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.