FEAR RELEASE.

One simple word…

FEAR.

Fear of failure.

Fear of judgement.

Fear of imperfection and impurities,

Fear of confinement.

It’s become embarrassingly apparent that I’ve allowed fear to hold me back from the ability to release my creative mind. Years upon years of attempting to refine, perfect, over analyse and collect data to ‘allow’ myself the ability to release it into the physical realm. Yet it makes zero sense, as each year I grow older and wiser and my knowledge, ideas and ideology adapts, progresses and develops, leading me into a higher frequency. This means I’ll forever look back at my old workings and think they’re shabby, yet if I wait until I’ve grown ‘enough’, I’ll be waiting until I’m dead!

Does that make sense?

I’m waiting for a moment that doesn’t exist.

A version of myself that is forever in the future. My current knowledge, expansion and ability to articulate my creative mind into a physical presence. All I can do is my best now,

as the version of myself ‘wise enough’ to release is a constant becoming.

As I comprehend this realisation, I begin to pick up the pieces I’d left in the closet. The old journals, half started illustrations, ideas thrown into the drafts pile within my laptop. It’s a chest of fucking gold! An entire library of my mind that’s been waiting for this moment, the moment I’m finally brave enough to finalise these articulations and bring them to life.

How goddamn invigorating!

In moments like these, I realise that I truly am the epitome of an artist. Yesterday I heard a quote that said,

“She’s a writer. This means her life is a constant quest to fuel her curiosity and test her theories”.

It was one of the most relatable quotes I’d read in a damn long time. My brain is more often than not running a million miles an hour, taking it all in, comprehending, articulating, testing, pushing boundaries, building boundaries… It feels like I’m constantly needing to put my hand into the fire so I have the knowledge to describe precisely how it feels to the world. I have no desire to get it wrong, yet my mistakes, trials and challenges are often the pearls within the shells. I willingly choose to put my own hand into that fire, so I have the gold within the story. Makes sense why they call me the wild one…

All it can ever be is my own interpretation of a feeling, idea or theory.

As I start to unfold these truths, I begin to notice subtleties in my ability to allow the flow to pour out of me, fire to burn more furiously and the unleashing of my greatest creative desires to unravel. I’m opening the chest of gold to the world and for the first time in my life,

I’m not afraid.