The random musings of Kate Grace
Rebekah Joy Plett and I are in a blog convo now because I love the perspective she’s shared on this hot topic of distraction, procrastination and all-around avoidance we as artists suffer. Granted, everyone suffers or gives in to this, but what an amazing thing to wonder – why is it we so easily give in to, and sometimes welcome, distractions from the things that make us great?
She specifies she’s not referring to laundry or lawn mowing or dog poop pick uppering, but rather these creative things some part of us is compelled to do lest we go completely nutters. The beast inside that will either make us the greatest versions of ourselves or eat us alive if they can get a clear enough shot.
And is there any other cure to this artistic epidemic other than simply shutting up and doing rather than avoiding?
When I was young my mom took me to swim classes at the Burton Hollow swim club. I learned to swim but stayed the hell away from that slide. It wasn’t even one of the big ones. Just a small, normal backyard kind of slide with some water squirting down from the top so your bum didn’t chaff on the way down. I was terrified.
The swim instructor and my mom stood on either side of the slide urging me to just let go and go down into the pool (a good three and a half feet away). I wouldn’t. I was frozen. Finally the instructor looked me in the eye (probably wanting to get this over with so he could head out to Taco Bell or 7-Eleven with all the other teenage instructors) and said, “On 3 you are going to go!”
He started counting immediately, not giving me any time to either compute what he just said or come up with an excuse why he was just a dumb teenager and I wasn’t going to listen to him. On “3” I went…
…and it was AH-FRIGGIN-MAZING!
Through the years I’ve revisited this memory at times when I just needed to shut up, let go and allow life to take me where it’s going to.
How funny that we cower from the experiences and practices that will make us great. They’ll change us, of course. Greatly.