Making art teaches me–
that life is too precious to rush.
I don’t want to miss any miracles.
And there are always miracles unfolding.
It takes time to truly become conscious of
how art opens the doors of perception and reveals
the deeper parts of the soul.
Drawing, painting demands that I slow down.
Hand made is a slow process.
Writing is using the mind like you use your hands.
You can’t just let the thoughts dart around.
You have to get a hold of what you are trying to say
and mold it, trim it, build it construct it.
And you have to observe deeply
the world of the five senses, so that the doors
of perception can open and reveal the soul.
The practice trains your mind to see more–
to see what is there–
to see what you have missed.
Monkey mind does not paint or write.
The anxious, worried, fretting, multi-tasking mind
is not present to the miracle of a tree.
Art is like catching a butterfly without a net.
It takes patience and perseverance.
I have to be enormously patient with myself.
I am learning to do less, to expect less
but accomplish more of what truly matters to me.
I am learning to be less pressured–
less anxious and more productive
with the important things.
I am learning.
