Be an Artist

I started taking yoga classes last winter, as I tried to deal with my rising stress levels at work. I had wanted to try it for a while, but never had the nerve in Belgium to attempt to learn the French word for “downward dog” while also learning the pose. (Of course, I suppose there is a good chance that it’s just “downward dog.”)

But there’s a yoga studio about five minutes from my house here, and with the stress thing, I figured it would be worth the money. The fact that it reminds me of my friend Laura in San Francisco is just all the better.

I don’t buy into everything. I still can’t bring myself to do the long, chanting OM that some teachers have you do at the end of class. (And yes, I do totally fake it.)

But I do love the kind of environment it can breed. Like tonight. My teacher started the class by saying what a wonderful job she had. And you could tell she meant it. She is the sort of person who breathes life into the people she meets and the places she goes.

She went on during the class to encourage us all to be more creative, to tap into our inner artists. To be free of the burden of expectation and perfectionism. The last thing she said before we left was something along the lines of: Be an artist.

I find it hard to find the courage to even acknowledge to myself that I am creative. (Be practical!) But over the weekend as I read an article in last month's Vanity Fair about the making of Raging Bull, I found myself craving that kind of creativity in my life.

And I think we all must have an artist in us. Whether it’s the art of loving or creating or baking or writing or organizing or healing. So I’m hoping to make a little more time in my life to nurture the artist in me. To give myself room to fail. As Henry Miller said: We don’t have to turn out a masterpiece every day. To paint is the thing. Not to make masterpieces.