“Your daily life is your temple and your religion. When you enter into it take with you your all.” ~Khalil Gibran
In my mid twenties I found out I had a mass on my pituitary. I was told it could be cancer, it could be benign, it could be a cyst—we wouldn’t know until my doctor performed a surgery to remove it. This surgery meant I could go blind, be on lifelong hormone replacement therapy, or even die.
I don’t want you to wait until something bad happens to dedicate time to things you love.
Countless people I meet share the same story over and over again when I tell them I’m an artist:
“I was told I was good at drawing, but Dad wanted me to be a doctor,” “It reminds me of my love of the theatre. I keep thinking about joining our local community theatre, but I never seem to get round to doing it.”
It seems calling oneself an artist triggers a longing for creative expression in many.
How can we find and follow our inner guide?
While waiting for the big day of surgery, I hid away in the basement of my sister’s home. I painted for perhaps my last time. I painted for the pure joy of painting. For perhaps the first time in my life I didn’t hear a bunch of “shoulds” running around my mind. I painted as a channel, connected to whatever…