Creating

I've always loved the feeling of making something. The something has evolved over the years - composing a poem, choreographing a dance team routine, refinishing an antique wooden chair, or even crafting a blog post for Brightspot. Doing all of those things, as varied as they are, has always inspired satisfaction, joy, and well, really almost a soft thrill that is hard to describe.

When Simon and I shifted from the lake back to Portsmouth we did a huge apartment clean-out. I came across an ancient sketchbook/journal from high school. Inside were some really cool charcoal drawings - a couple self-portraits, a sketch of Pete, some pointe shoes, a few other little renderings. I was intrigued, so I added a sketchbook and drawing set to my Christmas list.

A couple weeks ago, I pulled the sketchbook out of my desk drawer, removed the top of the pencil set and...stared at the blank page. This happened no less than five times. Finally, last week, I repeated this process, but actually landed on something to draw and gave it a whirl.

It felt amazing. That old familiar sense of crafting, creating, making was back. I loved it. I'm trying to avoid deciding whether the products of either of my sketching sessions are "good" or "bad." That's another topic, but I do find it interesting that so much of my life has been dedicated to the arts, which don't have the "right or wrong" and "black or white" I have always craved.

Alas, whatever it is, I don't care. I just love the process and the feeling I get through it. It feels good. It's good to feel good these days.