Ever since the holidays, I have not been able to gain any traction in my work. Like one of those dreams when I’m trying to running but I can’t seem to build up any speed at all. At least I can say that it’s not for no reason. The past five months have been intense, and until about two weeks ago, I had not been feeling so great. Then I received a Shockabuku.
In 2017, The Washington Post brought the Lily back as an online publication with the two-fold mission to, "Empower with news and information and promote inclusivity by exposing diverse voices." I am ecstatic that I have been selected to be one of those voices.
Today I long to keep things simple. Simple mind and simple actions. Slow and simple, I say. The idea of getting into a long blog post about how I’m feeling seems a sad prospect. So, here I am, attempting a simple poem. I don’t write poems that often, but today, poetry seems to fit. So here you go.
I had been working on a painting that wasn’t coming along well. I was attempting to create the first in the series of “breathe paintings” that I told you about last week. What was coming out was the prickliest looking “breath” I have ever seen. It was pointy, sharp, not at all the feeling of inhale and exhale that I had hoped to create. I realized that my state of mind at the time was abrupt, self-critical, and racing like it was running around on fire.
I always want to start the new year bright eyed and bushy tailed, with confidence exuding from my pours and optimism oozing from my eye balls. AND I always find that come New Year’s Eve, I’m so stinkin’ tired from the holiday, that all I want to do is sleep. I mean, who wants to start 2020 in a coma.
