Ants in the Garage

I found ants in the garage today, but all I can do is feel grateful for the eyes I used to find them.

I walk back into the studio--a spare bedroom on the first floor--and my thoughts are a dense flurry of stories and connections. So I think while I work quietly in a repetitive task that allows my mind to wander. My arm unintentionally brushes the stack of prepared mica on the old piano against the wall I sometimes use as a table, and I laugh as one jumps out into my hand. “Yes! It is your turn.” How easy it is to turn anything into its own being, like this tiny piece of mica who I imagined patiently waiting for her turn to shine in a sculpture. I carry her to the wall and connect her to the chain after she shows me where she wants to live.

I cannot make this up. The richness of these moments is sometimes too much for me to swallow whole. Instead, I bask in them and enjoy the time we have together while the ants potentially devour a part of our old leaning garage and inevitably cause a new eventful moment that will present itself at some other time.