Enough is a beginning…
By now, I imagined writing this from my new home. Walls dried, routines re-set, everything in its place. However, August had other plans.
The rains came, relentless, revealing…damp patches on freshly painted walls and slow leaks that might’ve gone unnoticed. Our move paused itself.
At first, I was frustrated, but the delay began to feel like grace. I saw what I would’ve missed otherwise.
We didn’t move in, but I did shift into the newly renovated studio. Slightly bigger. Warmer in light and energy. My bags are still half-open. Each day feels like a gentle excavation, searching for tools and rhythm both.
The first weekend of August marked the beginning, the studio’s first workshop. It wasn’t all in place, but it was enough. And sometimes, enough is all you need to begin.
In the weeks before, I managed to wrap up a few commissions (sharing my favourite one from the month), in some quiet and focused pockets of making before the studio filled with new voices.
And somewhere in between, I’ll set up a home too. Eventually.
Let’s Learn: The False Start File
I have a folder on my laptop full of things I never finished.
Unsent drafts. Abandoned ideas. Outline of things I never built. Half-done artworks. Things I wish to create, and the list goes on.
Earlier, I’d see that folder as a graveyard and feel extremely anxious.
Now, I treat it like a seed bank (is that what’s called maturity 😝 just kidding)!
Ideas have their own timing, I have realised. Sometimes you’re not ready to finish something, probably not because you suck at it, but because you’re probably still becoming the person who can finish it.
Maybe you have a folder like that, too. If not, it might just be the time to make one.
A Thought to Reflect On
I came across a short clip recently, and it immediately made me smile
A little girl was watching her grandmother sitting high on a chair, quietly embroidering.
From down below, all she could see was a tangled mess of colourful threads twisted, knotted, going everywhere.
She asks, “Daadi, what are you even making? It looks so messy… nothing makes sense.”
The grandmother gently lifts her up onto her lap and shows her the beautiful bouquet of flowers that she had been making.
She then points and says:
“This is how God works, too, little one. From where you are, it all looks tangled and confusing, and nothing makes sense or seems to go anywhere. But up there, a beautiful bouquet is being stitched, just for you.”
A simple story. But one that lingers.
Especially in moments where nothing feels aligned, and you seem to be surrounded by dark clouds (pun intended) 😉
