You are galloping along, and you have this vision in your mind, and it all seems wonderful, perfect. This is exciting.
You can see it, you know? What a brilliant idea, you think to yourself. You pick up your pencil and make some marks upon the page.
You’re full of gusto. You are going to Freaking. Do. This.
You smile at everyone to benevolently share in your enthusiasm. Sharing is caring. You’re good like that.
The first line seems quite wonky, like your hand is not communicating to your head at all. Weird.
You rub it out and try again, but the second line really isn’t that much different. You feel your first spark of uncomfortability, a shimmer of annoyance.
You rally. You’re an adult after all and it would seem childish at this point to have a tantrum. You keep your feelings to yourself but are going from bad to worse.
The tantrum persists and it’s crawling on your insides.
Nothing is looking like you want it to.
And then it happens: you start to feel al little silly. Like you can’t believe you ever thought this would be fun. Like what an absolute load of walloping bollocks that you ever suspected you could even be that good.
Hmmph.
You’ve reached the quit point.
Of all the things I’ve witnessed getting in the way, frustration is one of the biggest adult dream killers. We have somehow delusionally convinced ourselves- especially when it comes to art- that we should have instant success is translating what we see inside our head down onto the page.
And when that doesn’t happen, we see it as evidence that we should quit, as though any inkling of frustration is communicating to us a lack of creative potential and possibility.
In fact, the opposite is true.
Frustration from a brain and body perspective is an in-road, not an exit ramp.
When we feel frustrated, our brain is madly working on new pathways. You are in the abyss between two mountains, and your body is the bridge; hands hanging on one side, legs hooked across the other.
The neural pathways between your eyes and your hand are in the process of updating; roads are being built, stuck points are being streamlined.
Your pre-frontal cortex is communicating to your visual cortex to your motor cortex to create a neural symphony.
The orchestra of your insides is a cacophony of noise, working to manifest and co-create your vision, if only it’s allowed the time to do so.
This is all frustration is: A temporary holding pattern while things are smoothed and worked out.
A period of white noise before the notes again start to make sense.
A process of advancement and reconfiguration.
And the only thing you have to do is keep on moving.
xx Jane
A sketchbook drawing of Korimako || Bellbird at my bird feeder