This is such a vibrant, truth-soaked celebration, Clint—thank you for putting language to both the joy and the jaggedness of creative living. I smiled at your party metaphor (BYOB and DIY? So real), and then felt that familiar tug in the chest when the Shouldas, Couldas, and Wouldas crashed the scene. Been there. Might still be hosting t…
This is such a vibrant, truth-soaked celebration, Clint—thank you for putting language to both the joy and the jaggedness of creative living. I smiled at your party metaphor (BYOB and DIY? So real), and then felt that familiar tug in the chest when the Shouldas, Couldas, and Wouldas crashed the scene. Been there. Might still be hosting them.
I especially loved this: “Creativity isn’t just about making masterpieces. It’s about making space.” Yes. Sometimes that space is tiny—a breath between doubts. Sometimes it’s an entire afternoon that wasn’t claimed by productivity or perfection. For me, it’s often the quiet refusal to abandon something just because I don’t yet know what it wants to become.
So here’s to the fragments, the unfinished, the deeply personal—and to the courage it takes to keep going, even slowly. Even messily. Even now.
Thanks for the invitation. I’m accepting it—with ink-stained hands and an open heart.
This is such a vibrant, truth-soaked celebration, Clint—thank you for putting language to both the joy and the jaggedness of creative living. I smiled at your party metaphor (BYOB and DIY? So real), and then felt that familiar tug in the chest when the Shouldas, Couldas, and Wouldas crashed the scene. Been there. Might still be hosting them.
I especially loved this: “Creativity isn’t just about making masterpieces. It’s about making space.” Yes. Sometimes that space is tiny—a breath between doubts. Sometimes it’s an entire afternoon that wasn’t claimed by productivity or perfection. For me, it’s often the quiet refusal to abandon something just because I don’t yet know what it wants to become.
So here’s to the fragments, the unfinished, the deeply personal—and to the courage it takes to keep going, even slowly. Even messily. Even now.
Thanks for the invitation. I’m accepting it—with ink-stained hands and an open heart.
What a heartfelt, lovely comment, Jay. Appreciate you and look forward to seeing more of your work. Cheers!
Clint, thank you so much. I cherish you.