A friend told me about an unusual concept last year. She read it in a book, and I don't have the name. So if anyone recognizes this, please let me know. I think I've blogged about it before, too....
It's the notion that sometimes our prayers cannot be answered because we have not made room in our lives (or hearts) for them to BE answered. They can't get through because we have created barriers.
Once those barriers are lifted or cleared away, our prayers can be answered.
I like the idea of it. Is it literally true? Doesn't matter. Something I'm learning about myself is that I can understand a good metaphor whether or not I believe in the literalness of it.
I have so many thoughts in my head, and some good ideas on how to proceed. But I've been not able to act on them the last day or two.
As I drifted off to sleep last night, it came to me:
I haven't made room for them yet.
This morning our family took an hour--okay, TWO hours--and did a down-and-dirty intensive clear-out of our home. We moved at a fever pitch, simply tossing stuff we have no more use for, giving stuff away to friends, and clearning the decks.
I have to give the kids a break or they'll run away from home. (HAH!! Actually, I know they never will because they refuse to eat leftovers, so how would they survive??)
But tomorrow, the same brutal approach takes place in my studio.
I've taken some tiny, almost symbolic steps in the last 24 hours. I've resigned from a board for an organization that is dear to my heart--but it's time to take that diversion and focus on MY business. I've unsubscribed from several dozen newsletters and e-mail lists, all groups and interests I had several years ago but not part of my core vision now. I don't even want to spend time looking past them or deleting them--they're gone. The weather is getting warmer and all pets are moving back out to the mudroom.
Next will come many of the projects I got involved in, the experiments with ways to make my work smaller. That will come again--I WILL need a body of "more accessible" pieces eventually. But not now. My jewelry and sculpture will have to serve that function.
And there will be room for a few bread-and-butter lines and pieces. It's always good to have a few "transitional" things going on even while major changes are underfoot.
But soon my website will come under the proverbial knife, reflecting the changes in focus and vision I've held for the last few months. My catalog pages are being purged--I've already made an appointment with my photographer/graphic designer to set up new ones, focusing on strong pieces and new lines and permanently retiring ones that have served their purpose but must go.
I won't de-clutter TOO much. A "visually dense" studio is part of my creative process I've learned to accept, no matter how overwhelming it can seem to others. And I will always have disparate interests and fun side trips. This isn't a rigid career choice, after all, it's a life in art.
But the barriers are coming down.
I'm putting on one of my favorite "Prodigy" CDs, real head-banging music for the transitional period. The musical intro starts:
"The horns of Jericho...."
