A rowdy thunderstorm nudged me awake at 4:45 this morning. I couldn’t go back to sleep because it was so loud and I was thinking about how nervous my dog must be, things that I’ve said on the internet, my siblings, and how much I wanted that piquant coffee sitting in a brown paper bag in my cupboard. All I really wanted was to go downstairs and draw but it was just too early.
Then I got into a conversation with myself that goes a lot like, “Says who?”
“Says… just the way that I always live my life.”
“Well, that’s dumb.”
So I got up. People get up at 5:00 am all the time. I kept the lights as low as I could. I started the kettle to press my coffee. I ran downstairs and pulled my favorite leggings and baggy t-shirt out of the dryer (these really are my favorites and when they’re both fresh and clean, I’m so happy). I sat down at the dining room table and listened to the rain and I put pen on paper.
I haven’t been drawing for very long and I’m not going to pretend that I’m awesome at it but I love the way it shuts my brain off. I think that’s why I’m so drawn to this activity. There really isn’t anything else that I do that lets me unplug in this way—and it’s been healing.