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This is the picture of hummus I took for today’s post and then realized my recipe is missing.

It’s a weird feeling when you realize the universe is talking to you.  I have a slight confession to make – I’ve been so proud of the fact that I have been pre-scheduling my posts so I no longer miss any.  I write when inspired and have days done in advance.  I like this but it feels like it lacks spontaneity.  It’s Wednesday as I write this, not Friday.

The reason I say that is that all the messages I’ve been getting are still later than anyone else.  You’ll understand in just a moment.

It started with watching Bones on hulu last night.  I was able to get through the first episode before my internet got wonky.  I love Bones.  That show not only cracks me up but I identify with the characters as if they were all members of my own brain.  I love Brennon but last night I found myself drawn to the story in a deeper way.  The plot surrounded the death of a ballroom dancer.  Booth and Brennan went undercover as dancers at an audition for a tv show.  I couldn’t help but feel for the two.  I love to dance.  It feels wonderful.  I’m fairly certain I am just terrible at it but I don’t care.

Throughout this, Angela was having an art crisis.  That I completely understand as well.  She was tired of not living with the beauty of art.  She wanted to be able to absorb the positive nature instead of drowning in the negative aspects of her job.

I reminisce about the times I created art and loved it.  I can barely make myself create most days.  It’s not because I don’t have the desire – it’s because I am nearly 40 years old and won’t have anything to show for it.  I still don’t know who I am.  What I see in my mind just won’t come out the way it’s supposed to.

Then I was reading Being the Verb’s One Question Series (I’m a day behind there too).  Max Rubenacker said the following: “You already know good work, so there’s no risk in duplicating something you think has been successful because it’s been reblogged a whole bunch or gets featured in a museum or whatever. I think that’s where you lose your voice, but not because you’re copying… you lose your voice when you become too afraid to speak. When you don’t think you have something to say that anyone wants to hear.”

There are days when that is the only truth I know – no one wants to hear what I have to say.

In a brave moment, I announced that I was going to submit a piece of art to a show featuring women at our university.  Then I realized that I have nothing to share.  I can’t create anything worth that show.  Why even bother?  They won’t like it anyway.

The universe responded.  How can I ignore such a message?  Does it scare me?  Oh Yeah!  I’m terrified but I am losing my voice.  I’m feeling like a failure because I can’t even get past the fear to even try.  I can’t even think of something creative to do because I know it will be ugly, no good.

I am losing my voice.  I am losing myself.  It took so long to find myself and that inner artist is so timid that I can’t lose her now.  The universe has spoken – I have a piece of art to create.  Just maybe I’ll be telling you where you can see that art next month.  I guess we will see.  As my mom says – they can’t say yes if you don’t ask.