Many years ago, I lost my art practice.
In my childhood years, I made clay figurines and Christmas tree ornaments. My mom sold them to her co-workers and made a few dollars here and there. Every year, people would look forward to what I would make that year.
I don’t remember when I stopped making my art.
I went to college on a volleyball scholarship and encountered the “Art World” which included harsh critiques and talented artists who were practiced in their craft that I compared myself to.
I didn’t have the same skills that my classmates had.
I had spent more time on volleyball courts than I did aching over my art.
Art felt as natural to me as breathing. I started off nervous but hopeful that I would learn the skills that would transform me into an artist.
After a few critiques of having my art and tender heart ripped to shreds from “constructive” criticism, I left my art practice behind. I felt like an outsider, an imposter, and my art wasn’t good enough to cut it in the art world.
I took the safer path of studying counseling instead of art therapy.
When I was a child I dreamed of having a business making my art and I couldn’t see how I could ever make a living. I would express myself through words and song, colors and textures. I would explore my feelings through creative expression.
But in this world of elitism, I stopped making art. It was too painful.
Even though art became to painful to trust, there were glimmers.
One of the last classes I took in my college degree, was an outdoor studio art class. My professor gave me a quick watercolor lesson and armed me with a few paints and pushed me out into nature.
We painted in the wilds of Wyoming and took a class trip to the Grand Tetons and stayed in a rustic cabin on the snake river.
I fell in love.
At some point, I fell in love with art journaling too.
But the pressure to be good was too great.
As I look back on my life, there have been 2 great competing forces, the pressure and desire to make money and the calling to make art.
A great dance, pushing and pulling me here and there always with the message, “you are not good enough to make a living through art.”
But, I don’t just want to make a living, I want to make a life.
It will only happen if I include art.
So here I am. Reclaiming my inner artist.
She doesn’t care much about the outcomes of what I create, only that I create with my whole heart.
She wants to express and push the edges of who I am.
I can’t wait to see where this journey takes me.
And I wonder if you too have ever been at war with your sacred calling, fearing you are not good enough or it’s impractical or will cause you to be ridiculed or abandoned if you pursue it?
In this season of life, we need more people who are embracing sacredness over war, hatred, fear, and powerlessness.
In this space, I invite you to grab your paints or whatever creative medium calls to you and join me to pursue your sacred calling. Maybe it won’t be so scary if we do this together?