2 things

Sunday, May 9 

Something I thought was merely a casual and passing interest appeared as a sincere longing the other day. It had teeth.

 I was absent mindedly scrolling through an event calendar looking for interesting things to do over the weekend and saw the Crucible was offering a special mini-workshop weekend. I didn’t see a price; I hoped special meant super cheap. I’ve loved the Crucible from afar for years; the performances and classes are usually too costly for my budget, even when I’m working.

This weekend it was offering a jewelry workshop. I’ve frequently if abstractedly fantasized about designing and making jewelry, but I’ve never taken it past the drifting wishing stage, just a whisper I brushed aside like a fly.

I grew more and more excited about going and then in a seemingly aggressive sentence I read it cost $85. Sure that’s buckets cheaper than the usual class price of $310, but it doesn’t work for me right now. Might as well be $850.

I felt shattered and painfully disappointed.  Really?

I wondered at my somewhat melodramatic reaction.  Why this now? And almost simultaneously I realized I had heard my creative self and didn’t brush it off with excuses, reasons not to do; like I have no visual art experience, what if I’m not good, or horribly bad,  what will I do with it, why would I do it and who would care about it?

Who cares, who cares about it, but me?

Creativity feeds creativity if you let it. If I don’t listen to me, who will?

And later-

I took a walk around the lake.  A cool, steady and slightly icy wind was blowing off the Pacific, playing a riddle with the warm sun. Walking into the steady force, I had an urge to tear off my clothes and hold my arms straight out from the sides, to let the fresh full air enter every pore, get deep inside my head, bones and veins, and never losing its momentum, blast out the back of me.  And take with it every drop of the past, used up thoughts and beliefs, over-played compliments and criticisms, old memories, grudges and injuries; leaving only clean, clear and open space.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.  -John Lennon

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