This just doesn't do it justice, but gives an idea

It is an exceptionally clear, warm and gorgeous day at the park on the side of Haleakala. The ocean, glowing blue mystery, merges with the sky in the distance and holds the floating green/purple island of Lanai, and the striated majesty of the West Maui Mountains, draped in cumulus. I really do live in paradise.

I am in my little tent under the trees, having a daylong retreat. The tent  is an open container for me, making fragile definition of that which defies boundaries. I am anchored here, pointed out into vast space. The vista is so swelling and magnificent I shut my eyes for relief from it, my perception overwhelmed.

Then I hear the singing of the meadow larks, and the rustling of wind in the invasive black wattle, rumble of some far-off construction equipment, the bark of a distant dog.

I smell the slight mustiness of the tent, carelessly bundled away by the kids on their last camping trip, and the faint sweetness of the wattle bloom. Not much else as my nose has never been acute and even now, I have allergies.

The afternoon clouds are beginning to gather, and cool wind, the same wind that gyrates and swirls the paragliders in bright magic above me, reaches in and touches my cheek, soft and kind. I feel restfulness creeping over me, the need to sleep that usually comes over me first thing when I arrive, as if slipping the bonds of my life were so exhausting that the first thing I can do when I am free is fall asleep- and wake up, my true self.

I saw her the other day. She was young, slim and beautiful, wearing a bright swirly dress, waving to me from the round mirror I glimpsed her in. I cried when I saw her, tears rolling down the frozen expanse of my cheeks. I’d missed her, that happy, brave dancing girl with nothing but freckles on her creamy skin and hair like a gold coin.

Coming here brings her back for awhile, and I need her to stay and play. She’s my muse, my creative self, and while she doesn’t mind being disciplined and on a schedule, she likes it best when I make time for her, feed her with beauty, nurture her with praise, and present her with the occasional rose.

What do you do to nurture your inner self and get him or her to come out and create with you?

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