i've hardly painted since december 19. and suddenly i'm back in that place where the brush feels clumsy in my hand, where the colors aren't quite right, where the nasty voices in my head are calling on me to doubt, doubt, doubt. doubt doubt.
however, by the grace of god or of the universe, or by finally having reached 40, or by it being 2014, or because i spent the better part of october, november and december painting happily and i remember what it's like to paint happily, i am pushing forward. moving through. trying to silence those voices and remember what it feels like to paint happily. i am.
i am remembering the conversation i had with one of my children's teachers this week about grit.
i am playing this song on repeat.
i am putting paint on top of paint on top of paint. and then i am scraping away and putting on more paint and scraping again. and again. and again.
i am choosing to not be precious about it - the very best advice from my first beloved painting teacher.
i am reminding myself to release expectations.
i am opening the window to let in some fresh (cold) air.
i am pushing forward.
i am painting.