We are helping our daughter to buy a house. Buying a house, however humble, is an outregeous experience. We have a fabulous buyer agent, who is unphased by the peculiar, annoying process of contract ratification.
This process is not for the faint of heart. My daughter, usually a bubbly, cheerful sort of young lady, has been reduced to a hand-wringing, withdrawn mess. As a mom, I am at a loss. My husband seems to operate on a different time/space continuum, and can usually get through to her. So they went out, and I left with my thoughts.
Angst such as this, I have discovered, is a destroyer of my creativity. Watching my daughter suffer through this mess of paperwork leaves me helpless, and the only images I can conjure up are not things I would want to paint. I can only think of life lessons, and sayings, and consolations.
So my half finished "critter path" sits idly as I try to figure out how to pick up a brush, and begin again. It occurs to me that I can pick up the brush. To create, one must ignore the obstacles - like angst- unless, of course, angst is the emotion you are looking for. I look for peace. And it occurs to me that, especially in these times, we must create our own peace.
So in this alone time, I can begin again, and let her dad worry about the angst. For now, I can make my own peace. At least for a few hours!
I hope whoever reads this, can also make their own peace, in the midst of a confusing and whirling dervish of a world. Like my brush, I hope you can find your door to peace.
Cathy
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