courage = 394 words

Wind Power by Christen Mattix, 2013

I am having serious writer’s block tonight.  I take people’s comments so d*%$ seriously–and today at the end of my knit, someone that I admire told me that I watch too much T.V. (I don’t own one) and that I’m filling the air with meaningless chitchat.  It makes me want to crawl into a tight space, hold my breath and not make a peep for a very long time.  So I am writing this blog just to fight that demon of fear and creative paralysis.  (This is the hazard of making art in public…but hopefully my skin is getting thicker.)  The hour of outdoor knitting at the bench was wild–strong winds blowing my hair every direction.  I finally tied my scarf over my head to keep the hair out of my face.  It was cold, and I had a full, quivering bladder the whole hour…also, in my recent move, I’ve misplaced all my socks.  Mind over matter.  R. came home, having been on vacation at Lake Chelan for 4 days with his wife C.  (This is quite possibly the first time they’ve gone on vacation in a year.)


Difficult Love, by Tom Wood

Two guys strode up…Dirty pants.  The older guy’s name was Rod, the cute young one, Isaac.  They were pouring concrete for a neighbor’s balcony.  Rod was invading my space bubble–touching my scarf, standing too close, chewing his tobacco, while Isaac stood across the street staring out at the turbulent, grey sea.  Rod was flirting with me–his ex’s name was Kristin too, and he has three grown up kids.  He told me he restores Baracuda cars for fun…I was not interested in him–to put it politely–but I was glad for the distraction from the chilly wind.  Then he walked down the road to ask the neighbors if he could pick their King apples.  The highlight of the knit–Jenny drove up in a red truck and introduced me to her brother who said he was “Fish Boy,” aka Randy, an artist who drives buses when he’s not painting.  I used to visit his gallery years ago.  He’s still painting, and is planning an art show with one of my favorite local artists Tom Wood, whose imaginative paintings transport me to a land where bears, humans, and birds ride rowboats together, and mermaids swim in the sky…


Mural for Boulevard Park, by Thomas Wood


4 thoughts on “courage = 394 words

  1. Cheryl's Excellent Adventure says:

    Christen, rethink where you put your admiration. Or, tell this person you admire them and their words made you defensive, and you are hurt by this. Try reverse psychology, people who accuse are people who are in denial about their own life. I’m sorry you had this experience while knitting your umbilical to the sea.

  2. Kim says:

    It’s always hard for me to believe that people can be cruel–but they can, and so often, it’s carelessness on their part. By that I mean lack of care–lack of compassion, lack of thought. And those words can hurt so much. You’re right to go back to your creative work and surround yourself in it. Negative words that hurt need to be healed by creation, by the positive word, by the positive Word (creating). xoxoxox

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