Next week I will wake up in a new state, a new city, a new (temporary) home, and a new bed. My little introvert heart is a-pounding. I'm excited, I'm nervous. I can't wait to get there and I can't wait to get home and be with my husband and friends and dog again; going to our local spots together like we do so very often (thanks It's A Grind, I'll miss you).
I'll make new friends, find a new favorite spot to journal, and develop a new routine. I've done it before and I'll do it again. But to develop a new rhythm there, I have to (temporarily) let go of my old rhythm here. And that's never been my favorite part, the letting go, the starting over. It's no longer a foreign foe, but a familiar exercise that I've learned to trust because so many times it's where something beautiful emerges.
Yet, even the hope of something beautiful emerging can be come dangerous if it becomes my expectation. Even though I've spent a month's worth of something on film and art supplies, if they become my master--demanding perfection--I am no longer free. And freely exploring, learning, experimenting is a large part of what I hope this month gives space for.
"An artist cannot fail; it is a success to be one." -Charles Horton Cooley
It seemed timely when I ran across this quote today. A simple reminder that to go is to succeed, even if I come back with poorly exposed film and indiscernible paintings. To move is progress. To attend is the reward.
Jesus, help me to stay in connection with you, attending to the moments, creating in the truth that I am your beloved. Help me to create out of my connection with you, keeping my hands open as tools, skills, and the words of others come and go.