I thought I was ready for the fresh clean linen smell of 2013.
And then I heard an echo in my soul—the hungry sound of my inner voice reminding me of the year I made a goal to write 100 songs. THAT was the year I called myself a songwriter.
The voice grew bold and challenging. It danced with the idea of another attempt—no, not with songs but with art. “I call myself an artist,” it reminded me.
Yes. Oh big yes.
You know those moments in life when you realize there’s something you must do. Like writing those bucket list items, but for people who are dead serious about their bucket list. It’s the moment you feel alive at the thought; you know that this thing is an act of living. It’s your expression of aliveness. It’s your “I am here” mark on your own days. It’s like you hug your own existence and declare to yourself “I’m so glad you came, now let’s hit the road!”
I saw the wild glimmer of adventure in my own eye. I felt the artist heart in me beat just a little bit faster. I rehearsed waking up earlier. I planned to buy packs of canvas. I imagined stacks and stacks of art.
And then I told Drew, the one with the crazy idea of 100 songs, “I’m thinking about an art goal for 2013. I want to create 5 pieces each week.” I outlined the details, the “rules” and parameters of this goal. He grinned. He sat back in his seat, rubbed his head in his hands, and nodded to support me in making this happen.
If all goes well, by the end of the year I will have 250 pieces to offer the world.
We were just talking about it again this morning over tea and coffee and nothing to do but talk. He asked me how I felt about this upcoming challenge. I raised my shoulders and shook with excitement. I’ve already stocked up on substrates and collage material. I’m already thinking of the resources I’ll need to keep the muse alive. I’m scared. I’m giddy. I’m ready to see how high I can jump.