Perfection kills creativity

Have no fear of perfection — you'll never reach it.
~ Salvador Dali

 Perfection kills creativity.

 I have been noticing especially this year 2016 how much perfection is a “bully” how it kill’s joy and creativity in my life, let me explain.
 As a knitter I find some yarn (I go for the yarn first) then find a pattern, I try to pair them up both as best as I can, because I never do anything by the book….then as the sweater progress the angst sets in. I see that this is not perfect. I have knit the body and as the sleeves are coming along it’s either not enough yarn or the yarn I chose doesn’t look as good as I thought it would.

And it becomes another half knit sweater in the half knit grave yard.

Pattern, something I look to for inspiration and also seek perfection- if I only use this lovely pattern it will be perfect. But it doesn’t. It’s no fun when this disappointment strikes again. As a kid I never used patterns and I wore every gosh darn sweater I knit- because I wasn’t seeking perfection I was creating, enjoying that process. And that was the journey not the end goal- perfect.

I tried out baking for some time this fall I even enrolled in a fancy French pastry school online. The pictures looked perfect, I checked my ingredients once, twice three times to make sure the measurements where correct too. It truly is a miracle I have any hair left on my head after pulling out locks at a time. The cookies, cakes, puff pastry N.E.V.E.R came out as expected, they were either taste less, undercooked or could be used at building material (hard as a brick). When I was a kid baking was fun, mom and I would bake “boller” or something easy and even if it wasn’t the prettiest sweet rolls in town- it was still pretty sweet because again I wasn’t looking for perfection-  I enjoyed the warm soft cardamom flavored buns with hot cocoa....and whip cream.

 

I am also finding this now as I have started to paint. I am petrified of screwing up- making the ugliest marks on my canvas- even starting a canvas I feel as if I need a good shot of whiskey or two.

What is with this???
 It’s a white cloth stretched over a wood frame and I am too scared to touch it with paint in fear of not being good enough- so I either verbally beat myself up or I walk away with my heading low 
-from something that is supposed to be fun and enlightening not to mention creative!

 " Thank you perfection for draining all that is good in my life – creativity."

 So I gave up!
- I can’t win.

Perfection is simply unattainable.
IT'S SO FREEING!

  As I am knitting a red & pink sweater-  you know, these colors “don’t go together” there is really no pattern to this sweater so I am just having fun, though a mindless easy knit- it is giving me pleasure to sit and knit listening to music or talking with my kids instead of counting stiches and tensing up for the probability of a crappy end result.

Baking – even though I have a few good recipes I found a fabby lemon pound cake ( box cake)  Krusteaz, takes 5 min. and we all have something wonderfully lemony and yummy to enjoy with our tea.
I don’t really care anymore- I make the cakes that I know and bake well or the simple cookies-
Not here to impress any one and man, it’s such a relief.
My kids compliment me on the baked goods and that’s all that matter anyway- weather it’s from scratch or a box.

Now the painting- well that’s tough- I see it and myself as a work in progress…baby steps. Lots color exploration and marks what will become of it, I don’t know – challenge is good.

I try to ease up and let myself go…slow and steady wins the race.

 

I will get off my soap box now, thank you for reading.

May you all enjoy a most beautiful creative day as you see it.
 

You see, when weaving a blanket, an Indian woman leaves a flaw in the weaving of that blanket to let the soul out.

~Martha Graham

 

 

 

Natures art

~ open your heart to natures art ~

Mountain Living

Keep close to Nature's heart...

and break clear away, once in awhile,

and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods.

Wash your spirit clean.

- John Muir 

Nothing like the mountains and nature to wash your spirits clean...I think Muir was on to something there. We've had such a great winter in the northwest, much down hill skiing and x-country skiing,  unfortunately for me I hurt my right leg down hill skiing- after much investigating online I figured I did not have a torn meniscus but tendonitis- which is a relief- but equally stinks because I am so much pain hobbling along.
Feeling a little sorry for myself I nourish myself with hot chocolate and whip cream also granola- epic amounts of granola, both store bought and home made. Homemade is best but when in a pinch I'm not complaining eating the premade stuff, as long as I get my oats- my horses are rubbing off on me.
Birgitta, my aunt taught me how to make hot cocoa- the secret is to mix the cocoa and sugar first in the pot and then add a small amounts of cream to make it all blend in to a liquidy paste...then add the milk, other wise you get the cocoa clumps. I think of my mom when I drink cocoa, growing up in Sweden during the 2nd world war- where everything was rationed or non existent, they would make it with water and no sugar (pretty bitter tasting)- if there was any cocoa available.
Growing up in Oslo as a kid, after hours of sledding- looking like a wet felted wool blanket ( fleece & Gore-Tex was not yet invented)with my wool mittens, hat, sweater that had been soaked and then frozen stiff by playing in the snow. Once inside, I quickly peeled off  my wet wool clothes and sat in my long johns by the fire, frozen fingers wrapped around the cocoa mug, the warm steam and sweet smell of chocolate would be inhaled, then devoured, accompanied usually with a delicious open faced salami sandwich - which always hit the spot.
Fond memories. My mom made the best cocoa, and so.... the memories of her and my family in Norway I guess somehow is connected to that, in a cup of cocoa.


Here in wintery Montana, darkness is the name of the game, getting up in the morning at 5:30am to feed my horses, still is under a starlight sky. " Zero dark thirty" as chef calls it. Wearing my heavy muck boots and whatever parka or the like, I can find in the wee hours I trudge in the snow, it is bone cold. The girls greet me in the darkness with a whinny, they are cold and hungry after a blustery night- I grab a bale from the barn, I can't find my knife to cut the twine that holds the bale together. Using a leftover piece of  twine to rub against the twine that holds the square bale - the friction between the two will brake the twine, the hay comes out in flakes and easy to feed. Fiona and Bella get good amounts of hay in the winter- it's what keeps them warm.


Living in the mountains a great sense of gratitude for nature and quietude that is here, but also a sense of isolation. As an introvert living in a small mountain town suits me - I never felt at home in the city, but I still miss all the cultural and historical offerings Oslo provides. My daughter left for Portland, Oregon with a group this morning- she will be gone for 4 days visiting and exploring the costal city. I am a bit jealous since there is no travel in my near future. Always been very interested in Portland, it seems like such a vibrant and energetic, artist town...city. With limited amounts of artistic endeavors in my neck of the woods I yearn to stretch out my arms and ask for more- more creativity and inspiration and as I wrote here I have been quite lost as I no longer dyeing yarn. So....I have signed up for an E-course with Flora Bowley who lives in Portland. The beauty is I have access to her and her teachings online, I am eager to get started. Her colors, creativity and talent has inspired me to jump into something head first -painting.
Pretty incredible to be able to do big city things from my little small town in the mountains, using my puter. I can still have one foot in the city and one foot in the woods -I'll always be in the woods...heh!


Mountain living can have the best of both worlds....even in the darkness of winter a new bright light that shines inside me...


In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary. 
~Aaron Rose