Do You Ever Get Tired
of acting like nothing happened?
I did something disappointing. Of course this isn’t the first time, and God knows it won’t be the last. I broke something. I broke it good too. Nine pieces. It broke into an inspired gasp and nine pieces at the most inconvenient time. I tried to save it. My mind spun through every possible solution multiple times, edited upon each revisitation just to be defeated, forced into acceptance of the waste [of time]. It would never be the same because of me and my impatience.
Two days before my first ever group exhibition, the nerves of newness conspired against me. They took the opportunity to teach me the lesson I’ve been desperately needing: patience—to make room for grace and whole thought, thoroughness and the presence needed to provide the all due care and respect.
This brokenness came about through the experience of waiting—longing for change, then rushing its arrival. There, in that void of transformation, hid a shattered perspective: if I broke something I can’t ever fix, would it hurt more to try or not?
As I scrambled unable to see an outcome satisfying enough for the moment, a new reality set in: my most recent addition to my first body of work, A Mother Is A House, was incomplete, again and indefinitely.
xxAbby
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