When I paint, I sit at my beloved easel with my palette in my lap. Once, when I was putting finishing touches on a painting – I scooted up real close to work on some detail and something terrible happened.
My knee bumped into my easel and the painting fell face down into my palette of wet paint.
This was nothing short of a catastrophe.
But in that moment of artistic fight or flight – my instinct was to fight.
Frantically, I wiped the blobs of paint away – working quickly with my fingers and the sleeve of my shirt. I allowed myself only a few seconds to stare in horror at the massive smears of color that obliterated what was once my nearly finished painting… and immediately went back to work.
Was I going to abandon something I loved just because things got difficult?
Such is life.