Charcoal Dust and Pencil Shavings

Dozens of papers, layers of ink, pools of paint, clouds of charcoal dust, mounds of pencil shavings and eight months later, the first part of my art school journey is over. 

Going to a class of mostly young folx happily chatting and laughing was a great reminder to live in joy and friendship. My bleary, tired eyes soaked up their sparkles, rainbows, powerful marks, and seemingly limitless creativity. Kindred spirits, exploring creative new beginnings in midlife helped keep a sense of belonging and place. 

I am used to working in ways that take me directly and swiftly from A to B. Learning that this is not the only route and that I could go to wherever my story, imagination or inspiration took me felt impossible at times. Sometimes I wondered if my classmates could hear my brain crack. 

It was a monumental effort to carve our time for this venture between work, caregiving and the mental dexterity it takes me to remain present and not fall into a typical pattern of just plowing through content to reach a stated end goal.  

Thanks to the wonderful people who encouraged me and cleared the pathway to make this possible. 

Many more semesters and years to come. This was a great start.