Bellydancing Sheep and My Comfort Zone
/It doesn't take much for me to reach the end of my comfort zone: Meeting new people. Doing anything remotely sports related (including playing frisbee or, heavens forbid, darts). Driving in more than two lanes of traffic. The idea of wearing make-up. Or high heels. Time to add to that list: doing creative work for friends. I get too caught up in my "people pleasing" head space, which never ends well. I've read that as an artist, and in general, it's good to get out of our comfort zones, and that one needs to do that to grow. So far this weekend I have hung out with new people, used a chop saw, learned the proper technique for throwing pieces of wood to someone who is working on their roof (without giving them a black eye or breaking any windows), AND that I *really* need to start drawing more, more, more... and drawing more than what I am comfortable drawing.
Jon Katz asked me to work on his logo for his redesigned blog. I agreed to work up a few sketches, and then totally froze... he's very honest about what's working and what's not and we seem to be moving forward with some characters I drew last year, while visiting his and Maria's farm, where they had belly dancers performing (so amazing!)... I think belly dancing sheep might work for him, and they should be my new mascots for pushing through my comfort zone :-)
This resettlement period is taking longer than I had anticipated... I haven’t yet found my groove in any aspect of my life! I’ve been maintaining a decent work schedule (this is the easiest one to commit to... I mean, paying bills is a high priority for me 😊)... but cleaning the house, doing laundry, making time for old and new friends and family, taking my car in for an oil change (how did I put that many miles on it so fast?)... it’s all still by the seat of my pants... And to be honest, it feels like I am actually just starting to process everything that has happened in my life over the last... 16 (?!) years? So my head and heart are having several “a-ha” moments a day, which is simply exhausting. It seems like I am spending a lot of time just being tired.
Sometimes my morning chats include other people, sometimes it's just me and Shadow Bunny. I tend to win more discussions on those mornings.
The afternoon hours between 5 and 7 seem to be tripping me up. Work is finished by then and since I now live in an apartment there aren’t really outdoor chores to tend to. Cooking for one means there is virtually no meal planning. Yesterday I drove to a local lake to just sit in the sunshine and listen to the water, and the families enjoying the evening. I felt broken. Probably everyone has had that moment, when you are alone and wonder how you got to this place. By the time I headed home I had decided to sit at my art desk for a while... just as I was finishing two new friends asked to come over for tea and pastries... and for a while the Universe seemed to balance out. I feel like this hare will be my Muse for a while, she seems easy to work with.
This morning I was feeling .... glum. Disjointed. More so than usual. I think I have neglected my little happy voice, it's been doing it's best for a long time, and while I have been feeding it in a variety of ways, I think I need to just say thank you to it for being there for me. And give it a small vacation.
I usually avoid drawing foxes, I think I have done only one or two... but today I finally set up my art desk and took a deep breath and thought about what to draw and now I have this fella and another one drying... looks like Fox decided the timing was right...
I've always been good at settling into new environments, maybe because of visiting family a lot as a kid, then moving often as an adult... and I was a natural when taking on multiple weeks of house and pet-sitting... I can set up the basics pretty quickly, and stake a claim, I can sleep peacefully pretty much anywhere.
This morning was the first time I sat outside with my sketchbook. I had a pear from a friend and sat on the porch sharing it and thanking my Muses for traveling with me. It felt like a long time since I had picked up the pencil to draw, and last night I actually had a moment of "what if I can't do it any more"... it's funny how that self-doubt creeps in.
Now that I've moved, I notice what has always moved.
Over the years of break-ups and moving ons, I have left behind cracked bowls. Holey jeans. Single socks.
