What if?

I am sitting down in my studio, gazing out the window. The sky, as has been typical this summer, doesn’t know what it wants to do. The sky and I are on the same page, I feel the same way.

July is coming to an end, and I am still on pause. I am not especially keen to work on any particular project, I don’t have any particularly bright ideas. I roam around the garden, doing a little weeding in the shade, deadheading flowers, watching the bunnies chase each other around. They don’t even freeze any more when they see me. The other day, one hopped right up to the patio where I was sitting. The wiggling nose and large round eyes didn’t look right into mine, but the long eared creature quietly sat a few feet away considering which bit of greenery to nibble.

Everything and everyone, it seems, doesn’t quite know what to do with itself.

Back in my studio, I open my sketchbook. Not knowing where to start, I choose a few colours I don’t usually work with, a small palette. I pick up a pencil, a piece of charcoal, and make lines that hint at a landscape. The problem is, they are too obvious, so I think they look wrong. I fuss with them for a few minutes, they pick up a brush, a big, wide brush, a brush that will not allow me to be precious. I dip in paint, then water. I smear the lines that were making me anxious, and watch the materials bleed into each other. I add some white, spray my paper, and mop up drips. Now I have finally left my head. Something inside takes over, driven by curiosity. What if…?

Maybe this is the way forward: what if…

As I sat at my desk to write today, I didn’t have anything particularly inspiring to say to you. Would it matter if I said nothing? Hm.. wrong question, I think.

Instead, I am sitting here letting my curiosity lead the way, lead my fingers to type what comes up from a place that is not my head. Doing this is showing me the way forward. Usually, I drive my projects with energetic determination. This time, I am considering letting the project emerge into itself, at its pace.

When I return to my studio, I see my sketchbook open at the page I started yesterday, when I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t, but as I look at what is there, I see that it is showing me places of light and shadow, places where lines are to be born, hints that I can follow to help it reveal itself.

As I write this, I realize I can do this with everything: art, writing, my course design.I can let the words show up from where they are born, and marvel at what they show me.  The words, the colours, the shapes, the lines, can be my guide. By paying attention to these, I can find a way forward from a different place.  I can use this pause as a part of my process, giving my spirit a voice by quieting the voice of my mind.

It is a new way for me. It may just be the right way, a way fed by faith. It may be the way to giving creativity the reins, the way to a more adventurous and surprising life.