The insides of flowers are good for the insides of artists. And writers, too.
That’s a borrowed paradigm of sorts. But I think it’s a valuable one.
If we can’t lose ourselves in the available wonder and mystery, we can’t find new wonder and mystery to create. There has to be a loss of self in order to see newly, to hear newly, to make newly.
Make newly, a strange construction. May I be occasionally graced with making newly. And you as well.