I used to be afraid of Mystery, she told him. What if something happened to me that no-one could explain?
I like to watch a good mystery myself, he teased. Especially a Sherlock Holmes.
Very funny. Her eyes flashed. Now, I invite Mystery into my dreams. I dance with Mystery in my studio. I expect Mystery to surprise and delight me, to guide me.
How is that working for you? His voice became serious. I gather all the relevant facts and plan with that information in mind.
I gather my paints, my brushes, my collage materials, and hope Mystery will suddenly appear and carry me away. The itch to paint, never far below the surface, arose as a great need.
I think you are confusing the Muse with Mystery. He liked definitions.
The Muse delivers the gift from Mystery, she called out, already heading for her studio, but she is merely the harbinger.
I guess that conversation is over, he thought and turned back to his newspaper. Maybe he’d check into her studio in a while, and see if she had been carried away.
Creativity gives new forms, new patterns, new ideas, new art forms. And we don’t know where creativity comes from. Is it inspired from above? Welling up from below? Picked up from the air? What? Creativity is a mystery wherever you encounter it. ………~ Rupert Sheldrake
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