Spiraling

Years ago, in a writing institute, I was invited to draw an image of my writing process and then write about it. I scribbled something like a corkscrew to mirror the way my brain works, one idea leading to another and another and another, turning back and around and deeper in on itself.

The unfurling of leaf and petal evidences a mathematical grace of golden spiral that my mind does not. Before the Hubble telescope, the cosmos itself looked random. Now, though, we can see deeper and deeper into space, where the same spirals naturally unfold.
Perhaps my mind, like plant and cosmos, follows a magic formula of its own. If only I could know it, I think. Then I might create something almost as beautiful.