The process

Sometimes things do not live up to expectations, that is just part of life.  Then... then sometimes things are even better than you could have hoped.

Our vacation in France was wonderful.  Provence was beautiful, Nantes was whimsical, and Paris was magical.  The only bad thing was that it had to end.

On this trip, more so than previous times in Europe, I was struck by the difference in attitude and appreciation of food, art, and beauty.  Listening to a farmer talk passionately about his olive trees and honeybees, listening to a guide on our food tour talk about all that the artisans go through to perfect their food craft, seeing the pace of life, and experiencing the natural beauty all inspired me and left me feeling so full.  I was ready to leave everything behind and go to school to become a master at aging cheese.

I keep thinking about how I feel different.  I feel as though I have shifted.  I know that the loss of a parent profoundly affects  a person, I feel that.  But I am surprised at how I feel.  I also know that is is not an isolated single loss of mom that is causing this period of personal evolution; it includes all of the complicated side issues and ongoing issues, it includes my responses and reactions, and it includes the new work I am doing in therapy.

I sat at the pool at our B&B in Provence doing a watercolor sketch.  It wasn't looking like I had envisioned.  This is one of the things that keeps me from painting, my perfectionism and inability to always recreate the vision I have on canvas or paper... In that moment, I didn't care, I was simply enjoying the act of painting, of spreading the purple pigment on the paper and seeing the effect that adding water droplets had or using a tissue to soak up the excess moisture.  I enjoyed the process instead of focusing on the final product.

I've noticed myself enjoying the process of doing at work rather than focusing on the end goal, and that is nice.

I want to hold onto this.

I am thinking about going to over to the museum this weekend to visit some of my favorite paintings, to sketch, and just breathe.  Maybe Saturday...



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