Day 3 - RECONNECTION

This morning, annoyingly, I woke feeling a bit pressured. The very thing I'm not wanting to feel just now. That nagging sense of needing to come up with the goods. Of needing to find something fun to do. And to post on Facebook.

So I tried not to be bothered and overthink possible things to do. And in the end, took myself off for a walk in a nearby wood. Which I've only just discovered after meeting a friend there last week for an amble and a catch up. 

My friend, the marvellous Liz Dorton, is an artist who I've know for many years now. And have helped with some of her many art projects over those many years. The one she was showing me last week is an art trail she's designed and developed with the help of family, friends and kids from a couple of local schools. And one which I'd completely forgotten I'd contributed to. 

I saw the painted stump last week, one amongst many others, and thought it was mine. Something about the colours resonated. Today, on closer inspection, I remembered it well. The making of it, where I was, the fact that the green I'd mixed hadn't quite worked and had flecks of white running through it. 

The look of it reminded me of a fingerprint. Something unique, a one-off. And I suddenly felt quite moved. Something to do with recognising the uniqueness of creativity in me and a longing to reconnect with it. 

Truth told, I've not painted in ages. Or made anything. Or sat with anything long enough to lose myself and get into that delicious state of flow. Where time gets absorbed in the wonder of creating. And you emerge afterwards like you've had a holiday in Narnia. Or just blinked.

It's been a while anyway. And I've missed it. Been too caught up in work and comedy box-sets to give it much space. Or attention.

But here I am now. With 47 Fun Things still to go. Each one a wonderful excuse just to play and reconnect with the kid in me again. And enjoy the process. Feeling thankful. To have stumbled across this so early on. And to have it as a reminder in the days to come.