Hi friends, I'm circling back around to writing and posting on my blog. There's a lot to process after the year we've all been through, and I'm going to start with the post below, that I originally wrote for LinkedIn. Please check back often for more musings, observations, rantings, blessings and colorful thoughts. Cheers to and love to you!
I’ve had that topsy-turvy, scrambled egg feeling these past few weeks. Sometimes agitated, sometimes hopeful, occasionally motivated, usually tired, ungrounded and scattered. The same thought would drift in, adding to my confusion: are those commissions, projects and clients that were successful and enjoyable gone, and if so, for how long? And why is it hard to muster any interest in art-making or new business activity, especially since I have so much free time? Isn’t this a great time to strategize, plan, and forge ahead?
I can’t visualize where my talent, work experience and reasonably sane self will fit in, much less be paid for it. Fit into what, anyway? So I’m revisiting my description of scrambled eggs, changing it into something even more exciting. I’ve decided to feel like a pile of compost. And somehow, this comforts me. Full disclosure: I’ve never had a composter and don’t know the science of what goes on in there. But green-thumb friends have spoken lovingly of the magical properties of this earthy mix. I have watched them turn and tend to their ‘black gold’, spreading it around in many areas of their garden.
Compost. Old, rotting items like spent egg breakfasts, coffee grounds and the houseplant that didn’t make it. Yard trimmings, orange peels and Sunday’s paper. Things previously purposeful and enjoyable, now tossed into a pile... of black gold with magical properties. When I consent to feeling like this, the thoughts of old clients and projects now have some meaning because they’re coming together with alchemical potential. Now it doesn’t matter if I can’t think up a new twist on an old project - that’s like holding up a potato skin saying “I loved this baked potato, maybe I can bring it back?”
When I agree to let my experiences compost together, then right now it’s ok that I can’t create a business plan or redo my website. I am tending to my ‘black gold’ by listening to a random but interesting podcast, pulling weeds or trying a new soup recipe. Don’t get me wrong, there is still anxiety around bills, work, and What Next? But before the compost idea, I did not have a response to this. Now, I find it appealing that my spirit can be spread around someone else’s spirit garden, and I don’t need to know whose garden or what’s in it.
I’m increasingly drawn to allowing the new to emerge instead of re-packaging the past, and this settles me down when my brainstorming fails me. I can’t answer what’s next, but I do know that I can do more with compost than I can with scrambled eggs.
Well hi there, you're here reading my blog! Yay and thanks for the good energy! I'm a process-oriented artist (I respond as I go - nothing logical or linear for me) and I write about how this approach translates into the big 'artwork' of life. What if we're reinventing ourselves all the time? What if this is really very okay, and not something we need to change? Hmmmm.