A gorgeous goddess creating at one of my Day of Delight Retreats

This is post one of my Creative Goddess Fears series – shining a little light on the fears that keep us away from being our Creative Goddess selves. Today, we’ll be exploring the crevices and caves of that crazy little fear: But I’m not an artist. I can’t even draw!
Everytime I hear someone say this, I want to bundle them up in a big hug and mop up my tears with their sleeve. And with all my heart, I want to say:

Yes, you are an artist – you are an artist because you were BORN. When our spirit was created, we were made to create, explore & share too. It’s got nothing to do with drawing, or making something look how it looks in real life. Art is a way of coming home, or sharing our story and dreams in colour, in having moments when we know we can create beautiful things in our lives.  If you believe being an artist is any different, you’ve been told that by someone who is confused. An artist doesn’t look this way or that. An artist looks like *us*

Sometimes fears and beliefs can be really deeply set, and don’t respond much to words like this. It’s that part of the mind that says “This is GOOD! We should listen to this! We should forget all our fears!” And then the fear part of us quietly says “That’s all fine and good… but I still feel this way, and I don’t think it can change.”

In which case, it’s story time. Because stories can change our world.

Pull up a story time cushion…

I was at a party once. A hen’s party. In the corner was a little desk set up with a scrapbook and paints and pens, ready for all the hens to write a message and blessing for Chief Hen’s wedding. It was such a gorgeous idea, and I made a beeline there.

Sometime later, another woman arrived at the party. She was as shiny and cute and wide eyed as Bambi, and I marvelled at how impeccable she looked – perfect shiny shoes, unrumpled, smart clothes and shiny hair tied back in the piece de resistance – a perfect bow. She was very very neat, and very very pretty, and very very put together.

A hen ushered her to the create-a-blessing table, and she stood there, wide-eyed. “I’m not sure if I can do this! I don’t know how to!” she said to the hen. The hen, an earthy, warm and loving friend of mine, replied “You’ll be fine! Just get in there! There’s no right or wrong.” I smiled at her words, and wafted off to eat some more orange and poppyseed cake, and sup on the Brazilian punch we had made.

A couple of hours later, I spied the most gorgeous artwork on the table. An ethereal bride with dark, wild hair. Deep red lips. A mask across her eyes. It was utterly rivetting, and filled with energy. “Who made THIS?!” I exclaimed! Miss Bow swivelled around. “Oh no, please don’t look at that! I’m not an artist, I’m not like you! I made a mistake on it!”

“I LOoooooooovvvVVVVE IT!” I squealed. Miss Bow’s eyes got impossibly wide, and filled up with tears. “But I’m Not An Artist” she said again, quieter this time. “Nonsense!” I shrieked in my over-zealous state. “You’re AMAZING! You should keep doing this!”
“Do you think so? Do you really really think so?… But I can’t. When I was 14, I LOVED making art. It was my favourite thing in the whole wide world! But my Dad said I couldn’t anymore, that I had to get serious, and only study science and math at school. But I wanted to do art sooooo much. And I can’t anymore!”
“How old are you?” I asked. (I tend to ask blunt questions)
“So you haven’t painted for 20 years, because of your Dad?”
“Has it been 20 years? I miss it so much! I really, really do. But I don’t think I can paint anymore. I can’t even draw a stick figure!”
“Painting isn’t about the stick figures. Why don’t you just buy some paints or pastels or ink and see what happens? Give yourself the freedom to do, be, try something new?”
Miss Bow’s face was beautiful. It was a mixture of tears and a little bit of sadness at the years she’d lost her creative self. And in it too, there was a little bit of hope, a little bit of possibility, and a whole lot of shining. Shining at the way art made her feel.

Sticking it to the Stick Figure tyranny

That was a few years ago.
And that was the reason I started running Creative Goddess Circles. Miss Bow was my Muse and my Inspiration. I realised if Miss Bow felt that way – like she’d lost something – her creativity – and wanted to retrieve it and claim it as her own again –  then there must be other beautiful souls in the world who felt the same way. Other beautiful souls who’d gotten so afraid of the Stick Figure Tyranny they forget that splashing down paint, cutting out paper, rubbing their fingers in pastels made them feel GOOD.

Tomorrow, we’ll shine our soul’s torchlight at another Creative Goddess Fear. But for today… be gentle with you, amazing soul. You are doing so, so very good.

Love & paintdrops,

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