Today doesn’t have ten things in it because the sameness of things is getting me down a little bit. I am not here to pretend to be up when I’m not. I’m here to tell the truth, so hey, hi. I’m over *waves at all of this* and if you’re looking for a pick me up, I am not your huckleberry. Not today. Today I am mid-conquer.
Today is for a bit of a lonely, aching ramble.
I found this poem about sunflowers by Mary Oliver a couple of days ago.
This line – “…the long work
of turning their lives
into a celebration
is not easy”
This. I do this. I try, anyway, and it is not easy.
Anyway, the poem is making me want to fly into my studio to paint even though I know I will not do a very good job painting sunflowers. I don’t do representational paintings very well. Everything I do is pretty stylized, and I’m pretty much mostly okay with it, but I’d like to get better at actually representing some of the things I want to include in my paintings. This requires practice, though. It requires patience. It requires an investment of time outside of the comfort zone.
We are in the midst of a global collective trauma and PUSHING oneself out of one’s comfort zone is not necessarily a good idea right now. Some of us may be perfectly fine with it, but some of us have frazzled nervous systems, and the known and comfortable are balms on our souls right now. Comfort food of all kinds – the series you’ve watched a million times. The book you can almost recite word for word. The songs you know by heart. The colour palette that feels like coming home. The visual lexicon that flows easily from your paintbrush.
Let it be, she tells herself as she stares down a case of artist block because she’s trying too hard to be a better artist than she is right now. Let it be.
Full Bush Tour – Prompt Seven is about practical magic. I’m an art witch and a swamp witch and my days are shot through with silver threads of witchcraft. The lit candle. The direction I stir when I’m adding honey to my coffee. The fact that some days call for honey in the coffee instead of sugar. The little smoke offerings. The way colour means something and I choose it intentionally. The way I notice, as though the whole world offers itself to my unquenchable thirst for meaning. The way I commune. All of my various ways of knowing.
Like knowing that now is not the time to push myself outside of my comfort zone.
Sometimes my magic looks like “yes” but just as often, it looks like “no”. Sometimes it hexes and sometimes it heals. Sometimes it looks like high holy ritual and sometimes it looks like staring off into space. Sometimes it looks like doing the dishes or putting on eyeliner or drinking a tall glass of cold water with a squeeze of lemon. Sometimes it calls in and sometimes it sends forth. Sometimes it exiles and sometimes it fetches. Sometimes it’s all silver jewellery and voluminous white chemises and sometimes it’s faux leather pants and an Amigo The Devil hoodie.
WoW with GG tonight, I think. I need to be off-world for a while.