Joy and gratitude in abundance

I woke up this morning wanting to journal, so I rolled over and dragged my large sketchbook/journal off my night table where I always keep it for just such events.  First I did my morning pages, a la The Artist's Way, then began writing for real.  Two hours later I was still at it.  Scribbling madly, I hadn't even gotten up to use the bathroom yet.  Chris came in to see if I was getting up, saw I wasn't, and got ready to go to the gym without me.  When he got home, I was still writing, though by then I'd at least used the bathroom.  At 1, Chris came in again, and I figured I'd better get up and get some breakfast at least.  While I was in the shower, I got more words so rushed to the paper to put them down.  That started a whole new torrent.  I continued until 3 when I knew I needed to stop or platz.

I came out to the studio and began blogging.

After all that, I'm feeling like I haven't really accomplished anything today.  Because I can't see it on canvas, I guess.  But I'm also writing a book.  To get that finished, I probably have to do some writing!  It's interesting to notice how different that feels, how unlike creative work it feels.  How difficult it is to be able to discern if I've really gotten anything done or not.

But today I do know that I did.  I wrote about a former relationship in a way that helped me move through the pain that is still there.  I might not include it in my book, but I might, and either way, it's healing and worthwhile.  I have to occasionally remind myself that I don't always have to be accomplishing something to be a valid human being!  It's a challenging balance for me sometimes, especially now that I'm doing art full time - I constantly feel like I need to be creating or working towards art somehow or else I'm not "earning the right" to be doing this.

Yet I am happier than I can ever remember being before.  Every morning I wake up and can hardly wait to get out of bed because there are so many things I'm excited about doing.  I want to paint.  I want to draw.  I want to write.  I want to go through my photographs.  I want to begin a new canvas.  I want to write someone about teaching a class.  I want to write a new lecture then find someplace to give it.  I want to create a new class then find a place to teach it.  I want to prepare for my current classes.  I want to teach them.  It's all so satisfying.  I can hardly believe how blessed I am to be able to do this full time. 

Each day presents new miracles, new opportunities, new exciting options.  I eagerly anticipate the next new surprise I'll find awaiting me.

Friday a woman called to ask about my doing a commission for her.
Today a friend wrote with the possibility of someone doing an article about my gorgeous studio.
Thursday I spoke with a friend from Texas about speaking and teaching in her home town.
Another day a friend asked me to be his creativity coach.

That's what I mean.  It's things like that that I couldn't have thought of on my own which keep happening.  God is in charge, and I'm loving the way he works.  I feel so led in my work, so clear and certain that I'm doing the right thing and am reaching just the right people who need to hear and see what I have to offer. 

I've always believed in the saying, "Do what you love, the money will follow."  I am living proof that it is true.  Every day.  Every moment.  Such joy and satisfaction.  I'm only grateful.

I was wondering if my tutoring career would go out with a bang or with a whimper, and I guess it's gone out with a whimper.  I was supposed to tutor 3 students today to help them prepare for exams, then it snowed and school was canceled for the day and 2 of the three students canceled and the one that came learned sweetly then left without an awareness of how momentous it was for me.  I might see one of the others tomorrow or in January if exams are held then, but basically I'm done - or not - sort of.  And now I'm alone in the studio, part way into cleaning up my space so I can start anew.

It's quiet.  Very quiet.  There is snow covering the ground, but dead leaves still extend through the blanket of white.  Birch leaves and holly's green and the gold of the wind chimes break the monotony of the snow and tree trunks.

I sit, alone, maker of my own fate, having decided to leave behind what I've known best for almost 24 years. 

Breathe.

Breathe.

Allow the silence to resonate within.

This is my new life.  Quiet.  Spacious.  Thought-filled.  Inside my own head, expressing outwardly in word and image.  No need to explain derivatives or chemical formulas or metaphors or how to conjugate pintar.  Instead, the opportunity to derive my own formulations and metaphors for life and goodness and painting.  It will be different to be doing more than teaching.  A first for me.

I welcome the newness.  I breathe into this new life and am grateful.