The constant rut.
I have been working nonstop, and when you pour something for long enough the contents eventually diminish.
We all get in ruts, plateau, question, and stress. No better time to be nice to yourself.
I've got loads of paintings to do, all October deadlines, so yesterday I didn't paint at all.
Instead I went to the bookstore where this old man at the counter was so excited to be reading Mary Oliver's Dog Poems that he read one aloud to me, and I melted from the inside out. I then bought some inspiration. *sigh* Jon Klassen's illustrations melt me from inside out too.
This morning, I sketch, for no one but me.
Cheers to being human.