As I found myself at a pause with a couple of big projects, I picked up a book on drawing in hope of entertaining my immediate gratification girl.  “Patience is a virtue,” was the lesson way back sometime, as it remains today.  What do they say; the universe gives us opportunity to learn, upon opportunity to learn, until we hopefully get it.   So, I wait patiently for the scanning to be completed in someone’s busy schedule and I learn to draw.

            “What?” you exclaim. 

            Yes.  Did you know that I hold my pencil wrong? 

            “Although I paint,” I have often joked, “I can’t draw.”  My scribbled little sketches are seen clearly enough by my brain to usually pick the right brush and stroke when I am at the canvas.  This has never ceased to amaze me.

            Yet, now, 2 days and 25 pages in, I hold my pencil differently.  I stand at my easel and draw.  Dots, lines, shapes and shadows, bottles, glasses, pitchers and things.  Each simple sketch fills me with joy.

            Please recall that I studied Communications and Nursing in college.  Then spent the last few decades in health care and administration.  I did not take photography in high school because I couldn’t draw, and art was a prerequisite.  Yep, (my head shaking) “I can’t draw,” has been a message I’ve given myself for most of my life. 

            Isn’t it funny how we can limit ourselves with a single seemingly harmless thought.  I can’t draw, I can’t dance, I can’t sing, I can’t do math, I can’t ride a bike, fit in, go there, talk to her, jump from a plane or climb a mountain…  What are we telling ourselves, our friends, the universe, with such a harmless little statement?  I can’t succeed, I am not worthy, I am settling for less.

            Do you have an I can’t in your vocabulary, conversations or thought stream?  The truth is, you probably can.  Should you truly allow yourself a chance, you will not fail.  We are each capable of great things, no matter how small they may seem in our very full lives.

             I have stood on great red rocks looking down at the planet, and on a point with the ocean to my left and a river to my right, both, when I knew I was afraid of heights.  I didn’t listen to my I can’t.  I gave myself a chance at I can.  I may have counted my steps when the path was steep and narrow but it got me to those breathtaking, joy filled moments.  Now, I stand at my easel, pencil in hand, one step at a time, and I draw.