For a moment I feel enlightened. I can feel the possibilities, they stretch beyond tomorrow. The possibilities are endless, but if only I can dedicate enough time to the journey.
What stops me –these unrelenting series of roadblocks, and maybe you can relate– is the inner voice saying “It isn’t pretty enough,” In all its helium pumped confidence, “it can use a touch up here, maybe remove that there, and while you’re at it… Ya know what? Just re-do the entire thing.”
I began by painting a boat, I’m left with a tree coated in Autumn leaves, surrounded by yellow snow. Yeah, it’s pretty (to someone), but I wanted to paint a boat, not a tree.
Or perhaps you prefer it the other way around. You begin with a tree, healthy leaves, and ripe fruit. But end up with an aged canoe, filled with buckets of bait, and twice the size of Texas.
So, What’s Taking So Long?
I read somewhere that perfectionism rarely begets perfection. And if it ever does, you’ll have ripped out all of your youthful hair out by the end. (Assuming you have a head of hair.)
You’ll be trading too much of your time just to get that last bit of dirt underneath your nail.
I’ve tried the outlines, the plotting, the deep breathing practices, and I’ve cleaned my room. Then, I scattered a pile of socks and button up long sleeves across the wooden floor, just to do it all over again.
I’ve tried to be organized, but none of it matters if at some point I can’t say, “Ok, that’s enough, the shirts are buttoned and hanged, the socks are folded, and the boat floats nicely on the blue canvas waves.”
So, here’s me saying it’s done, that’s it, I’m hitting publish and moving on to the next draft. Farewell. Remember to eat your veggies, never skip leg day, and above all, remember to put down the paintbrush.
…Once again, farewell.
