Art

I’ve been afraid of art since some moment in my early childhood where creation became marked by perfectionism & self consciousness.

As a child we are so perfect 💛

So so whole. We create without a care in the world. Everything is so natural…digging in dirt. Putting things in our mouth! Paying attention to the smallest details. Singing, running, being loud.

At some point in childhood, we are all (potentially) in our most natural expression of self. The WE we are without the heart closing off.

I miss it….i miss it. Am I the only one who wants to be unrealistic and become more like a child everyday?

At some point in my life I created without fear. I access a lack of self-consciousness now mostly in my writing here. But visual art - drawing, painting, creating worlds with our hands - I access sparingly and mostly only through other people. I’m struggling to even write it here. 1:11pm.

I…love…art. I love color. I love expression. I love it. I love it. I love it. I don’t have words for it. I absolutely freaking adore to the edge of the universe seeing people’s inner creative visions. I ADORE it! Art gives me hope. Art gives me passion. Art gives me life. Art in every fashion. Writing that strikes a chord deep in my heart. Dancing that moves me, swells me, loosens me up. Visuals and color that fill my every sense. I love making art 🩷and I would choose love and authentic expression every day over my fear of it.

So I bought mixed media pages, a little sketchbook (so small it’s not intimidating), a silly watercolor book just for ease of learning it, and my absolute favorite Faber-Castell sketching pencils that I felt empty without. I push away almost everything I really love. I have a deep fear in art of not being enough. As simple as it is, I’m proud of myself today. All I can do is try

THE MOUNTAIN REMAINS!!!!!

🧗 love you. what’s your summitting plan?

⛰️