I was reading an article about how the internet breeds impatience. We get answers so fast; we get orders so quickly; we expect results NOW. I swear, the weeds in my garden must be linked up: they seem to be zipping up tall with that same speed.
I’ve been spending a LOT of time in the garden. Me against the encroaching weeds. I’ll never win. But I’m determined. And that means, hours of pulling out what I don’t want and claiming the space as mine – with mulch.
I come back inside. Worn out. And ready to sit and do my art. And what is so wonderful about my art? I can take all the time in the world.
I can drop into slow motion. Do any of you know how good that can feel? Just to drop in. No pressure. Just feeling hands, feeling fabric.
And this piece is the absolute slowest I can remember: I do a part; it needs re-doing. I put it together; it needs re-understanding. I add a layer; the colors in different light vary, need to be taken apart, re-dyed, re-positioned.
And yet, I’m loving it. I’m appreciating how much I enjoy each dilemma, each better solution. I’m noticing how much pleasure I get from the work itself, even when it’s not instantly “successful”.
And, I’m particularly glad that it’s so nice and slow. It feeds me with its demand for calm attention. Soft focus.
Can this be: a moment of peace?