Do not mistake – you are an artist.
Maybe you don’t write sonnets or mold clay. It is okay if your medium isn’t paint, charcoal or film.
I have been convinced my entire life that I was destined for that of an artist, full of color, chaos and abundant creation. I wouldn’t need an office, boss or suit. The everyday office grind, with heels, slacks and coffee and traffic would not be my reality.
However, that is exactly my weekday reality and I have been feeling like I failed, like I gave in. It feels too late to do anything great and I have become as boring as a grey paint swatch with my retirement fund, 8 to 5 hours and report deadlines.
But I think we can expand on the definition of the word ‘artist’. I think us humans are given our materials- our passion, ideas and experiences, and the life we make for ourselves out of that is our art.
The choices we make sculpt us.
We put paint to canvas as we create friendships, families and communities, adding everyone’s unique color to the rest. We build each piece of our lives and just because it isn’t a polished product to post on Instagram, we feel inadequate.
The grey color swatch doesn’t seem so plain when you start noticing the different shades of blue, green, gold, black and white in each square. Each shade is a different piece of our soul in our roles as sister, brother, friend, parent, and lover.
So take time every day to remember the power you have. Don’t feel bad if you can’t sketch hands or the sunset. We are constantly at the drawing board and our style is always evolving. We are always reinventing ourselves and I think we forget that.
We also forget that life is not supposed to be set at 25, 30, 40 or 75.
Paint outside the lines you think are fencing you in.