Life is not a straight line. It's a downpour of gifts, please – hold out your hand

Thank you for being here. I'm so glad you're here.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Shoveling Shit

Little Lily (my four-year-old) doing her "tongue thing."  A good image to go along with how I'm feeling today.

"Sometimes you have to go on when you don't feel like it, and sometimes you're doing good work when it feels like all you're managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position."-      Stephen King

I can so relate to this quote right now

I'm not feeling bad, really.  Just trying accept the reality that I've been "shoveling shit from a sitting position" all morning. 

I've been working on a painting for my dad--a great big one, measuring 24" by 30." I'm used to painting wee little paintings, sweet little ones.  But this one is big, really big, and slightly intimidating.  My dad requested that I do a custom painting for him, way back in June, was it?  It's been a while.  And he requested that it be big. 

Once I finally got around to getting the big canvas and managed to begin (which wasn't until sometime in September), I was way into it.  There was something very fun about taking an over-sized brush and slapping on a bunch of felt kind of like dancing, the way my body had to move all over the place to get the paint from one end of the canvas to the other.  It was fun.  And it's been fun, though for some reason, I found myself painting a little on it one day and then abandoning it for days before getting back to it again. 

Yesterday, my mom asked if I was "almost done with Dad's painting."  I told her I was.  Until this morning I thought I was almost done---just wanted to add a few "finishing touches,"  a little more color in the sky, a few more waves in the ocean, a little more texture to the sand.

After spending more time than was necessary on the internet, sipping the last of my coffee, clearing the clutter off my work area, lighting a candle, filling up my water and putting a disk in the computer, I began.

And all was fine until, it wasn't.  I could feel  myself getting a little aggressive and careless.  Too much paint.  Too much color in all the wrong places.  But I kept going.   When, finally, after too long,  I stood back to take a look, the first thing out of my mouth was, oh shit.  And really, it was that bad.  Typically when I'm not feeling satisfied with a painting, I can play with it, tweak it a bit here and there, and come up with something I'm happy with.  But this time I think I went a little too far. 

So, hmmmm.   Looks like I might need to find a big dumpster.  And let go of the fact that lots and lots of paint will go in the dumpster with the big canvas.  Must remember, it's all part of the process...

Sorry Dad, I hope you don't mind waiting a bit longer.


  1. No problem and no hurry, sweetheart. Love, Dad

  2. It will be so worth the wait! Thanks for sharing!

  3. oh no...I hope you just stashed it under a bed...and see it differently when you take it out. Maybe it's just the (imagined) pressure of needing to get it done?

    Don't know if it applies, but I thought of this article while reading your post.


What are you thinking/feeling? I'd really love to know...

♥ Julia