I love that quote. I heard Julia Cameron say it once, but I’m fairly sure she didn’t coin it. Trouble is, I can’t seem to keep the words in my head mid-process. Specifically, one of my many I’ll-become-a-domestic-goddess-if-it-kills-me endeavors is two oak straight-backed chairs that I’m determined to paint and reupholster. I’ve had them four years (procrastinate much?), and today I hauled them out of the garage armed with four sheets of wood-grade sandpaper. I planted myself beneath my poplar, which my son promptly scrambled up, and started sanding. A half-hour later, up to my armpits in dust and amid paranoid thoughts of lead-based paint, the aforementioned quote floated through my mind, to which I answered…
But somehow, between eyefuls of dust, I persevered. I felt the sand-smoothed wood beneath my fingers. I listened to my son chatter from upon high about how when he turns six he’ll be able to climb to the TOP. I savored the emerging evidence that I might possibly have a shot at being good at this artsy stuff. Possibly. And you know what? The more I anchored myself to the present, the easier it became to actually enjoy it.
Which is a good thing; for now my product is two chairs that vaguely resemble skinned animals.