I've been re-reading some old journals and surprising myself at how much they reveal that I chose to ignore. Impractical things, like sketching, that seemed like a distraction. From what I don't know. But looking back, seeing the common threads, I'm seeing what I could not see then.
That these things that seem like a distraction, that keep tugging at our heart strings but don't seem to have a purpose, are, in fact, the whole point.
The onus is on me to commit to following the thread and to know that there is value in practice. There is richness in building a body of work. There is momentum in doing the work every day.
It can only lead to something good and it would never involve regret.
Like exercising. Even if it’s a “bad” workout, I never regret doing it and I always feel better afterwards. Energized. Grateful. More deeply connected to myself. Satisfied.
It's the same with making art, nurturing creativity. Even if it's a "bad" drawing, I enjoy the process. I feel energized. Grateful. Satisfied. More deeply connected to myself for having taken the time to see beyond the periphery, to discover beauty in the mundane and mystery in the world around me.
Art is a practice.
It does not come with regret.
Unless I feel the calling and neglect to act on that inner pull.
What's exciting to me about discovering this old post is now being able to unabashedly give myself permission to do this thing. Until now, I'd been feeling a little guilty about devoting so much time to this hobby. Same with spending six months hiking.
Now I see they're not distractions. They're the whole effing point.