This morning I was walking around our pond.Foggy. Christmas lights still up. The sun trying to break through.

Yesterday my doctor said I could start moving again.After a year of breast cancer.Four surgeries.A body that needed rest more than discipline.

When I was 58, I ran a marathon.I will never do that again.But I am still a runner.

Once you run a marathon, that truth doesn’t disappear just because you pause.

And the same is true with art.

This year my art practice hasn’t looked like it used to.Not consistent.Not scheduled.Not what I wanted.

And I beat myself up for that.I told myself shame filled stories.Catastrophic ones.

Until I stopped.Sat with it.And realized this.

I don’t have to recreate my old practice to begin again.I don’t need perfection.Or discipline.Or a plan.

I can start where I am.

Right now that looks like touching my supplies.Making contact.Letting joy come back before structure.

If life pulled you away.If your body needed your attention.If shame is telling you you lost something.

You didn’t.

You are still an artist.Just like I am still a runner.

You can begin again today.Right where you are.

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