s t i l l

As an artist, there is always that frustration when I don’t see what I imagined in my head translate in the artworks I am creating. There are times when I will have so many ideas on what to draw yet I end up staring at a blank canvas—unproductive.

There was even a time when I felt paralyzed, unable to produce anything that I think is “good enough.” Doubts, fear of failure, insecurities started crippling my motivation to create. I felt helpless. So I just stopped. I stopped thinking. I stopped drawing. I stopped everything, and just decided to stay away from what I loved doing. I let my mind and heart rest. It came to a point where forcing it became more painful than letting go.

So that’s what I did. I let go.

I admitted to myself that I cannot do it anymore. I can’t. I can’t work with thoughts of inadequacy, the pressure of perfection. They just drew me deeper in a hole self-pity. I hit rock bottom. But you know what…that time of weakness lead me to a point of surrender.

I surrendered it all to Someone whose ways are higher than my ways.

In that moment of surrender, slowly and gently, I felt the burden being lifted. Self-pity, anxiety, and all the heaviness was replaced by peace. Real peace. The peace that begins when you start trusting a Greater Artist than you are. Really trusting. Not the making-yourself-look-calm-but-deep-inside-you’re-worried kind of trust. Real trust. The kind of trust the results to peace that transcends all understanding.

But how do we get to that point of real trust? How can we believe for greater things when what’s happening in us and around us seem to keep getting worse? How?

We take charge. Take charge of our hearts. We take control of our emotions.

Do not let what’s around you affect what’s already in you.

So instead of having doubts, worries, and fears flow freely through my thoughts. I filled my mind with inspiration. I read articles on creativity and productivity. I watched TED talks and listened to sermon podcasts. I also opened my Bible, and prayed. I stayed still, and prayed.

still.jpg

/stil/

adjective

  1. not moving or making a sound.

noun

  1. deep silence and calm; stillness.
  2. an ordinary static photograph as opposed to a motion picture, especially a single shot from a movie.

adverb

  1. up to and including the present or the time mentioned; even now (or then) as formerly.
  2. nevertheless; all the same.

verb

  1. make or become still; quieten.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

(Psalm 23, ESV)

 

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