This week I completed something which I had feared beginning since I was a teenager. It all began a little over a month ago while taking one of my daughters to the orthodontist. We were a bit early for the appointment so we stopped into an art gallery.
We oohed and aahed our way around paintings and my heart skipped each time I paused in front of a particularly well done still life. I have a thing for them. I have always harbored dreams of painting one myself but I've never let it go beyond a dream because...well, because what if I was really, really bad at it?! Then I could never pause and dream about creating it again. Instead, I might have to pause in front of a particularly dear still life and remember how bad I was at it.
As we entered the rear of the studio there was one of the artists herself, who just happened to be an old friend. We were delighted to see each other. She exclaimed over how my girls had grown up and I asked the question I always asked with no real intent behind it, "when are you going to teach others how to do what you do?"
To my surprise she said she was teaching and that the next class would start in a week and a half. To my bigger surprise I pulled out a wad of cash and signed up for it. She warned me there was no refund as space was limited. I warned her I was really going to show up.
Two days ago I brought home my first oil painting. While I'm no old master, it was not a bad first attempt! In fact I am going to frame it and give it a place of honor in my home.
All those years wasted for the fear of what may or may not be. Tis a pity. I go next Tuesday to my next class.
I can't wait.
I wonder what else I can do that I've always been afraid to try....