Thursday, April 24, 2014


When I finally begin to write, thoughts flow easily. But I second guess myself. Sometimes, my writing is like when I speak, it stumbles and freezes. The page is simple to fix mistakes, the delete button erases any regrets. Speaking, there is no way to swallow words back in.
I feel as if lately I have been on a more curious path. It's nice, I feel childish in the best sense of the word. Imagination is like a muscle, I have come to find, and without use it atrophies. Yet, daily exercises bring back the sense of wonder in existing.

Rory and I moved into our new apartment. The space is unique, with exposed wooden beams, deep pine floors, and a huge loft. It's interesting, we were both cellar dwellers all our lives until this home. Now we sit atop a pyramid it seems. The space invites out my creativity. I have begun to sketch again, as well as paint. Painting feels good, but my god I am rusty. There is something to be said about just the experience of putting paint on a canvas. That for me, is also like writing. It's a struggle at first, I hem and haw at where I should paint the first strokes. I want to be deliberate in my work, but not forceful. Does that make sense?
But once the paint bleeds into the canvas crevices, everything becomes easier. My brain switches, as if I immersed it into a tank of creative juice, and it soaks up ideas and visions like a sponge. But it is all practice, and I slowly learn not to be afraid to put paint down on the bright white block. With painting, it too is easy to fix mistakes. There may not be a "delete" button, but paint is malleable. Strokes that scared me at first are pushed around to make a beautiful, reflective ocean surface. Or deep indigo sky. Nothing bad can happen when painting. Creations are all unique. 

I have been trying to practice in all parts of my life, remembering to keep awareness in moments passing by. I start my teacher training for yoga May 1st. Yoga is easy too, there are no mistakes, only the self exploring. It's funny, sometimes my body feels alien to me; heavy and awkward. In yoga, I find lightness, stillness, and patience to practice. The mind-body connection strengthens, and the senses sharpen. 

I am learning that life is a practice, that there are no mistakes to be made. There is not that delete button, and challenging experiences may not seem as malleable as paint, but the strokes you make in life lead to a big beautiful picture.

That you deliberately stumbled upon. Mistakenly. But perfectly meant.

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