I’m an artist. I am a painter. A drawer. A digital illustrator. A shower-singer. A sketcher. A doodler. A creator. I create! I make! I do! I do! I do!

I create!

I do!

So where is it? And why do I feel guilt around not being where *other* artists are?

I think it starts with

consuming

watching

scrolling

scrolling

scrolling

comparing

scrolling

comparing

There seems to be a disconect between me creating and me showing. When I make art that I know will be seen, or with the intention of the final piece – a product that will be observed, judged, percieved – I stop. I get halfway through the project and then I start comparing myself to what other people (artists which I admire) are doing and posting and the thought alone of seeing myself where I am and seeing them where they are – where I wish to go – is overwhelming.

How do I go from this to that?

And then it hits me.

Cliche, yes, but it’s the journey. The process. I am missing the whole ride because I am imagining a future that hasn’t happened.

Solution?

Going back to just doing.

So here is this post, that has sat in my drafts for two years, blank, except for the title.

One idea.

Many ideas.

Which I left tucked away on a shelf, thinking one day I will get there. I will take you down and turn you over in my hands and sigh in relief that now, finally, is the right time.

No more waiting. Here I am, doing.

I’m sure I’ll stumble. And I’ll thrive. And I will smile because finally, finally, finally, I show up for myself.

/caption

/skiing in the fog, semenic february 2023

How have you showed up for yourself today?

I’m grateful to have been able to create this space for myself on the internet, a space where I can post authenticallly. Because this in itself is a grand work of art. A collection of my thoughts, art, influences. I think journaling can be one of the most therapeutic forms of expression.

I’ve noticed a difference in my mental health when I am writing versus when I am not writing. On days on which I have ommited to journal, I was too tired, I forgot, etc. I am significantly more irritated, depressed, unmotivated. I think one reason behind this would be that journaling, is a moment taken to yourself with your thoughts. You are concentrating so hard to find the right words to put on paper, or the words flow out of your pen before your mind can voice them. Either way you are fully involved. Present in the moment. In a state of flow.

Have you taken a moment with yourself today? If yes, how did you do this? If no, why not? What excuse have you given yourself to put off even one precious moment of answering only to yourself?