Losing your mojo, is at best inconvenient, frustrating and downright depressing.
“Art washes away from the soul, the dust of everyday life”. This quote was once inspiring, yet after some consideration, ascertained, that it’s that very dust of life that would contribute to losing one’s mojo, mine to be exact. My vitality, my connection with life, my lively energetic self, the very reason I get out of bed every morning and sadly that is where I sit right now … no mojo, no jest, no me! And no inclination to attempt any art to get it back.
I’m told to recognize the warning signs and acknowledge that I’ve lost my mojo. Granted, it doesn’t take a genius to establish that ‘fundamental something’ has taken a distinct leave of absence from my life. The question is. How do I get it back? How to snap out of this useless and unproductive emotion?
I’m hoping the arrival of Spring and new beginnings will inspire some beauty in me and my beloved camera that’s been in hibernation for the last few weeks, might surely see the light of day again or I feel the pull to pick up a paint brush again.
My aim for the next few weeks; find a subject to photograph that I haven’t had the opportunity to capture yet, or produce a new piece of calligraphy for an upcoming exhibition in December, that I’ve yet to get started on. Nothing like a project or a deadline to force you to get moving.
I’m writing this post, whist in the background playing ‘Lord of the Dance’. If anyone out there is a fan of Irish Dancing, in particular Michael Flatley’s “lord of the dance” will know what an incredibly powerful ensemble it is. Whilst some scenes are so serene and beautiful, others are loaded with a power that surges through your body, lifting you to emotions that are amazing to behold. You feel goose bumps settle over your body, the unconscious tapping of your feet and a grin from ear to ear. It’s infectious, makes you positively want to jump up and delude yourself into thinking, you have the equivalent talent to duplicate. What is it they say …’dance like no one is watching…’