At least one of them this week.
I’m close, very close, to reaching my word goal for this week. I might even be able to get there if this blog post runs what it typically does. So, I think that one is in the bag.
Painting, however, will be the next challenge. I do think that maybe I need to do the same thing with my painting that I do with my writing where I have my set goal and then I have an extreme target set as well. I do like stretching for that higher number. It does help me to be focused.
The picture above is from my painting palette. Yes, I did open it today and for more than just the picture to complete today’s prompt. I’ve been doing prompts from the #21daysinmyartworld as arranged by Tara Leaver on Instagram. It’s been fun, challenging too, because I’ve admitted many things. My own personal 12 step program for art and admitting there is a problem is just the start. I swear, this is the year I get over the mind weeds. I’m done with them. Especially since I know they are stupid and the critical voice is just an instinctual part of me that wants to keep me safe. There’s danger in not being part of the pack. Well, you know what? I’ve never been part of the pack. I knew this growing up. I tried desperately to fit in, to belong. I never have. Now I’ve burnt years of my life trying to be normal and part of any crowd and still never managing it. Well, stick a nail in that because I’m done.
I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe I’m just being hormonal or something. But yes, I long for something different and I know I’m not going to find it right where I’m at. If I want change, then I have to be the one to change. I know this. Kicking out the mind weeds is part of that. Seeking greater growth is part of that. Not fearing that I’ll be judged inferior or that my work is not good enough is part of that.
Or maybe that nervous tingle in my stomach that I wish wasn’t there is just my body telling me I’ve had too much sugar today. Or perhaps lack of a good night’s sleep (this time not because of Temmy but rather because I’m uncomfortable in my own skin right now). Or maybe I’m still being affected by the death of my friend (I know I am — even though we’d never met in person, we’d spent several years getting to know each other and laughing with each other — I can’t believe that we’ll never share anything together again on this physical plane. I feel as if one of the legs of my emotional support system has been kicked out from beneath me).
Or maybe I feel just as messy and chaotic as my paint palette.
What if I choose me to be the magic in my own life right now? What greater possibilities could I choose if allowed myself to be unfettered?
In thinking about those two questions, I got to thinking about the writing in my book today, the third one in the series which I’m starting to come around the bend toward the ending on. In it today, one of my characters blossomed into a new character. I had not seen that coming. It was a complete shift. But what if that was foreshadowing for what I need to do in my own life, become like the ethereal character in my book. Now I must wonder if that was just an exterior change, or if something deeper has changed for this character as well. Okay, that’s what I mean when I say a writer’s whole life becomes fodder for books. I often find reflection in my world as I’m writing in my books. It’s often very subtle and hard to explain right, like this, but I see it.
It might just be time to retreat into the dark cave of my soul and find out what resides there, alone, scared, shivering. Who is that little voice? What light does she hold? What does she want to play?
Every day that I struggle with this and share my thoughts, the more shackles fall away from me. It’s time to be unbound. Life is too short to be limited.