A year of living dangerously

Danger means many different things to different people. For some it is the adrenaline rush you get from leaping out of a plane. Others get a rush from chemicals or alcohol or even new relationship. For others it is their career. My dangerous looks a little different.

Relection

I have a whole box full of patterns I want to try, cookbooks I would love to experiment with, a bag of polymer clay with a head full of ideas of what I would love to create, two easels and a drawer full of art materials. My dangerous is picking up the paintbrush, opening a new Word document, adding the first stitch to needle or material, buying the ingredients for a new recipe. The blank canvas, in whichever form it comes terrifies me, yet I have this desperate desire to create. It fills me to the point where I cannot not create.

Perfectionism and creativity are not happy bed companions. The very nature of creativity is wrought with failure. I am so scared of this. Ruining a canvas, writing a post no-one will read terrifies me to the point of immobility. So this year I have promised myself I WILL create, regardless of the outcome. I have given myself permission to fail because I realise that without this permission I will stagnate and die a little more inside each day.

Letting go

My God did not create me for this. He is the first creator and has made me in His image, which means that my creativity is given as a gift from my Father, to enjoy and to give pleasure to others.

So here is to a year (... and a future) of leaping off cliffs and living dangerously.