A Blank Piece of Paper

When I stand (usually sit) in front of a blank piece of paper to scrapbook it, alter it, it invokes a vast sense of possibility and the great wonder of what is to appear there. Immediately, I am invited to step out of the stream of my knowledge into the ocean of creativity. The interest in conquering technique and the lure of the product pales in the face of this breathtaking void. There is no reason to control and no need to know what will happen when I pick up the pictures... embellishments... pen.

This emptiness of the void is enough to make one run the other direction for years. But when approached simply, the meeting of this vastness becomes one innocent moment at a time. If you have twenty colors in front of you, one will catch your eye, and, with your permission, will pull you like a magnet to pick it up. Without even thinking about it, the ink... the pattern paper... the embellishments... and the color will move to a place on the paper.

I love this effortless, nonverbal answer to our question of what to do. I love this surrender to the trust, that one color and one place on the paper is enough. When I trust this, I am confident to pick up the next object and the next and the next. Then, without warning, I am moving with something that feels so solid and so invisible. It is this incredible nonverbal quality that informs the paper, the song, and the life that we live.

That’s what makes it so interesting. There is a journey, not just a destination. To create is so fascinating when there is the freedom to let anything happen. And, it is never too late to start.