The Light Bulb Finally Goes On

I never thought of my family as being very strong on traditions. We had the standard family traditions, the same ones you find in every American home. Food was about as far as traditions got in our family. There just hasn't been any traditions passed down from generation to generation. I had always thought our family's lack of traditions kept me from having a common thread linking the generations. Now a mother myself, I understand I had to mature, and really settle into who I was, before I could see the thread has always been there. The common thread I found is so much stronger and deeper than any family tradition passed down through the ages, because this thread is as much a part of me as the color of my eyes and hair. It will forever entwine my grandmother, my mother, and myself. I can't believe I never saw it, especially since it was so obvious. It is one of the most integral parts of who I am, one of the parts I love the most about myself, and yet more often than not, I deny that part of myself, rarely acknowledge it. It is the artist in me.

I have never really called myself an artist because I was afraid to. In my mind, you were not just allowed to call yourself an artist. No, that title was not a self given description, it was an honor bestowed upon the greatest of talents and could only be awarded to you. I don't know what I expected, someone to show up at my door one day with the secret ring that says I could now call myself an artist and now I could begin to create. I also felt that since I wasn't "talented enough" that I may as well not do it. What was the sense? This seems to be another commonality between the generations. I remember complimenting my grandmother and mother on how talented they were, but they would always brush off compliments regarding their talent. Both women so very creative and talented. For some reason, they never really allowed themselves to embrace that side of themselves. Perhaps life got in the way, raising children, jobs, and house cleaning. Neither of them allowing themselves to create, just for the pure joy of creating. My mother is an unbelievable painter, yet still doesn't paint. She doesn't think she is any good at it. Really, she is. Once in a while, I hear her say she is going to start again, but the paint brushes are still collecting dust down in the basement. They both tinker in crafts, Grandma even having a craft business for a short time, but never fully and truly letting it all hang out and just create.

Here I am, the next generation of this family. I know I have been given an incredible gift and it is my turn, my turn to embrace the artist. It is time to stop worrying if it is "good enough" or not. I need to love the process and not worry about producing a freakin' Rembrant. It's time to just do it; time to stop overthinking and create just to love the experience of it. Learning to love the journey, I believe is just as important as the end results.