Returning to a Big Project and Getting a Surprise Reminder of Gratitude
Every morning I try to spend some time sitting on the floor in my studio with my coffee or tea. I breathe in the fragrant steam from my mug mingling with the scent of (the still-blooming!) lemon and lime flowers. I look out the doors into my garden. I notice the sky, our birch tree, the birds. On sunny days (we’ve had so many!) I savor the sun’s warmth on my face.
We’re well into the new year (though in some ways, it still feels as if the year has just begun) and I’m in the middle of lots of exciting projects. If I skip this quiet time on busy days, I start to feel it. Recently overwhelm and anxiety started edging in and I made a point to come back to this practice.
So few things are under our control, but we can protect our emotional and creative well-being.
A few other practices that have been helping me:
Writing in my journal
Returning to daily yoga
Tending my houseplants
Organizing my studio
Unplugging and limiting my time reading the news
Focusing on gratitude
Getting outside
on the deck outside my studio enjoying the sunshine with Fiona
Last month I wrote about big dreams and projects and about how sometimes they take a long time to develop and come into being. We can’t give up on them.
The biggest project I’m working on right now is something I started three years ago, but have been dreaming about almost my entire life: my first book!
If you’ve been around a while, you might remember my mentioning it in a behind-the-scenes business post from the summer of 2021 when I said,
“I’m writing a book. It’s an illustrated year in the garden. I’ve been writing it like a diary, recording, observing. I started in March and hope to finish the writing and art by next March and be able to release the book in late spring or early summer.”
Although I did continue writing and finished the rough draft on schedule, my project stalled.
I looked back at my personal journal from around the time I finished writing, curious about why I didn’t continue. I mentioned thinking about the introduction and conclusion. I laid out the next steps, which were first typing and then editing. But I didn’t do those things.
My journal entries reminded me of how I struggled during the spring and summer of 2022. Anxiety. Depression. I had trouble finding my creative motivation. One challenge after another through the rest of the year and into 2023.
I’m grateful my feelings and energy have finally shifted.
I’m working through my book project one step at a time. I’m both extremely excited and more than a bit nervous. I keep reminding myself that this project, like every other big project, will be completed piece by piece.
my handwritten first draft of my book in two notebooks and a binder with the typed version
As I was re-read my rough draft, I was surprised by this passage:
I’m working outside today, mixing paint and sketching.
I rarely do this, but today is too perfect to stay inside. I’m fantasizing about my future studio. Just a step out to the garden. I had to lug so many supplies outside today. Down from my second-floor studio. I’m not complaining because I love both my studio and my garden and am grateful for both, and for the fact that my job happens in both places. But I still imagine what it would be like for my studio to almost be part of my garden, an indoor space opening into an outdoor space. To easily move from inside to out and vice versa. What a luxury that would be.
When I was writing those words, I had no idea I’d be here now. In just such a studio.
My book might not be finished and out in the world yet, but I’m working on it.
And I’m doing it in my dream studio.
Wow, yes.
I had to sit with that thought for a while.
It’s easy for us to focus on what we haven’t accomplished or what’s lacking in our lives. But what’s most important is to savor the joys and beauties that are here, now.
My new studio brings me so much joy. I was glad for a reminder to delight in it.