". . . Learn to be more compassionate company [to yourself], as if you were somebody you are fond of and wish to encourage."
~ Anne Lamott
Recently my husband encouraged me to relate to my work as a friend. He wants me to be a true friend to it - rather than just trying to get it done or sold, worrying about how to make it right, or striving to do more of it. Though I love my work, I sometimes forget it reflects a relationship that deserves appreciation.
Starting around eight I regularly wrote, drew, and made things. I didn't think much about it; I wasn't blowing minds with stories like, "Sally Hamburger and Harry French Fries" or my sweet, awkward, and (sometimes) hard-to-know-what-it-is pictures.
As I got older and wrote more in my journal, writing became important because I could say everything and feel as though there was someone there willing to hear me out. When I wrote, I took the time to listen to myself. I was being a good friend. The journal came to represent me hearing me, an intention of kindness towards myself.
After all these years of writing and drawing, I find this sense of listening remains one of the most moving and reassuring aspects of doing my work. There is always something there - interested. Even when my thoughts run to self- criticism, failure, and doubt, there in the background remains a friend - enthusiastic to hear and see more, always asking that I continue.
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From the Inside