this pencil cost me 75 cents at an art museum in austin. i've been thinking about it quite a bit. i liked the message immediately (there were lots of different "art is" pencils), but the more i stare at it the more profound it seems.
as i was scribbling in my journal on the plane, the pencil flipped out of my hand and into a very awkward place between the seat and the wall of the cabin. after a couple of unsuccessful lunges, i realized i would probably not get it back without getting down on my hands and knees, preferably after the people beside me left their seats. eventually i wrangled it back.
so--what is my art, what is my struggle?
life is my medium. life is difficult. living well requires focus, mindfulness, and a vision of what i want to create. no wasted brushstrokes. simplicity, passion, vivid colors. inspired, free, but with care underlying each choice. love in every act.
the consciousness, focus, living-each-moment is my struggle. tiny brushstrokes--no sweeping acts or proclamations. just painting a little more beauty every day.