Do It Anyway

 Last weekend I was bubbling with inspiration and enthusiasm. This weekend I have been grounded by earthly realities. I am reminded of some tid bit I once read while an art student, advising that artists not wait for inspiration, but rather always continue working. This is the first weekend I have not picked up a paintbrush in quite a while. I did laundry, cleaned out the refrigerator, paid bills, fixed the vacum cleaner, ran errands, missed my daughter, and painted an old file cabinet magenta pink. All these needed doing. 

 Today I will keep the church nursery, because it is my turn to do so. After church I will work on tying off student weavings and typing name labels for the art shows. My flower painting calls my name, but for now I must walk past my own urge to lose myself in the art studio. I have been reflecting on Wayne's poem while taking out garbage and doing chores. I think I will calligraphy the words onto parchment, even as I would prefer to paint them directly onto the wall.

 Yesterday I was working through a pervasive sense of almost depression. That little dark voice that whispers, "you really screwed up royally and you are kidding yourself if you think life will ever get better than this, you will never fully recover from this mess you allowed an idiot to make of your life and for what ? your stupid intention to love unconditionally?" Getting through such a day reminds me of lamaze breathing during the extreme pain of childbirth labor. The breathing doesn't stop the pain, but it gives you something to focus on. So, I breath and keep moving and doing what needs doing. I am not superwoman. I have to sleep. The chores need doing, so I do them.  I get mad but I let the anger pass through me...God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.  I talk myself into moving forward...Courage to change the things I can. And on my knees I pray...the wisdom to know the difference.  I acknowledge my weariness from the struggle as the thought passes through my mind, a startling thought, that even if the enemy should end my life it would at least mean an end to the worrying and an assurance that my child would be better provided for. I am now Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life? Am I worth more dead than alive? About this same time I am reminded of two conversations with former students in the past week. They are like gifts of ripples in a pond. They told me of my impact on their lives, as if it were a blessing. I was just doing what I do. It mattered to them. It still does. I can't pay a bill with their appreciation, but I can find a peace in knowing that at least parts of my life have been well-lived and not wasted.

 Only God will decide when this battle ends. In the meantime, for better or worse I will keep showing up and doing the best I can each day.

 

"A rock from over here
a feather from up yonder
some water from the sea
gathering up my essence
and putting back together me."
...by Wayne Beckles