The Big Leap

I have a confession to make - I am not really as brave as I have made myself sound.  For the past month, I have pretended that the leap from a well established career in early childhood to a yet-to-be-developed business in interior decorating was a well thought out decision.  My contract with my previous employer ended yesterday, and today I am terrified.

I have always wanted to work in the creative arts in some way – I have just never believed that I had any talent.  My grandmother is a painter, my dad a builder, my aunt a doll artist, my mom a seamstress.  I have always been awed by each of them and their ability to create a “something” from raw materials -  a formal dress shaped from a bolt of lifeless fabric, a house rising out of a cavernous hole in the earth, frothy waves appearing  from a palette of lifeless colors, or the tray of random arms, legs, and heads that suddenly becomes a dainty fairy.

Over the years, I have become increasingly frustrated with my inability to create.  I am hopeless with a sewing machine, can barely tell a skill saw from an allen wrench, and hate the smell of turpentine.  I will never be a painter, a builder, a seamstress…..or, for that matter, a potter, sculptor, crafter, or photographer.

I have always used my space as an outlet for stress. My family jokes that they know when it has been a bad day because they come home to a new house – the furniture rearranged, a room repurposed, the closets and drawers cleaned out.  During really rough times, we remodel kitchens, build additions, and add gardens. Putting my space in order is a way for me to control what feels uncontrollable.

In July, I had dinner with a very wise mentor.  Her art is in shaping the spirits of people.  In the unexplainable synchronicity of the universe, she is currently building a house.  Through our conversation over sushi, she was able to mirror back to me my previously elusive art. 

I can “feel” spaces the way my grandmother sees a landscape on canvas, the way my aunt knows how all of those random clay body parts will form a doll, and the way my dad can put together a pile of 2 x 6s into a kitchen.  When I am in a space, I can see it’s unique potential – the way that the placement of furniture, the right wall color, and perfect accessories can bring out it’s best self – and the best in those who live and work there.  I have always known I could do this; the revelation was that not everyone can.

Like all artists, I have come to a place in my life where I must create.  It is simply no longer possible for me not to.  That same mentor shared this with me:   “You have a gift that you accepted before you were born.  Saying no to that gift is saying no to the universe itself.  You can either make the choice to use it on your terms, or wait until the universe makes the decision for you – but it is inevitable.” 

So, I have decided to do this on my terms as much as possible. For now, I am going to try and keep a foot in both worlds to potentially avoid the starving artist stage. In the immediate future, I need the emotional security blanket of the known as I try out the new.  We will see how that goes – there may come a time when the risk of not giving over myself wholeheartedly becomes more of a risk than the financial worries.

Thanks to all of you for supporting me on this journey.  I can’t wait to hear about the risks that you have taken – or wish you had the courage to take.  Please share!