How do you know?

You know those times when many things you thought were separate come together and make something you needed but didn’t know you did? Well, this is one of those times in my world!

Here’s the short version:

A new paint journey called Artifact is beginning in the land of Intentional Creativity®. It’s the big summer offering from Maestra Shiloh Sophia McCloud. I’m thrilled!

Except that I’m not quite finished with some of the “prerequisites.” That word is in quotes because many of those, including me, who hang out with Shiloh at least profess to not believing in being “behind” which makes “prerequisites” kind of a loose thing. And I’m almost done!

You see, Hydra’s Flare as she is officially known – who strongly suggested her name be Consider the Lilies, instead – surprised me with another presence in the painting. One of those kind who appear anyway even though I didn’t plan it.

And that second presence has had me asking questions for a bit.

There have also been other questions in my world these days. (We are, for this moment, ignoring the kind of questions one might shout at the tv if one were watching the news.)

Questions from the new friend/summer intern who’s hanging out with me.

And a question in a group where I hang out with another of my mentors. Sam inquired, no doubt in a bid to get us thinking, How do you know when you’ve had a good idea?

My response was of the immediate, intuitive sort. I start crying and then all the other ideas jump up and down.

This is not a surprising answer for me as I have been pondering Frederick Buechner again lately and his assertion, as you may recall, that sudden flashes of tears are the surest signs of truth we get.

And, yes, the editor inside me knows we just said that but she is crying, too, which I take as permission to be redundant!

But, I have a painting to finish! So I headed to the studio about an hour ago, fresh tea in hand, and cued up the frequently philosophical James Taylor to keep me company. And then I saw it.

The second being in my painting had tears rolling down one cheek. Truth tears.

And then I realized that the more noticeable being, the one I planned for, was missing something important. A voice.

That piece will have to wait for another moment, but she’s finished, now, inside me. And I suspect she’ll be back soon, with a great deal to say about voice.

For now, it’s on to opening videos for Artifact which will be, in case you wondered, a medicine painting. That brings tears to my eyes, too.

Oh, all the dots in the painting… prayers for you and yours. For safety. And inspiration. And a way to use your voice.