I sat down with my younger self today- she ordered a mocha and I had an oat milk flat white. She'd arrived 15 minutes early, had half an hour to do her hair and makeup, and had the rest of the afternoon free.
I arrived with paint covered hands, an overtired baby on my hips and worn, tired but joyful, oh so joyful- eyes.
She was worried about the future, what she might do, who she might be. The weight of the world pushing her towards a sensible decision. Becoming an artist was certainly not it. There was no means of certain income, she would never make it, in a world full of talent- how on earth would she shine?
Oh how I laughed and laughed and laughed. Isn't it tunny how the world can beat us down and we believe such silly lies.
I told her the truth. We'd try a few different things, we'd learn and grow, fail and try again. We'd meet beautiful souls and create beautiful ones too.
We would eventually gravitate to the one thing that has always been a part of us- creativity. Because it's so integral to who we are, there's nothing that helps us to feel more truly ourselves like creating. Because of this-we would thrive.
I told her that our dream comes true, that we have a precious family, the luxury of time well spent, we garden (and we geek about it), we throw and we paint.
We are successful as an artist, in a world filled with creatives- we've been blessed with people that choose us. And they choose us again and again.
She'd finished her coffee, mine had gone cold. So much hope and anticipation filled her eyes, she could hardly dream of what was to come. All I could do was smile and reassure her, it was coming and it would be wonderful.