I’m sitting here.
Sizzling with creative power, feeling it prickle in my hands and body, urging me to create something wonderful, something that resonates with what I’m feeling right now.
Words have always been my go-to thing when I’ve felt like this in the past.
But this time…
This time, I’m beyond.
Words won’t do.
It has happened to me before, too. Still don’t know what to do about it.
Still need to find my new craft, and learn to master it until it can become useful in these situations.
In a box in the corner of my living room, still not unpacked from when I moved in here two months ago, sits my painting stuff.
Bought it very, very spontaneously when I was getting my daughter some new hobby materials a while back.
«But… I can’t even paint!!» I remember telling her afterwards when I realized that this was wayyyy out of my comfort zone.
«I can teach you, mom! :)»
And so she did, one night. We took out all our lovely equipment at the kitchen table, and just sat there.
She took her brush, dipped it in the paint in the dish before her, and then drew it slowly across the white sheet in her arts book.
I did the same. She smiled at me.
«Now I have taught you!», she beamed, «Now you can paint!»
Maybe that’s all there is too it.
Maybe I should just get out my gear and start dipping my brush in the paint.
Maybe I should just do it.
Because I really wish I could paint.
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