Look at how kids finger-paint. This is the secret, I’ve found, to doing anything… Kids just spill the paint all over the place, play around, smear it all over the place, and never give a thought to whether or not they are making a mess, making mistakes, or anything else. They do it for the simple joy of doing it! I think the key is not to grade yourself. If you make a mistake, hit a sour note, or whatever… So what? It’s not the end of the world. Try and try again…

I was at a piano recital, years ago, and there was a 10-year old boy on stage. He started playing and botched it badly. He threw his head back and just laughed and laughed. It was infectious… Pretty soon, everyone in the audience was crackin’ up. Then he went on to just NAIL the performance. The simple, beautiful joy and laughing at his own mistakes… That’s something that’s really stuck with me.

It’s not such serious business… In this hyper-critical age, we find ourselves becoming rigid. We pick one thing and pour ourselves into it, and if we paint, maybe we secretly would love to be able to play the guitar. If we play the guitar, maybe we would secretly love to sculpt or throw pottery or try our hand at sketching, weaving, playing the piano, or woodworking.

Get some books, gather the materials, and just DO IT! Allow yourself to make mistakes, and know that with patience, humor, and tenacity, anyone can do anything! There are no limits but those we place on ourselves!

Oh, but we don’t have time, we’re too old, we’ll never be any good, people will laugh, blah blah blah… A thousand excuses we come up with to cover our fear. It’s never too late! As long as you can move your body and draw breath into your lungs, it’s never ever too late to begin. It doesn’t matter where you end up, whether you become a professional musician, an artist with accolades and fan mail pouring in… It is you, and it is expressing you and your own unique voice in the most masterful way you possibly can, at your current level of skill, and within yourself, you have to KNOW that it’s enough, has always been enough, and will always be enough, no matter what anyone else ever thinks or says.

When I was young
I despised Me

Me was this body I disconnected from at every opportunity.
Me was a little girl, pixie haircut, bangs cut too high.
Me was the girl they called “Slut” because of a rumor.

That wasn’t true.

Old me never thought she was pretty.
Old me hated math, science and brussel sprouts.
New me likes science now.

It doesn’t have to be true.

Young me had big sparkling eyes. When I look at her now, in photos, she is so pretty.
Young me didn’t have breasts the size of watermelons. Rode horses bareback and bra-less. So free.
Young me swore every one was luckier, smarter, sexier and loved.

That was never the truth.

Old me was so perfect
but only God knew it back then.

New me knows better now.