what have i done!?

What have I done!?

Have I just attempted to take myself seriously? Too seriously? At a time when I don’t ‘deserve’ to?

I’ve attempted to put myself out there.

For a minute there, I was in a state of panic because I thought I put myself out there as an ‘artist’. And I felt like a fraud.

I am not an artist? Am I? But my current practice is this:

– watching my son create the most splendid installations around our home. Installations that make me awe struck.

– contact improvisation jams with my son while making sure he doesn’t rip my hair out from my scalp.

– an addiction to creating inside and outside play spaces that provoke and inspire him and his friends.

– carrying, lifting, nose rubbing, back rubbing, cuddling, rocking, being silly.

– an obsession with tiny worlds through terrarium making and ogling.

– singing lullabies and duet improv jazz numbers…off key by the way…but on key enough to help him sleep or smile.

– noticing the simplest of moments and feeling so lucky to have seen it.

– reading.

– so much walking.

– spontaneous adventures.

– occasional lounge room dance offs.

Am I a fraud?

On one hand I think artists who don’t live life surely can’t frame it. And believe me I am living life right now.

On the other, I have been told by many, “If you are not doing the work” you are not an artist.

How dare I create a Facebook page under` the category of ‘artist’. Am I demeaning all of those hard working artists who are “doing the work”!? daily, I really hope not.

No. I’ve been an artist since I was born. It’s how I see the world. It’s how I think. There were times in my life when I had a daily practice, and then there were times I couldn’t. Or just didn’t (more on that in a later post).

This is the longest period though, so I do feel like a fraud.

I promise you, and myself, though that the tears behind the eyes. The pain behind the heart. The unframed joy. The adrenaline from running from a big bad wolf, the fear. The love for my child. The awe of his innate artistry. The stories that have piled up. Untold. Will be. In the way I have always know best to tell them, since i was 5 years old. My little rain dance.

I think I am warming up. I am sorting the beans. I am taking a very slow breath in.

I am seeking.

Searching.

Again.

For a daily practice that realistically fits my life a a mother. And that fuels the telling of story through dance.

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