Feed Me, Seymour!

Remember when we were little, and learning to ride a bike? We would pedal furiously, begging our mom or dad not to let go until we were ready. And then, we would fly! We were terrified of falling, but we pedaled anyway, and we flew. Fast forward *mumble-mumble* years, and what happened? We are so afraid of falling, we never take the bike out of the garage! I spent this past weekend at the Art League of Long Island’s Holiday Art Fair. I made lots of money, got approached by a woman who felt my work was ready for wholesale, and won an award of excellence. I pedaled. I flew. Fast forward a day or two. The money has all gone to pay overdue bills, I have yet to follow up on anything that came out of this weekend, and in the past 24 hours, I’ve eaten 2 doughnuts, a couple of slices of panettone, a giant linzer tart, 2 cupcakes, and 2 boxes of skinny cow ice cream bars.  There are 3 things in my closet that fit me, and I can’t zip up my winter coat. Ok, I could feign surprise and shock, but even you all recognize the pattern here. In fact, I’m pretty sure a couple of you are nodding off. Ok. Ok. What’s going on? Success? Eat. Stress? Eat. Happy? Eat. Sad? Eat. This might be a little harder than I thought. Eating is a distraction? True. From what? Does it silence the raging monkey chatter in my head? Certainly. But it also silences all of the others clamoring to be heard. The  ones that cheer me on. The soothing whispers, the non-judgemental voices that encourage me to work hard, nurture my passions, not to give up, or beat myself up. To have faith. What would happen if I just stopped sacrificing myself to feed the beast? Maybe it’s time to find out. What will happen if I send the monkeys packing? If I work hard, nurture my passions? Pedal furiously? I might fall, I probably will fall. But eventually? I will fly.

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Fall or Fly

carynjune

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