A Favorite Time In My Life

Time is such a notion, isn't it? We humans use a system to organize our experience into past, present, and future, which is useful psychologically and for conducting life's business. When I am creating, however, time disappears for me. So I suppose that a favorite time in my life is whenever I am not experiencing time consciously. That's kind of trippy to me. Whenever I'm writing, such as this post, or making art, or reading, or even hiking or sitting in the woods, that is my favorite time of my life. When I have an engaging conversation with a friend over a meal and my heart feels connected and expansive, that is a favorite time of my life.

I do have gauzy memories of other experiences in the past that felt like this. Camping trips with my family as a little girl, where I played endless imagination games or swam for hours at a lake. And yes, I have memories that are not favorite, that involve pain and suffering, and for me those are always more vivid, and they demand center stage. Over the years I've developed a practice to turn my attention away from them and to deliberately focus on the good. I don't judge or block the negative, yet I try to give what is positive equal attention.

This applies to future, too. I'm very adept at doom thinking and worries, and I've rarely been a dreamer about future plans and aspirations -- it's as if I'm afraid if I dare dream of something I want, "something" will call it arrogance and teach me a lesson by not manifesting that. I know this is rooted in several things: my personality, which is inherently attuned more to negatives; an authoritarian father who wielded power destructively in childhood (and adulthood, to be honest); and a religious upbringing focused on sin, humans being inherently broken, guilt, and fear of punishment. So I have spent my life navigating and learning how to live in a way that allows me more "favorite" times. At 63, I'm getting better at it. 

May As Well Show

Not much to tell. Just showing today's art journal practice.

Feb 26 Art Journal

Every Day Like a Vitamin

I'm 62. My child is 18 and will head off to college this fall. I did the heavy lifting of mothering for 18 years, and while I will always be part of my child's life, they will launch into their own. I have more time, energy, and mental capacity free to use in different ways. Working as a therapist is one project, and I love doing the work. I missed it so much before returning in 2021. 

Another project of mine has been to renovate my life in such a way that I become physically healthier and more fit. Losing weight and regular intense exercise has improved my life so much, particularly my mental health. And goodness knows with the state of U.S. politics, I need to take care of this.

Lately, though, I've noticed I am prioritizing creating daily. It brings such joy and equanimity. It feels as important as eating and sleeping. It puts me in a flow state that enables me to be a decent human being and do good things in the world. But most of all, as I'm getting older, I'm acutely aware that my remaining time is finite and precious. I am going to die. Every day I wake up and put that awareness front and center in my attention, because I want to spend some time every day doing this activity that makes my life rich. When I'm on my deathbed, I want to have no regrets. I want the satisfaction of knowing that I gave myself to life and really engaged.

So every day since January I've been collaging (posted here). And lately I've been making small abstract paintings with watercolor, and converting other painted paper into notecards. It makes me grateful to be alive. And I am grateful to myself that I've made this practice a daily priority.

Practice

The art journal practice is strong. Some days I do one page and others result in several. The process draws me into wordless intuition. It's a little mysterious. I always enjoy it and like the results, and sometimes I feel as though a bit of magic unfolded. Today felt like that.

Art Meditation

When I make art, especially when I am "just doodling," peace infuses me. I cherish the flow state. I remind myself that my journal is a playground, that I get to experiment, that crappy art is permitted, because it's the process I'm looking to engage with, not the product. I do enjoy when art I make is appealing to me or others, and yet my mental and spiritual health require this daily practice of flow, which is easiest to enter when all is permitted and nothing is judged. 

A Little Art

Completed a painting I began a couple years ago. Then I re-worked another painting from eight years ago. Spent the whole of Sunday making art, and it felt wonderful.