Precious has a habit of getting in my way. It even appeared in this summer’s retreat studio, as we examined why we feel terror when standing before a perfectly new blank canvas. I’ve realized I need to be more aware of it, and of the quiet and mighty ways it steers my actions.
I’m feeling precious in all sorts of corners these days—in that painting that was such a big hit, I’ve found myself recreating it over and over; in my relationship with my daughter who is out there in the big world, finding her own way; and in letting the retreat recipe book settle into the hands of the publisher. It shows up in all kinds of sneaky ways, quietly convincing me to hold back, protect, preserve.
But I’m realizing that the more precious I hold something, whether it’s a painting, an idea, or a part of my life, the more I risk locking it up so tightly it can’t move. Creatively speaking, precious is the enemy of flow and evolution. It’s that moment when the canvas feels too fine to touch. So you pause. You protect. You stop, often for a very long while.
Life is not so different. We can love something, or someone, so fiercely that we stop allowing it to grow or change. In our guarding, we forget that the really good stuff isn’t found in protection, but in growth, movement, evolution, truth. And when we hold an idea or belief too tightly, we become rigid, stuck, unable to see beyond ourselves. And we stop learning. Even losing our compassion.
I mean, fear plays the ultimate role here, and fear is whoa—powerful. It’s been used forever to keep folks in line, to make us hesitant, obedient and small. The more afraid we are, the easier we are to control. So maybe loosening our grip is a small, personal rebellion—a refusal to let fear dictate how freely we move, speak, love, or create—in the studio and in life.
When you hold something too precious it becomes a relic instead of a living thing. I think about all the canvases, the ideas, even certain times of my life I’ve tried to protect in this way, and how still they became. Not alive. Not evolving. And then, in a single unguarded moment, how they leapt forward the moment I loosened my hold.
Love,
Laura xo
