To lose myself in the work. That is the ultimate goal. It's selfish. It's just for me. It's a high. It's meditation. I'm lost in the rhythm of the loud music in my studio and the dance back and forth from my painting. Pearl Jam usually does it for me, music from my youth. At least that's what it was today. I haven't reached this place in a while, where I'm just lost, in the flow, somewhat undistracted. I realize I've been listening to too many podcasts. Too much chatter. Back to the music. Thank god for that. I move quickly in a dance with the music and the painting. Up close putting paint down, back away, make choices, dance back to the work, put more paint down. Scream along to the music. I look over at the youtube video of Pearl Jam performing live in 1992 and swoon over young Eddie Vedder and feel a little sad, but grateful. I look at the clock and resist the urge to document my second mug of tea on instagram. The dance, back and forth, back and forth. The flow is so fragile and so seemingly impossible to obtain. When it is caught, it's like magic, like you are holding the secrets of the universe, something ancient and impossible to comprehend, and at any second it will disappear. I look at the clock and think about how much time I have left in the studio and that I need to clean the kitchen and do laundry.

I don't (yet) have the privilege of being in my studio every day, so it's challenging for me to create a flow when I feel like I'm constantly being interrupted. Every time I get back in the studio, it takes time for me to get back into a piece. It feels IMPOSSIBLE at first. I think to myself, this piece is never going to work...I'm done...I don't know why I'm doing this. But I know that's just chatter. Pointless. It has no meaning. The magic will only come if I pick up the brush. Embrace my solitude. Turn the music up and lose myself in the work.