Wk 4: nurturing myself
I haven’t read any books for 743.5 hours.
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I’ve been spending time in my studio in periods of 30-60 minutes, trying for 3x per day. Not necessarily doing anything creative — sometimes just looking around, thinking, and imagining. But I’ve gotten lots of ideas for creative projects. I’ve also realized a lot more items need to move on.
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Almost all of my rocks, and a few ammonite fossils, are now lining a symbolic riverbank in my studio.
I haven’t quite figured out how to create the symbolic meadow I think I need.
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I don’t have any way of knowing if my health is actually fading (like it feels); or if it’s always been at a low ebb, but I was so busy obscuring the truth from myself out of fear that I never realized it; or some 3rd option. What I do know is… I need to think-feel differently about what’s going on with me. (Whatever it is.)
I don’t mind feeling sad or melancholy. I don’t mind thinking about death (which has never seemed very far away). I don’t mind having depressive episodes. All of that stuff has been part of my ‘normal’ going back to childhood.
What I do mind is sinking into despair. Frequently.
Basically, I think the proportions of time that I’m in various emotional states, as well as which emotional states I’m in, are out of whack. As a result, I don’t feel “like myself” as often as I would prefer.
Right here and now, it’s much more important for me to feel right than for my external circumstances to change.
I can’t ever become any of my heroes. They (usually) had support I’ve never had, and never will have. I can’t start at 49; I’m too old and tired. I’ll leave no legacy. I’ll not be remembered. No one will aspire to emulating my life.
But I can live within my means. I can enjoy what opportunities I have and can create.
I can live well. By my own standards.
I can be the person I’ve always wanted to be: myself.
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I’m dancing again.
I’m listening to music again.
I’m thinking about sculptures that move [Calder].
I’m imagining a forest within an estuary.
I’m surrounding myself with Amelia colors [yellow-green, apple green, shades of pink, “delicious oranges”, azure], and my moods are happier more often.
I’m unpacking my own ceramic pieces that I’d forgotten I’d ever made. Lots of curvy sculptural shapes! They feel good in my hands.
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I don’t have to run away anymore. I don’t have to be afraid all the time. I don’t have to live in dread.
I’m strong enough now — emotionally, spiritually, whatever else — to see what possibilities my life holds, and to make the best of them.
I know who I am.
I really, truly, deeply like myself.
My life is what I cho(o)se. My life is my own. My life is good.