I sat there, unsuspecting...dare I say, indifferent? Then it happened. A creative idea made its way into my mind's eye. It had texture and color and challenges that made me nervous. It was fluid, told a story, had a beginning, a middle and an end. It did not emerge out of something I had recently seen nor was it inspired by school, work or an online challenge. It was a unique artistic concept for me to explore at my leisure.
But where did it come from? Oh hell, this detail was unimportant right?. What was important was that it wasn't, and then it was- and that it was mine and no one else's. So I sketched in my art journal for the 1st time in months. I had improved since the last time I doodled out an idea. How refreshing. I had become accustomed to expecting more from myself than my hand could deliver. I wrote out instructions for graduating the values in the margin and identified the shading. It was a recipe for an oil painting and it WAS NOT a still life.
I drifted back to it's origin. Where did it come from? And then it hit me. The creative thoughts flooding my mind came from the quiet space in between the activities that constitute "my life." I had just spent the last few days floating on an inner tube, taking long walks and enjoying my family. I had noticed how fast butterflies flap their wings; I had waved hello to passing strangers; I had strolled. These activities allowed my mind to decompress for the first time in nearly a year and there was space for creative thought to bubble to the surface. This is an important revelation indeed.
Quiet, balanced living does not come naturally to me. It's just not my default. I lean more towards the hustle and bustle, flippity floppity, READY-SET-GO! style of living. But if my artistic process would benefit (not to mention my mental health) I might give it a try...At least until next semester :o)