Acting as Channels.

 Butano State Park

Butano State Park

Standing at his appointed place, at the trunk of the tree, he does nothing other than gather and pass on what comes to him from the depths. He neither serves nor rules- he transmits. His position is humble. And the beauty at the crown is not his own. He is merely a channel.
— Paul Klee

Today is Day 28 in #the100dayproject. For those of you who are just joining in now, I'm pairing pieces of my journal entries from the past few years with watercolors that I'm creating daily. Around Day 19, I began to feel overwhelmed with my project and felt like I needed to constantly raise the bar on myself and my art. So much that I began to feel paralyzed in creating. So last week, I made the intention to simplify, to loosen up, to give myself some freedom in my watercolors. I did more abstract pieces, paintings that felt more like 'play.' I used my fingers to smear the watercolors, I blended paints together and watched how they bled into each other when I added more water. I took more creative risks because I released myself from any rules I had created for myself before. Without rules, there's freedom. 

 Day 20: "Why do certain people come into our lives with such a seamless ebb and flow? Why do I so easily allow them back into my life? Should I develop a thicker membrane?" (Oct. '16)

Day 20: "Why do certain people come into our lives with such a seamless ebb and flow? Why do I so easily allow them back into my life? Should I develop a thicker membrane?" (Oct. '16)


 Day 24: "It was October. The earth heaved heavy sighs. Bridges collapsed. Power lines fell. We took the side streets all the way home. You were there waiting for us, but I pushed past you, sprinting up the stairs screaming, "Are my fish ok?!?" Years later, my world would shake and things would fall and break. And after the quake I would run Home. Only this time, I wouldn't pass you. I would run to you." ("1989", a poem written for my father. Dec '15)

Day 24: "It was October. The earth heaved heavy sighs. Bridges collapsed. Power lines fell. We took the side streets all the way home. You were there waiting for us, but I pushed past you, sprinting up the stairs screaming, "Are my fish ok?!?" Years later, my world would shake and things would fall and break. And after the quake I would run Home. Only this time, I wouldn't pass you. I would run to you." ("1989", a poem written for my father. Dec '15)


 Day 25: "It feels scary. Terrifying, actually. But that means I'm finally entering into a place of myself that's real, that's raw, that's human." (Nov. '15)

Day 25: "It feels scary. Terrifying, actually. But that means I'm finally entering into a place of myself that's real, that's raw, that's human." (Nov. '15)


 Day 26: "There's no reason to feel stuck. New ideas are like sunrise. They're always there, everyday. I just have to wake up, know which direction to look, and notice them." (Feb. '17)

Day 26: "There's no reason to feel stuck. New ideas are like sunrise. They're always there, everyday. I just have to wake up, know which direction to look, and notice them." (Feb. '17)


This week by embracing the abstract, I began to see how I was merely a channel. A circuit for a larger force that was flowing through me. What are some ways you can loosen up and let go of judgement, and allow yourself to be a conduit of something Greater this week?