Every once in a while, I get this feeling. It starts down at the base of my spine and pushes up and out until I can’t think about anything else. It’s never specific, never clear, but I know that unless I create something I am going to explode. It’s like my body has a vision, or maybe a need. There is something beautiful my hands have to make. There’s a shadow of it in my mind, a good starting place. When this happens to me, the end result is never anything like that newborn shadow idea, but it never matters. It’s not the creation my body wants, it’s the process of creating. Van Gogh said, “I dream my painting, and then I paint my dream.” Nothing about this is conscious, and it doesn’t have to be. I just have to feel. Breathe. And create.