The artist steps up to the blank page, the white canvas, or the empty dance floor with a sense of wonderment.
So far, nothing has been created in form. But in her mind, her finished piece is alive. Beaming. Glowing with color and radiance.
She’s done this enough times to realize that the picture in her head at the start may — and probably will — change and evolve as her creation is brought to the world through her expression.
It begins with a step. A single brushstroke. A knuckle in the clay.
And another. And another. Dancing with uncertainty the whole way.
This is the work she sets out to do.
Even though the dots aren’t yet connected as a finished piece, each movement is a complete step in itself. Each line, beautiful and full. Each sentence adds to the story.
This is grace in motion, unafraid of the unknown.
The artist carries a sense of completeness with her from start to finish even though nothing takes shape until the very end.
The only thing certain in the life of an artist is that she is creating.
Instead, look how often we complain that everything isn’t already set for us.
We hide from life’s uncertainties and seek solace in the lethargy achieved through unhealthy — but comfortable — lifestyle choices.
We sell our souls for the paint-by-number version of life and then become disappointed that all we’re left with is a carbon copy of someone else’s version of happiness.
We escape. Carry a chip on our shoulders. And stumble through life as a victim or an assailant — both symptoms of the same mental disease.
We often live lives of creatures, not of creators.
But the fact that we’re aware of this means we can choose.
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