Grace and grit
All my life I thought of creativity as principally grace. Descending, and then gone. Brief visitations, ephemeral dew.
Only recently has my part come more to the fore. The work over days, months, years. The stepping toward something felt and half seen.
The willingness to be with imperfection, to fail repeatedly, to feel alone in the wilderness, and to risk being shamed.
It has felt like tuning into to a particular frequency; of gradually recognising my ‘signal’ or signature more readily; and of coming to trust and deepen with that vibration.
I am a slow learner, I still love and wait on Grace. But I am on my feet, doing the daily work, and moving in the unknown towards Her.