The Flow, The Zone, The Place to be

The Flow, the zone, the place to be.

I worked on a couple of paintings this morning.  I knew what I wanted to do, and I did it.  And I feel good about my progress.  I am going on a photo shoot tomorrow.  I hadn’t used a real camera for months, so I decided I better change up the batteries and make sure there was space on the film card.  Got it done.  Time and effort just flowed, and it was easy.

But now, I want to sit down and write something.  I write better in the morning, and it’s now 2 in the afternoon.  But there are pesky things I need to get done before the heat sets in for the day, like planting a new shrub in the backyard.  My writing location is under a nice overhead fan, and it feels good even if it’s 115 degrees outside.  There is this novel, which I am trying to get unstuck from.  And why did I decide to write a memoir?  Even if too many people tell me I should, should I?  But then a lot of people told me years ago I should get a dog.  I finally did, and she brings me great joy.  She is sleeping peacefully by my side right now. But the writing is not flowing.  I guess this essay is, in a way, but I am using it just to complain.  Looking back on my life, I hope people find my experience making art worthwhile.  But if what people want to know is all the bullshit I have been through with my collection of incurable diseases, my stress, my shyness, my useless PhD, and how I have made it through.  But have I made it, though?  Really?

Okay, I did publish several technical papers from my PhD research, but did anyone read them?  Did my results affect breading alfalfa germplasm for the southern plains?  Who knows.  I never heard anything.

I have always loved photography.  Yes, I have sold a few prints (two or three) and more paintings than Van Gough!  He only sold two, and I’ve sold three.  I don’t guess I have made a big dent in the art world.

But then I am a shy person, and I would hate it if I got to be famous and many people wanted to meet me and get a piece of me.  Is that success?  I don’t know.  But I do wish I could have a positive effect on our fucked up world and could help people realize that we are on a path to extinction.  What will get us first?  Honey bees dying off, trump’s economic disaster, global heating, credit cards, or 5G radiation?  I guess I’ll wait and see.

So can I work on my novel now?