Sunday, March 27, 2011
I moved my easel to the storage room. Putting a puja in its place.
Once upon a time ago I was an artist. Went to art school. Studied in Paris. Drew in the Louvre. Had a nose ring. Purple hair. Discussed Les Demoiselles d'Avignon as being a seminal work in the Modern Art movement. It was who I was. How I defined myself. An artist. Made it easier to be weird.
But then I grew up and life happened. My sketchbook traded in for a paycheck. My paints drying up as I slogged to work everyday. But I kept my easel in a corner of my house. Passing by it. Watching as it collected dust.
It was like a crutch I depended on long after my leg healed. A prop in the corner telling me who I was. Explaining to people. Oh that girl-she's a little odd because she's an artist. It gave me an excuse. Made things easier.
But as I've evolved. Grown into an adult. A graduate student. A yogini. A reader. A writer. A friend. A daughter. A mentor. A therapist. A cook.
I realized I didn't need it anymore. It kept me stuck. Limited me to this one slim definition of myself. So I took it out.
And is it scary to get rid of something that for so many years defined me? Yes. But my god the space it opened up to become so much more.
What can you get rid of that is no longer serving you? What spaces can you clean out so something better can come in?