I’m A Work In Progress

I’m a work in progress.

It’s taking longer than I thought. Both the unfolding of me and our life transition.

I grasp at lovely things, as if they were branches that will keep me from going under. Until this household move, I had little idea that I thrive on aesthetics, taking in beauty as if it were air.Grab a branch

Since our old home is on the market, loaded with charm and sacred, secret spaces, it needs daily care. I’m constantly, gardening, cleaning, giving it love. But, I’ve given all my love. 

 

Artist Supplies

I don’t paint anymore. I haven’t worked in the studio for weeks, and weeks. I had no idea this transition would totally take out my practice. Everything is out of place. This isn’t good for an artist. We get irascible when we don’t work….no one wants the business end of a stalled artist.  With the exception of Tuesday mornings with my dear teacher, painting does not happen. I’ve started daily ink drawings for Inktober. It’s something.

So, as I often do in times of uncertainty, I look for the lesson. Am I learning patience? Am I learning faith? Is it both….or more? Yes, I’ve considered it’s me. It always is, you know? Not always me, always us…you. We get in our own ways.

The clue I’m the problem surfaced when I stumbled across a wonderful artist living in San Miguel de Allende named Diane Varney.  Diane is a painter and much more. Her story is an account of her free flowing, gypsy lifestyle, loaded with creative pursuits.. There was a time, perhaps even still, she created with what she had, where she was. What an extraordinary skill!  She isn’t some coddled, studio artist who can’t work if someone is jabbering in the background. She’s living her creations  – in her blood. What’s more – SHE isn’t whining…unlike me.Gratitude during Transition

So, while pulling my milk-toast fanny up out of the depths, I go on walks, look for pretty things, strive to be like Diane and occasionally steal my own stuff to take to the new place. In a bold act of insubordination, I’ve stolen back my own Adirondack chairs. Creature comforts.

So, sorry for the whining. I’m a work in progress. I’m a spoiled, blessed, human work in progress;(click to Tweet) reminding myself this most certainly IS what I wanted and I wouldn’t change a thing, except for the timeline. See, God has a totally different timeline. He’s been around for eternity, you know, so what’s a couple months to Him?

In the meantime, I’ll keep focusing on the pretties and the possibilities and sharing both. There is so much good to see. Thanks for listening. Turning my attitude to gratitude.

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10 Replies to “I’m A Work In Progress”

  1. It will be interesting to see your work when you get back to a regular painting schedule. All this time while you’re doing other things those paintings are percolating inside you. When they come out they may be quite different than what you did before.

    1. That’s an interesting perspective, Susan. I’ve been thinking of a way to deepen a previous series and also learning more about oils. If I could just find my stuff! I’ll be sure to share what happens. Thanks for sharing your knowledge.

    1. Well, I’ll be brimming with it then! :). It was just a bad day. The pictures are beautiful of what I see here. The house – not so much. Going to try again to make something happen in the studio today. <3

  2. Thuis summier, after eight intense months my mum (92) died. During all these months even doing small works helped me going on. After her death and clearing her appartement i have startend doing the morning pages again, which helps me in the proces of going on and actually making little works again, as i felt like i had no idea, where to continue after all this, but definitely feeling the need for it

  3. Whining goes well with Wining! Even wallowing in short bursts can provide nourishment if that’s what you need! I love that you’re stealing back the things and activities that give you comfort. All in good time, my friend. You’ll find a new groove in this new place!

  4. Be at peace where you are Michelle. It is hard to do, I know. I got to the place where I had my fist in the air. I’ve been reading The Sound of Paper by Julia Cameron. she talks about periods of drought: “Most droughts of the spirit occur because we have tried to be too self-sufficient. We have forgotten that our creativity is a spiritual gift with its taproot in Spirit and not in our own will.” “We want to be like regular people, but we are not.” I surrendered on that last line. Enjoy the journey in whatever form

    1. Thank you, Lillian. Stellar advice…still challenging at times. “We want to be like regular people, but we are not.” I guess I’d prefer it that way. Thank you for the reminder.

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