|Wrestling a demon, one of many.|
My two great adversaries are gravity and consistency. To turn an act into a habit is the product of focus, determination and time. Landing on the same square, as it were, with each daily leap. Letting not rain nor dark of night be a reason to slide, to neglect, to procrastinate or to be half-assed. As to gravity, I tend to drop things a lot or they leap from my grasp, plus the earth seems constantly to pull me closer. I used to be considered tall.
Somewhere, once, I read that it takes 30 days to create a habit. Oh, if only. Maybe if one is under the age of, say, 35. When one is more than twice that number, well, do the math. All I know to do is begin, and continue. I've reached a point, much as I thought it would never come to this, when the day contains too few hours for all my intentions. Certainly if what I intend is to do a thing well. And who wants a sub-par habit? I'm sure I have quite enough of those already.
The vow to self of returning to art as a daily product, not a for-sale sort of product, but a thing brought into existence in whatever form, whatever medium, is a current priority. I have not yet committed to a specific amount of time every day. I'd already be in trouble if I had. As long as it is something that I can call art, I feel successful. I have not betrayed myself. Whew. As I have said many times before, if it were easy, everyone would do it.
So a day becomes parcels, liked packed lunches.
On the other hand, a day full of bento boxes would not be the worst thing. I could reclaim time spent cooking and use it for art or serenity or stretching. Meanwhile, we, as they say, start where we are with what we have and do what we can. One can do no more.