i'm home sick today watching today's video, and stopped at about the three minute mark absolutely floored. something that Kelly Rae said really resonated with me. "we are all innately creative, and we loose it along the way..." and that is so true. whether we loose it, or its taken from us, it's so amazing that we can get it back again. i tuned 40 last October and it has so far been the BEST and most creative year of my life.
see, in high school, i was in every art class my school offered. painting, drawing, even ceramics. i killed at it. i was awesome. when i went to college, i studied theater with a minor in art. and i was awesome. i was deep into my art. i even had been accepted to San Francisco School of Art for my post grad work.
and then there was a guy.
he was charming, and suave, and because he didn't "understand" or "get" my art, i let it go. i let him, in no words at all, tell me that because it wasn't making money, it wasn't good, and i needed to stop. he never told me to quit, but in looks and smirks little digs... i stopped. and it died. and to no ones surprise (except for perhaps his), i eventually got tired of not being enough, of everything being my fault, of doing everything with nothing in return, and in an incredible leap of faith i left.
but i didn't paint again.
that stayed dead. oh, every once in a while i would buy a sketch book and draw. i still sewed, even knitted and did soft sculpture with needle felting. but i didn't paint. i again became a wife to a wonderful man, became a mother to two amazing children. but didn't paint. i wasn't good enough and it didn't matter anyway. right?
until
one day after getting so angry (at what doesn't matter any more) and my mother becoming one of the few survivors of something called Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome (yes, seriously), my wonderful husband sat me down, went up into the attic and retrieved 20 year old canvases that i had carried around with me and my grandfathers easel. he gently shoved me into what was then an exercise room and told me not to come out until i had painted something.
what that awoke in me was beautiful. and amazing. and it started me on the path to this amazing class, and honestly, i'm sitting here stuffed up to the gills, sneezing, coughing, achy, and yes, in tears because i am so happy to be where i am today (not the stuffed up coughing achy part). in this class, having this catharsis, and being with these wonderful people in my tribe.
see, in high school, i was in every art class my school offered. painting, drawing, even ceramics. i killed at it. i was awesome. when i went to college, i studied theater with a minor in art. and i was awesome. i was deep into my art. i even had been accepted to San Francisco School of Art for my post grad work.
and then there was a guy.
he was charming, and suave, and because he didn't "understand" or "get" my art, i let it go. i let him, in no words at all, tell me that because it wasn't making money, it wasn't good, and i needed to stop. he never told me to quit, but in looks and smirks little digs... i stopped. and it died. and to no ones surprise (except for perhaps his), i eventually got tired of not being enough, of everything being my fault, of doing everything with nothing in return, and in an incredible leap of faith i left.
but i didn't paint again.
that stayed dead. oh, every once in a while i would buy a sketch book and draw. i still sewed, even knitted and did soft sculpture with needle felting. but i didn't paint. i again became a wife to a wonderful man, became a mother to two amazing children. but didn't paint. i wasn't good enough and it didn't matter anyway. right?
until
one day after getting so angry (at what doesn't matter any more) and my mother becoming one of the few survivors of something called Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome (yes, seriously), my wonderful husband sat me down, went up into the attic and retrieved 20 year old canvases that i had carried around with me and my grandfathers easel. he gently shoved me into what was then an exercise room and told me not to come out until i had painted something.
what that awoke in me was beautiful. and amazing. and it started me on the path to this amazing class, and honestly, i'm sitting here stuffed up to the gills, sneezing, coughing, achy, and yes, in tears because i am so happy to be where i am today (not the stuffed up coughing achy part). in this class, having this catharsis, and being with these wonderful people in my tribe.
I love you & The Twin is a wonderful man.
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