"All children are born artists. The problem is to remain an artist as we grow up." -Picasso

I'm sitting in the office with my door closed, looking at the vegetable plants that have sprouted in the last few days and wondering how you transplant radishes and carrots or split the roots of beautiful tall thick squash seedlings?  Anyone?

Lane is in the living room with his father putting on a full toddler tantrum about something crazy.  I miss him when he's sleeping, but when he's awake it takes a lot of resolve to get from morning to nap, and again from nap to bedtime.  We're working on our first rule, no throwing in the house.  When I get down on his level and try to look him in the eye, he looks anywhere but at my eyes - pushing his head back, turning from right to left, calmly finding anything else.  Avoid confrontation much?

I've been dancing with two companies which means I work all day and am gone most evenings and busy most weekends and my back and legs and body are sore, but the best kind of sore where you know you're doing something good.  Dancing is the best thing for me.  It controls my anxiety.  It makes me feel beautiful and alive.  It's good news, to hurt this way.  I've been trying hard to immerse myself back into the mindset of an artist.  Keeping that mindset as we grow and are bombarded by comfortable routines is a constant practice.  That's why I chose Colt.  Colt is an artist and there's nothing he can do about it.  He dreams in stories, and wakes up every day with this urge to build something with his hands.

I said a nasty thing to him last night, and I don't know why.  I told him a boyfriend from my past was "a contender for first place".  He let it slide with this sideways glance, this flick of his fingers on my thigh as he brushed past.  Why did I do that?  It's easy to romanticize the past and long for parts of it that are better off over.  Even the bad things behind you can look crystalline in the light of the present moment.  Upon meeting Colt I told my mother the one thing I needed was art and that I was dabbling in someone who could bring it to me, to not take it so seriously MOM, it's just what I need right now.

I soon realized it's what I need always.  I always need to be reminded that my thoughts are shaping the world and sometimes I get pulled into the logic of it and forget that I don't have to live any way I don't want to and I don't have to build the same stories I've been told and Colt reminds me and we fight and I think about how much "easier" it would be to be a kept woman in the 50's or with that other boyfriend.  But in the morning there's brightness and light and I can see the flowers on the trees and feel the aching in my body and the inspiration brewing down in my soul and I'm thankful it's hard because it's also worth it and the only way I'd ever choose to live.


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