Spirited artists,more poets and poetry,mysterious mountains

Found the work of Solange Knopf below she says she resisted instruction and just lets her drawings flow out of her.I like her style and am going to try and see what flows out of me,hopefully in such a spirited and soulful way,one can see the dark spirits creeping below in her work.Its just so free in a way that realistic paintings which are often 'all skill and no soul' are not.Although I sometimes like realism, it lacks creativity and soul.Sometimes you get a good artist who gets the full character in each stroke of the paint.I am still so switched off and unable to feel much at all due to the damage to my brain that I have no idea what I can do.In order to keep doing something you need to feel something about it.In order to stay dedicated there has to be some real feeling.I wrote suicide notes yesterday on a whim but feel better today and put them aside.My sleep is going to get better it has too.I have to be okay with this bewildering death cycle.

I think about red,I imagined a painted white timber house with lavender out front and everything antiquated and deep hues inside,celtic pictures on the wall,taking evening walks.Everything on my Pinterest boards (katiewistow) pleases me,really my whole longed for life is on there.
I need a lot of tea today,the confusion,tiredness and dazzlement is deep.I don't think dazzlement is a word but I feel bedazzled.I am often amazed by my capacity to cope, I am one mighty little thing.Tears should be encouraged if they can come which they never seem to and sometimes we must give way.Holding up the sky and ourselves isn't always possible, but I refuse to crash.I am such a believer really.I thought yesterday how much I'd just like to just go mad and be put away in some fine asylum and never see society again.

I read about "the fire in the head" yesterday, I was reading Yeats poem "the song of wandering Aengus" my god I loved it - white moths were on the wing.Its just brilliant and makes me think of the finding of poetic wonders and awen.On that note I read more on "the fire in the head" which states that it comes from a mountain in Wales that if you lie before it you will wake up either mad,dead or a poet.Wales ever mysterious.I am so glad I am part welsh.Its also I suppose connected with Bride; the Irish goddess of poets and her high flames of inspiration.I honour her.Ive been reading the poetry foundation (poetryfoundation.org) it's a bit scholarly but I still think there's much to be found, I read a solemn review of the poetry of Countess Winchilsea,Anne Finch.I really want to make this blog a real proper blog and I think I will eventually,I don't know.At least I could make it pretty and lovely.I had mind to call it wistow cottage and once upon a time to include exceptional women on it and woodcuts,but my memory etc is too far gone now to wonder if it's possible.

I think all I want for my life now is to study and read poetry,to journal,to begin to paint self portraits,to keep loving those I love,to keep being an advocate of passion and wildness,and to heal.What more can I expect of life now.Fate weaves what it wishes.Oh how I wish I could immerse myself in a film or in music,I miss it! I am reminded that I am a soul with a body,not a body with a soul.Isnt that a marvellous thought that we are just these magnets of light and spirit,and we beam around and bear our bodies.It doesn't matter what happens to me my soul is inflight and resumes everything.I want him around to do his tree,to nest and bake that would lift my spirits,oh well.I think I shall read Shakespeare and drink my tea.