I’ve been an artist longer than I can remember. Sure I sketch and paint, I have my own graphic design business, but it’s more than that. It’s a way of seeing. Of hearing. Or even feeling. It involves all the senses. And it’s a compulsion. If outlets for creativity aren’t formed, if visions aren’t made manifest, anxiety, restlessness and a feeling of loss takes over. I briefly lost my way a few years ago. I got lost in work. My garden got lost in weeds. I got lost in relationship with self and others. I got lost in fear. I lost my mojo, and I believed I was less than. Undeserving of the life I longed for. And what was that life, anyway? It was a dream forgotten upon wakening. A cool breeze come and gone. A sweet scent fading away. Until one day I awoke and the dream remained.
I made some pretty major changes. I had to. I woke up, saw my wonderful path and I wasn’t going to get lost again. My pace is slower, deliberate, so I don’t miss anything. I love like I never knew I could.
A life lived from the heart is so divinely good.