness until they become dance patterns. If I manage to really be in the task, I find that all at once, I'm making mud pies.
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MugsyNo need to be fancy. Archives
October 2016
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