I am having one of those days when I know what I should be doing, but I keep circling around it, nibbling on the edges of the project, but not really diving into what I know I need to do—the core work. I notice that for some reason, I am afraid….afraisd of what? Of success, of failure? I love doing this work, but I am avoding it and dreading it as though it were horribly painful to do, as though I would be risking my very self. Yet the act of ‘saving’ myself from this ‘terrible experience’ will actually sabotage my success and bring actual suffering to my life.

I find I must coax myself, not bully nor command myself (that makes it worse) and I think (I HOPE) I am picking away at it enough to tip the scales so that what remains is smaller somehow, less terrifying.

But really, what the heck?!?

Like many other people, I am susceptible to the doldrums of a northeastern North American March, when the sky is slate grey nearly incessantly, and it might be raining or sleeting or hailing or snowing…or all of the above in any given day. But I think it’s more than that. My fear of diving into this project, wherein I must breathe beautiful life into someone else’s words, someone’s dream, is (yes) partly

In the rhythm of the rain

neurotic “I’m not good enough” artist-thinking…..but it also fear of being too vulnerable, being nearly subsumed by the tempest of the text in the sea of characters as I struggle alone in my fragile little boat.

And that and a pony will get me a pony (sigh).

I will now fortify myself with hot chocolate and dip back in to this work, sending out a “halloooo” to all you other artists out there having a blue grey work day….soldier on, friends. What else is there to do?


Photo on right by Balkhovitin Dmitriy; node photo courtesy of Johnson Art Museum