There was a knock at the door and I felt panicked. After losing a house, a car, a beloved family member (not listed in order of priority)… I never lost the fear that something could be taken away from me in an instant or slowly over time. Why do I focus on that stuff sometimes? None of those things was initiated with a knock anyway.
Who knows, maybe I could have won a sweepstakes. There could have been a person with a giant check on the other side of the door. Or a better religion… or a nice vaccuum.
I don’t like it when I feel afraid like that. I don’t like it when I feel afraid to get it wrong. It’s too much work to be afraid. The brush will do something I hadn’t expected. Life will take a funny turn. I’ll disappoint, be impatient, or I’ll even be thoughtless. I was once too quiet because I didn’t have enough money. I wish I wouldn’t have done that. But I didn’t think I deserved to speak. I was afraid to speak because I got the worth of my voice mixed up with the number in my bank account.
I think a lot of us stay too quiet because of money or we just say what we think is going to get us money. Not in a terrible way, but because we want to thrive. We want to eat. So we say what we have to… or what we think the people with money want us to. Job interviews… What we create. .. How we talk about what create. .. Maybe it’s just me.
Anyway, I write all of this to set it free. My voice has hooked up with a raven and she’s flying all over the place with her mouth open. She wouldn’t let me paint her with it closed. And she wanted a feather tattoo.
Messy Hands Studio 