I have a confession. I didn’t do any painting until the latter part of last week. Even though I have it scheduled on my calendar and have been pretty good about adhering to it, time got away from me.
What happened? The maze of my thoughts distracted me. Well, my meditation practice fell off, particularly meditating upon waking while still in bed. From the moment I wake up, my mind is racing. A flood of thoughts rushes around, and it can be a bit chaotic. I have found that meditating first thing in the morning helps ease that frenzy and creates a smooth transition from a state of sleep into daily activities. Those fifteen minutes of deep focus set the tone for the day and lead to better productivity for me—or a better sense of it.
Now, when I realized that I had not meditated every morning or painted in several days, I got annoyed with myself. I started to trod down that trail of self-flagellation and spoke to myself in a berating and admonishing tone. Thankfully, I didn’t go too far down that road. Instead of beating myself up, I decided to simply begin again.
Simply begin again. I have those words printed at the front of my bullet journal as a reminder and as a theme for the year. I mean, what a great concept that is! I first heard it on the Ten Percent Happier app and have come to embrace this phrase. When you think about it, everything we do is constantly stopping and starting: sleeping, eating, exercising, going to work… I think the one exception is breathing. In a way, our lives consist of an ongoing cycle of endings and beginnings, or pauses and continuations. Perhaps perceiving a break in your practice in this light would allow you to approach these occurrences with gentleness.
I understand the feeling of failure when you set a goal to do something regularly and then deviate from it, but that is a part of the path, of the journey. Avoid or limit the amount of time in the pitfall that is rumination. That’s where the critical and unconducive chatter of the mind occurs. Rather than wade in thoughts of what should have been done or what could have been done, focus on what can be done now. Be compassionate with yourself. We all falter at some point. It’s okay.
Also, bear in mind that you don’t have to go big. If you have the time to set aside for a lengthy session, do so, especially if you find yourself entering the zone and grooving. However, there is value in short painting spurts and small paintings. That’s why I favor a passport-sized traveler’s notebook to sketch in. It’s a space to play with ideas and to experiment without the pressure of producing an end product. All of my ideas flesh themselves out on those pages before finding their way onto a larger canvas. (By the way, tiny paintings are a thing, so you could still be producing fabulous pieces of art during journaling time. Hmm!)
Remind yourself of the benefits. As I mentioned earlier, meditation positively shapes the course of my day, including painting, so that’s great motivation to get back to it. I’m guessing that you paint—or write or whatever—because you derive something good from it; it adds value to your life. Remember that. Consider how you feel without it, and let that serve as a guide to direct you on your path. You are choosing to paint. It is an act of volition.
One more point I would like to add is to relish in the joy of painting. It is a gift to create. So, yes, savor it. You’ve already noted how it benefits you, and if you feel called to share your creations with others, chances are that someone—even just one person—will benefit as well.
So, that is a glimpse into the steps I mentally walk through to resume my practices of meditation and watercolor painting. Take what you like, and know that your practice is always there for you.
Passing time caring for critters.
Creating while they nap.
