When I was going to school for art, somewhere in the midst of it all I lost my passion.
Getting judged + graded for something you pour your heart and soul into...younger JamieLee could get crushed with one comment.
When I decided to take a different path, I didn’t pick up a paintbrush or a pen for a long time. When I timidly did, I judged every stroke I made—tore it a part with perfectionism.
My passion for art is coming back. Picking up my pen this morning, memories started flooding in. I haven’t cranked up my music, sat down and got lost in my creative bliss for soooo long. Hello, old friend.
The older I get, the more I realize what creating it all about.
It about giving people a peek into your soul, with no fear of judgment. We are all on our own path, we see things our own way and that is okay.
It’s about getting it outside your body, your mind, your heart. It’s the pictures, the words, the sound that wouldn’t exist in this world if you weren’t brave enough to let it out.
It’s about freeing yourself—letting go of your own judgment, you, your harshest critic. And only listening to the opinions that matter.
So what if the lines not straight, the color isn’t quite how you pictured it, the meal has a different flavor, you spelled a word wrong, the song has a different sound...it’s your heart on paper, on a plate, on a canvas, being heard, tasted and seen by others.
It’s okay if others don’t understand it. It’s okay if you don’t understand it yourself. Create, if for the only reason is to create.