January 5th, and it feels like the year is half over already.
How the hell is it possible that I am already feeling this?
I am already behind on several projects, and despite the fact that we are five days into the new year, I’ve been up late several nights editing and polishing some podcasts to present to the audience.
Saturday morning. And I am tired.
I am already frustrated at my New Year’s diet and exercise plan. “I don’t think this is frickin’ working,” I am repeating to myself.
I ran a short 5K yesterday. And I am tired. I want to sleep, but the dogs got me up.
Saturday morning, and I am tired. What I’d love to do is settle down into a chair and dive into a few books, but I have emails to tend to. Work stuff. Business development stuff. People are counting on me. My clients. My business partners.
I feel sluggish, and don’t really feel well (I thought I was supposed to FEEL BETTER on this diet)….
But then I read this, and remember.
Two thoughts come to mind:
1. I am not alone.
2. This is what I am supposed to feel.
I am human after all, and I am an artist. My art may not be what you define as art.
But I am an artist. I write. For you and my myself.
I do what I can to turn our spoken words into art, through my podcasting work.
I do this to tell stories. To network with people important to me and my business. I do this to educate and serve a market.
But it is work.
You are an artist too. In the work you are doing.
Sales. Creative. Leadership. Content. Support. Operations. Teaching. Whatever.
Your work is art.
And artists struggle. We are tired.
You owe it to yourself to read The Icarus Deception
It is Saturday morning, and I am tired. But we are artists. And there’s a cost to that.
But upon reflection, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Would you?
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