Sometimes it’s difficult to put a finger on what’s causing that feeling that something’s missing. I know for me, being a mom to 4 boys, my life can get pretty hairy so most of my life I’m probably missing something. Like an appointment, returning a call, taking food out of the oven… but this emptiness I’m referring to is deeper. Almost guttural. Do you know what I’m talking about?
Before kids. Long before kids. I used to paint… a lot. I always envisioned myself in a career in the arts but thanks to my dad’s blunt unsolicited parenting advice, he once questioned why I was wasting my time studying art when there’s no money to be had in art. His suggestion was to study business, so I changed my major to communication.
So at my core, art has always fed my soul. When I was in high school, I escaped to my art teacher, Miss Turici, where I find refuge and peace in her creative space. In elementary school, I was a doodler. As a child, I would draw at the kitchen table with my mother. We would draw people and laugh at all the crazy outfits we would concoct. It was pure freedom and fun to me.
Then I became a grown up. I guess I didn’t make time for art except on the rare occasion and I hadn’t yet made the connection between the mental clarity creativity affords me and wholeness. Probably sounds crazy.
I’ve recently dealt with some challenging personal issues that were very emotionally difficult. I really felt like such a disconnected and dysfunctional human being in so many ways as I navigated through the debris left from the storm. Then, like a wave of realization, I felt a pulled toward creating art.
The act of creating so beautifully removes the artist from the moment as focus and energy are realigned. It’s truly peaceful and liberating. I’m beyond thrilled to have reconnected with this forgotten aspect of my being.
Look for lots more to come in this vein. Hats off to reclaiming creativity!
