“Do one thing everyday that scares you.” Eleanor Roosevelt
Challenge your boundaries, allow them to stretch your status quo, courageously step out of bounds at times even if not within your comfort zone and expand your creative horizons. Protecting what we have always been, doing what we have always done will bring us the results we have already received.
Perhaps our past experiences, fears and expectations of others and ourselves have darkened the outlines of our potential, holding us back. Sadly, we may hide behind walls containing our gifts neglecting the work that defines our unique contribution to this world.
Follow the lead of a child where lines don’t seem to exist, only possibilities. Flawless work is not the ultimate goal and individual expression comes naturally as they move freely and fluidly through their creative process.
Through years of setting up borders and boundaries for ourselves, we unknowingly create an outline of our envisioned lives hardened with continuous and tedious strokes keeping us functioning safely within the lines. Over time, after producing generic pictures colored within the lines of our own making with repetitive skill, it’s no wonder that creative inspiration often fades away.
Don’t let your self-imposed limitations close you in. Allow your creative imagination the expanse of an entire coloring page of life, rendering your authentic self in your artistic expression, as you relearn to color outside the lines.
“Idealism is a seed of naïveté once planted in a youthful heart that grew into a tree of hopefulness.” – Erika K Rothwell
It’s Monday again. Yes I am moving forward with hope. Yet, my mind stays persistently intertwined with the past. Stuck in an observation mode, I cling to new ideas as if a collection of fine jewelry meant to be coveted rather than worn.
The day seems too simple to be adorned in bright shiny new ideas. So, reflection pulls me deeper into acceptance of my inability to complete any one of my projects in progress and I find an odd sense of comfort in stagnation.
I turn my attention to the view outside my window where the bird couple has landed on the tree branch. I am reminded, once again, of the fleeting moments that pass by my eyes of observation, pleading to be captured in words. However, with the best plan in place, the hours still burn up in the heat of day, and I am left with ashes of intent.
I reread my words of the past, rediscovered today, in a note written to myself months ago. “Idealism is a seed of naïveté once planted in a youthful heart that grew into a tree of hopefulness.” My daydream is insistent and alive, albeit buried beneath the surface of deeply packed minutia.
A state of reflection along with my strange preoccupation with fantastical imagery, draws me into a centrifuge of swirling thoughts, finding myself unable to categorize or prioritize.
And as the birds fly away, I am left only with the “tree of hopefulness” and a reminder to persevere…