All these years I thought that my calling was writing. I’m not saying it is or isn’t. What I’ve learned these last few weeks is that I don’t know where I’m going. I’ve focused too much on where I want to be and if being there will support me, that I didn’t allow all the other creative outlets inside to have a chance to flourish. These are the growing pains of being artistic.
I’ve wrestled with being successful, gaining readers, watching blog stats, facebook comments and tweets to the point that the fun of creating something was lost on me. But not anymore. It started with a simple coloring book. Thinking outside the lines. So I bought two coloring books and immersed myself in colored pencils and crayons. I colored Belle pink with lime green hair. Cinderella was burnt umber with turquoise hair. Nothing as it should be and then…. a door opened. I wanted to paint. I painted a mountain scene. And then I wanted to take pictures. And make a necklace. And cook. And do my hair differently. And change up how I dress. Different eye make-up. I felt free. The artist in me that I hid behind left-brain thinking was born through morning pages and affirmations in forms other than writing. Mandala for my mother. Coloring page for my son. That painted sunset for me.
Me. I think about my development a lot. I hope that through my words someone will grow, but I never once just experience me. This experience, walking the artist path is about me. And that’s where I’m at now: no more stat counting. No more trying to figure out what to write and when to keep people interested. No begging and borrowing for followers or friends. If a person reads and enjoys, fantastic, but this is my journey and while I’m happy to have people along, I realize I have to walk it alone and embrace my own gifts for their uniqueness to me. And in doing that, I’ll lose the envy and what-to-do-what-you-do-ness that I feel about other artists.
Will I write a book? Maybe. Is jewelry design in my future? Possibly. Will I write a play? Who knows? All I know is right now, I’m happy being a person waking up from the darkness of planned creativity and going through the infant stages of exploring all things creative, be it writing or coloring and being in love with the 128 colors in my box. I’m nurturing me, exploring what I’ve stifled and seeing what’s in my knower.