I went back to the MFA today, yes I did. I wandered through the song exhibit again (“why, hello Mr. Bowie”) then strolled through Renaissance Italy, ancient Egypt, 16th century Chinese furniture and beautiful ceramics: “cups with boy, chickens, peonies,” “box with a beetle, scorpion, toad, centipede and snake,” “brush holder with auspicious symbols.” I found myself back in the kimono-lined Japanese luxuries room, and paid another visit to the Buddhist temple room, dimly lit walls patterned with the flame-like shadows of stone gods. Back down the hallway of glorious beasts, with that creamy blue lapis lazuli paint that I could get lost in.
I took a break in the echoing Sargent mural gallery, sat beneath a mural of a bow and arrow wielding centaur and ate an incredibly loud apple. I was reluctant to leave. Lacking inspiration can make me feel curiously empty, depleted. This helped bring balance.