Promises Promises

It's a hollow Thursday. I've been watching the clock since 0545 and grateful for any minute that passes and pushes me forward to 1515. I have at least 6 quilting projects started and can't commit to finish them. I am beginning to read a book by Steven Pressfield entitled "The War of Art - Break through the Blocks and Win your inner Creative Battles." Pressman writes, "Creative work is a gift to the world and every being in it. Don't cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you've got." The statement is both wise and inspiring and intimidating. I have a vast array of fabrics, supplies and sewing machines and yet I find myself overthinking every choice. I tangle myself up in the variables and scold myself for not giving a deep and intellectual meaning to every stitch. It reminds me of a story Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes to paraphrase she told us that several of her cleints spent all their time acquiring the perfect supplies, the ones that "feel right" and then leave the task less. That bell has never stopped ringing on that for me. I have always searched for the perfect pen to write the perfect play, the extraordinary paper that would draw my ideas out of my hand. I have Italian embroidery scissors, English hand needles and more fat quarters of fabric than I care to count. Committing to yardage seems like taking the training wheels off the bike. :) I found my first quilt top a few days ago. It is about 49" by 60" and grey and black. I named it my PMS quilt. I had planned to sew a deep read border. I can laugh now and say it was my dark period. I do really like it now. The pattern of opposites is bold and from a distance it holds its own. It's very modern even if I so say so myself. Like the Almond farmers of California say “One can a week is all we ask” May be if I commit myself to 30 minutes a day, it will fuel to desire to live, love and create out loud.