I have a confession to make. If this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable stop reading right now.
Here it is. For the past three and a half months, excluding family and church commitments, painting has been my first priority. I have stayed focused, worked hard, used my time well. I have enjoyed my work very much, but... I've also been dreaming of taking a month off. A month free from deadlines. I've made a list of things I want to make. I want to knit. I want to sew and draw. I want to create fabulous Christmas decor for my house. I want to read more.
Actually, that's what I thought I wanted. I'm sitting here now in my studio. All but a couple of my painting commitments have been varnished and am I feeling a sense of freedom? I confess! I'm ever so melancholy. I feel lost without those looming deadlines and pressure. All of a sudden time doesn't seem to have value or purpose. I don't even know who I am. I don't know how to disconnect and rest. Does this condition have a name? Is it a disease? Am I lacking in one or more of the essential vitamins or minerals? Is there a pamphlet in the waiting room of my doctor's office?
I'm just going to make a few paper flowers to mask the pain and hope that tomorrow I can get my feet on the ground.
Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form. -Rumi
4 comments:
paper flowers are only a bandaid for this condition. i love your artwork, please don't cure yourself of the sickness.
**i advise staying far, far away from a sewing machine. it's as dangerous as drugs, addiction wise.
You know, whatever this ailment is I've honestly believed to be the reason behind why I've been unable to complete certain projects. I've become so invested in them, so devoted to them, that finishing them seems like saying goodbye.
Start the sewing...that'll probably help.
What better time to start preparing for Cannon Beach? Let's get cracking, woman! Wolves! Tigresses! Masks of comedy and tragedy! Full moons and crescent moons and strange, eldritch vegetables! Blood! Buckets of blood! Let's go! ::hop hop hop hop::
Yes, yes, There is a pamphlet for your very condition! You won't find it in your Doctor's office. You already have it. Remember that old owner's manual...."YOUR HEART"?
The language of the heart speaks in whispers. Life is noisy. Deadlines are absolutely deafening. The voice of the heart, reminds me of a shy little girl,who desperately wants to be heard, but most often will not speak until she knows we are really listening. Sounds like she is stubbornly standing in your face with her chin up,hands on her hips impatiently waiting, not about to move until you acknowlege, love and listen to her. How amazing it is when we do...Her ideas, so rich, for every unsettling question, she has a comforting answer. The more we listen, the more we long to hear. This wonderful heart of ours, becomes our portal to inspiration of every kind. Writing any and every thought that comes to mind, no room for editing here, seems to be the best invitation for the heart to speak. Acting upon the little inclings...For you Cassandra...I'd say it may take one good wild ride on you Hot Wheels, in your silk striped P.J.'s,to loosen any chains that bind your heart!
Love You! Janet
Post a Comment