I’ve been in this stuck place for weeks and pushed myself to sketch posies — which usually works — but nothing is working. Painting these flowers has been like slogging through mud. I told myself I must NEED to veg out watching movies all day on days off, but now I’ve had several of these days and I feel like my creative life is slipping away.
The idea of time slipping away: accompanied by the feeling of being very old… a new feeling.
Part of that comes from the pain of arthritis — if you haven’t felt that consistent pain you just don’t get it. I’ve had excruciating back pain and not had that be so daunting as the persistent
pains in my hands and knees.
I am grieving for my old self, my self that is happiest when making marks or writing, exploring.
So I decided to push into this stuck-ness in the only way
I know how: timed writing.
Twenty minutes or two pages daily, first thing in the morning.
The up side is that I like writing and spent years writing in the morning,
a timed dumping of what was in my unconscious mind and needed to get out.
Brain dump. Raw writing.
I choose my trusty best journal, and the prettiest blue ink to begin.
The things about free writing with no direction is the funny stuff that comes up.
I wrote today about hating ironing and loving laundry.
I know, not earth shattering but I had never considered it.
You learn things about yourself when you do timed writings.
You may end up hearing some of the (edited) brain dumps in my posts.
Yes I will edit — some of my raw writing is unintelligible!
It was strange being in a Hand-Book journal, but I have a few of them, a gift,
and so thought I’d try one out. The watercolor paper doesn’t feel the same as Hahnemühle‘s but they are not bad. It may take getting used to the feel of the paper.
To hear more about World Watercolor Month visit here: Everyone can play!
BTW, I am not keeping up. Oh well.
“Memory is more indelible than ink.”
Anita Loos, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
“I think not….”
Me… why I journal!