I woke up this morning with a clear message from my dreams. (imagine the voice in my ears)
I am not ready.
Fractured focus has taken me down pathways of neglect. In preparation for leaving my studio for a long vacation I flit from one must do to the next without breath between. The end of the day feels like it used to when I was working 12 hour days. And now I realize that they feel that way because I am working 12 hour days.
Research, practice, confusion and debris play little games with my timepieces. Do I go down the rabbit hole of new ideas or focus on this little tendril not yet tamed? Multi-tasking dilutes wholeness. I swoon next to the whirlpool of too much. Am I in the deep end just treading water?
So, yes, I'm not ready. Not ready to focus with intent. Not ready to leave my nest of toys. Not ready to commit to one direction with my art. Just not ready.
Nevertheless, the plane tickets are bought, housing reserved, itineraries roughed in. I can't tie this sewing machine to my back (though I certainly will have some lap work to do in the carry on bags). Traveling will bring new perspective if I let the list grow short. Or not. It could be a way of adding to the pile.
Breathless and anxious. These are both signals for overload. No turning back now.
I am ready.