How much is enough?

How much time do you spend weaving between polarities?

Along the wiggling line of progress,  between way too much and barely enough.

It’s not just me, is it?

How much time do you spend weaving between polarities?

Along the wiggling line of progress,  between way too much and barely enough.

It’s not just me, is it?

At the end of last year I committed to a daily drawing practice: every day I’d work on improving my observation, coordination, imagination. Every day I’d give myself at least 5 minutes or so of drawing, not much more.

Just enough to open the flow of ideas at the start of the morning, to build on the muscle memory of drawing, to break through the first layer of inertia. 

 

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I really wanted to practice the drawings I find difficult, but to begin I was happy with doodles to see what emerged.

 

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I told  folk about this BIG plan of mine, I wanted the accountability. (I might have told you too.)

 

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Just like the morning pages practice, the regular journaling habits, the daily yoga and meditation time, and all those wholesome promises I make myself…

 

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I wonder to myself: is it the making of the promises, in and of itself, that makes me rebel?

 

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“Who am I to tell me what to do??” 

 

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In the attempt to outwit my own ridiculous self sabotaging mind games, I ended up bending, breaking and rewriting every aspect of the plan:

Daily? nope. Drawing? meh, kinda, more splashing around in the shallow end of my abilities.

 

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But what did emerge instead was the beginning of some compassion for myself.

 

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What if sloshing watercolor about, writing seemingly meaningless words, letting patterns fall through my hand was enough?

 

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What if I was still creating, still making, still bringing out ideas into the open. What if that was enough?

What if my obstinance and non compliance to my own self-set challenge wasn’t just the precursor to another ‘Fk this, I can’t do it’ and instead I just kept moving, kept making, kept playing.

 

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And free from the berating inner monologue, occasional actual sketching would take place.

 

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In the spaces in between, I can see, this is a part of my process I need to work through, not against, not in spite of, but with. With an understanding that only I can afford to myself.

So page by page, I’ll continue.  Do you have a daily creative practice? I’d love to know what shape it takes.


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The in-between

The edge of the fold.
The home of contention and conjecture,
Not either or  but both and.
It’s just where the horizon touches.

The in-between is the place I love most.

The transient, the liminal,

The dusk and the dawn.

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The turning of one into the next,

The edge of the fold.

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The place of contention, conjecture,

Not either. Both.

The place where the horizon touches.

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The moment in between.

The pause.

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Fuelling the feud against the resolute absolute, the tightly defined.

Why are we still doing that anyway?

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When instead we could butterfly between the two,

Share the energy,

Dance in the gap in between.

 

The illustrations in this post come from my 2018 Sketchbook Project book which is so nearly done! I’ll show you the finished book very soon!


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The Power of ‘Yet’

I love The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, he describes essentially what Buddhism describes: live in the moment, because very simply, that’s all there is.

Today I was thinking about the Power of Yet.

As my thinking shifts from the very rigid what I can do VS what I can’t do – a third option has opened up: what I can’t do yet.

I was looking at the weights in the gym this morning. I’m progressing steadily and loving it. Even the aches. I’ve even embraced the aches. The far bigger part of the battle, more than toughening up the meat of my body, is toughening up the silly little girl whose voice is so pitiful inside my head. (I’m winning her round too). I realised today, what I previously wrote off as impossible, I’m now coming to consider as just not yet. Later. All in good time.

It’s a good feeling.

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