I did it! I quit the smoothie job! Hurrah! (Unfortunately, due to my ulcer, I can’t even get mildly drunk in celebration, but I’m totally making myself some fair trade Belgian hot chocolate with Madagascar vanilla and cream tonight. Hells yes.)
It’s amazing how different I feel, how much lighter my heart feels. And as absolutely terrified as I was walking down there this morning, and as sure as I was that I was going to get home and go into a panic over the money I was walking away from, all I felt was calm after. I practically floated home.
It’s a deep, solid, happy calm.
I am so relieved that I only have to work this job 4 more times. Sure I’ll miss the people, but seriously, I live across the street. It’s not like I need to drive across town to visit them. I can go hang out whenever I want. It’s over. It was a good stopover, and I’m grateful for it and the chance it gave me to meet some really wonderful people, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t a good fit. And I am overjoyed at being finished with it.
No more smoothies, no more annoying customers, no more paranoia about my health.
All done, all over.
And it’s like I pulled the finger from the dam on my creativity – I spent the afternoon reworking a painting that’s been bothering me and in my own ever so humble opinion, it looks fantastic. I can’t get over it. I just fell into the groove so easily. I had my headphones on, The Dead Weather blasting, and I danced while I painted.
When I’m really in the zone, I’m pretty funny to watch – I stand with my legs really far apart, one hand on my hip and if there’s music on, I attempt to dance and paint at the same time (you be the judge on how effective that is.) I feel like I’m standing in a river, because everything just flows through me. I feel powerful, sexy, creative. Fertile.
There’s a reason the comparison is often drawn between having kids and making art. I think you touch on the same basic instincts, the same primitive drives – creating something new, watching something entirely fresh grow before your eyes. It’s intoxicating. Sometimes, I can’t stop giggling as I watch a painting grow. I just get so excited.
There are days when I doubt almost everything about the life I’ve chosen. And then I have days like this, and it makes everything better. The spark returns, the muse drops by for a cup of coffee. I’m drunk on exhilaration. I feel frighteningly alive. I can barely focus on writing this.
It’s on days like this where I crave grounding. You fly so high that you actually need to make sure your feet are firmly planted on the ground. I have this overwhelming urge to do really mundane things like clean and organize. Doing the dishes is the fastest way for me to return to earth. As counter-intuitive as it sounds, having that grounding helps me to find this place again and again. It helps me focus on the joy, instead of getting swept away by the current.
Again and again, I am strongly reminded of just how spiritual making art is for me. I may be little old me, making art in a tiny studio without windows, but when I hit that groove, when I find that flow, I’m older than the mountains and bigger than the gods.
I feel like I can take on the world.