The risk of creativity

I have always admired people who can paint. Or draw. Or sketch.  I don't believe at this moment that I am one of those.

I decided in about 2nd grade that art was not my thing.  I settled over time for my stick-figure drawings.  My creative outlet took the form of words, thoughts and ideas and it has served me well.

So, imagine my surprise when, after signing up for the Brene Brown/Oprah extravaganza to begin next week, I realized I needed to purchase approximately $70 worth of art supplies.  Ugh!  Even shopping online for the items I know nothing about makes me feel inadequate to the task.

Vulnerability means risk.  Suddenly this feels like work.  It will be my mission to find joy in the process of making a mess.  Guess I'll find out if art really does imitate life or vice versa.

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