“It isn’t until you stop pushing that any real allowing of what you want can take place.”

-Abraham-Hicks

It’s been two years since I’ve posted anything on this blog.  On and off, I’ve asked myself, “Do I have anything to contribute?”

and “Who cares what I have to say?”  The world wide web, an empty void, responds with the sound of chirping crickets.  Sigh.

This reminds me of how I feel like an impostor when people ask me what I do and I answer, “I’m an artist.” Really?  Am I?

My kiln has been fully loaded for months, but I just can’t seem to push the button.  I feel pregnant with ideas for new work, but I just don’t have the urge to push.

There is a roadblock that reaches up to stop me when I think about squeezing my fingers into clay or lifting my paintbrush to the pristine whiteness of paper or canvas. That my creative journey can really matter to others is  something I’m still coming to trust. Nurturing my belief in my value as an artist is an ongoing process, and there’s room for infinite growth.

On the other hand, I have chosen and been fortunate enough to live a very nonlinear life for the past few years.  After having lived most of my life in a very masculine, focused, and directed way, this was an incredible gift to my feminine heart.  I feel such gratitude for being able to slow down, breathe, and take in. I connect more deeply with my man and my friends. I connect more deeply with my home, my land, and the animals.

Now, my practice is to feel each moment and live each day of my life artfully, regardless of the storms or brilliant suns moving through it.  My capacity for feeling everything has exponentially increased.  My palette has expanded.  I love more freely and openly through the beauty and primordial ooze that is life.

A very wise friend recently told me about the difference between hobbyists and practitioners. Hobbyists do their art whenever they feel like it.  Practitioners practice their art through what they feel, no matter what they feel.

So, what is my art?

Is it possible to “push” and still respect my feminine flow?  Or is it more about discipline and moving forward, regardless?

If it’s not a “hell, yes!”, is it a “no”?  Or is is it as one of my mentors, Michele Cassou, said, “Make a squiggle.  See where it leads.”

All at once, the name given to me in a workshop earlier this year pops into my head.  It was “Ms Squiggles.”

Guess I’ll push the button and see what happens next.

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