I have taken few significant risks in my life

I have been following “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. Well, the poor-man’s version because I’m too proud to shell out a few bucks for a used copy on Amazon. I have found this website to guide me, which chronicles one woman’s experiences and thoughts (whose name I cannot find, sorry!) as she works through the book. I follow her articles, fend for myself with the daily and weekly writing exercises, sometimes skipping, um, tailoring critical elements, and plan to “delve in later.”

Wow. Risky business.

The website author talks about jumping into an endeavor she had always dreamed of and the struggles she faced. Yadda yadda. Me too…I’ve been there...

"As I set things in place to make this dream a reality, I experienced an increase in intestinal problems. In addition, emotionally, something wasn't feeling right. It all came to a head the day after I staffed a booth at an art convention. I spent 2 days telling thousands of people about the new studio, when it would open, what it would offer, etc. The day after, I collapsed. I was sicker than a dog. It wasn't the flu. My gut was wrenching, but I had no fever, no cough, no vomiting...no real symptoms.”

I must confess something. I, too, have been having intestinal and emotional problems. Not surprising considering the past months, but I was struck by how my experiences seem to echo her.

And wouldn't you know it. This week's focus is about "money, God, and creative abundance."

Yippee! I’m particularly well versed in pooh-poohing all three. If you were a fly on the wall of our home you could hear me quipping to Mike, “The only people who can make it in the arts have large trust funds, or parents who are financially secure enough that they could catch their fall, or benefactors who support them...” And so on. (Note: I like to ignore hard work, risk, and talent for purposes in this equation.)

This convenient blanket of assurance is on me at all times. Wrapped snugly, I swear to myself that in an alternate universe, with my lawyer on speed dial, cutting checks to pay my Big City living expenses, that I too would be the proud owner of “Emerging Artist” awards and critics reviews of my operatic debuts going something like this: “the shimmering timbre of Ms. Grubor’s pure voice, coupled with the artistic bravado of her performance lifted my soul from out of my very being, and into the palms of her milk-white hands.”

Uh.

Luckily, I have the convenience of never knowing if my thesis is true because I don’t have said trust fund. But never mind that. Victorious! I have won, with sharp wit and wisdom the battle in my mind over why I’m not really pursuing singing professional anymore. Did I ever? It’s just not practical, teaching and singing on the side is soooo much better. Singing on the side? On the side? “I’d like an order of a life, with just a little singing on the side.”

This a metaphorical meal I’ve grown tired of.