Trust the process.
Trust the process.
Trust the process.
It is not about the painting that comes out of the brush.
It is not about putting something on your wall or getting it right.
it is about dancing with fear, finding courage, making your mark, showing up for yourself, being willing to fail, being willing to try, being human, finding forgiveness, allowing imperfection to be perfect, realizing we swim in an infinite sea of love and are infinitely loveable as we are, without knowing more than we do or doing more than we do. When I hit the wall, or the wall falls on top of me and threatens to bury me alive, I pull out the paint and the brushes and every scrap of paper or wood or the back of another painting or the back of the door or the top of a book and I paint until my brushes crack and lose all their bristles and the tubes are empty and the laundry line is fluttering with dripping apples, lemons, and their shadows.
And sometimes it is only when, exhausted, I stand at the sink washing my brushes watching the paint swirl down the drain that I feel alll that sense of fear and oppression lighten and go away and the delight and fun and playfulness shows up.
Aaaaah. at last.