It’s hard to put yourself out there.
Relationships, job searches, art-making, entertaining – all require going out on a limb, some farther than others.
Sometimes it would be nice if we could get reassurances beforehand.
It’s hard to put yourself out there.
Relationships, job searches, art-making, entertaining – all require going out on a limb, some farther than others.
Sometimes it would be nice if we could get reassurances beforehand.
There are so many videos of child prodigies out there: kids who can play an instrument incredibly well, or sing like angels. Inevitably, these youngsters are called “gifted” and left at that. While they certainly are gifted, it is not necessarily with some magical talent to play an instrument immediately after exiting the womb. My argument is that they are gifted with several things:
Which brings me to the title of this piece. It’s the old joke:
Tourist: How do you get to Carnegie Hall?
New Yorker: Practice, Man. Practice.
Think about how many times we ask ourselves this question:
How long should I wait:
How have you asked this question lately?
I wish this was the world’s biggest problem.
Stay strong, originally uploaded by klynslis.
This one is for Mom. I love you!
When was the last time you experienced a random act of kindness?
My spare time today was spent working on my Sketchbook Project sketchbook with the theme, “Mysterious Mapping”. The basis for the project is a labyrinth. I’ve yet to fully realize the end-product.
For me the labyrinth is a symbol for pilgrimage and a tool for moving meditation. Several summers ago I created the Trotabout Labyrinth: a seven-circuit, seventy-foot labyrinth that is large enough for two people to walk side-by-side or for a horse and rider. It is dedicated to working in tandem. The Troutabout Labyrinth was part of a much larger project that involved riding my horse, Myst, across the state of Michigan. I serendipitously made the decision to come home the day before tornados went through the forest that I would have been riding through the next day. Safe at home while the storms raged outside, I wrote an essay about this trek. The text from this essay will be the crumb trail through the sketchbook labyrinth.