329/365: My Safe Place

Too many days away from my art space and a lack of solo time to think is leaving me feeling disconnected from my creative spirit. I wonder why I find it so unnatural at times like this to dive back in, to pick up a paintbrush rather than a pen, or to sit at my art easel rather than my keyboard.

Writing takes me to my safe place. This I know. It's the creative space I go to in my mind to work through challenges. It's what I turn to when stale emotions need coaxing out. It is my spiritual practice. I treasure my ability to visit this place on a whim, to be able to express myself explicitly, almost every time I try. Writing is my therapy and my vehicle for personal understanding.

And sometimes it feels like the easy way out.

I feel I'm not pushing myself enough to grow as an artist when I'm unwilling to work outside of my comfort zone. I think I often hide behind my words, my over-explaining, my analytical left brain, so much in my head, always thinking. Dare I call it my creative cop out? I do not mean to discount writing as a creative act and valuable form of self-expression, but I so badly want to feel comfortable with other forms. I want to live from a heart space, not just a head space. Most days that is the greatest challenge. I want to learn to recognize my instinct when it stirs in me and to trust it. Fully. I want the emotions to come out in line and and shape and texture. I want paint to color my message the way strong adjectives do. I want to face the blank canvas unafraid, as I do the blank page.

Even as I write this and reach deeper understanding through WORDS, I long to express myself some other way. Not because writing is not enough- I'm finding, it's very much enough- but simply because I know it's in me, scratching to come out. I must find a way to move past the fear and resistance. I can only hope that through writing, I will be better able to name that fear and resistance.