On [the possibility of] Something New.

Because knowing you are loved feels like jumping on colorful pillows in the heart of Paris.

As far back as I can remember, I've found great peace in the solitary act of taking scissors to the pages of unwanted magazines. I find joy in the hunt for a word printed in a cool font, or a breath-taking photo on glossy paper. I find hope in the possibility of something new.

I never set out knowing what the end result will be. It's about the journey, the practice, the art. It's about waiting for the puzzles pieces I didn't know had shapes to form by way of my hands and dull scissors.

Once my fingers ache from holding the scissors a little too tight (the way we hold our dreams), I lay everything I've found out around me (it is my safe circle, like in A Little Princess).

Most of the items never get used. They are swept into the trash or a "next time" folder. The lucky few articles I want to used are layered and glued and re-cut to lose what it was and become something new. Always something new.

Today I made that collage above.

What does it feel like to know that you are fully and completely loved? It feels like jumping on colorful pillows in the heart of Paris. Let me tell you, that's how it feels.