Recently, I was ordering my usual oat milk mocha at my favorite coffee shop when the young man at the counter, a barista, casually asked, “Whatcha doing today?”
I shrugged my shoulders and answered, “Not much, just a little work.”
“Oh, cool,” he said. “What do you do?”
“I’m an artist,” I said sort of robotically.
And this is when it got interesting.
His eyes widened with awe. “REALLY?! Wow!” he said with authentic amazement. It was as if I was the first to ever reply with this answer.
He then went on to ask me more questions. “What kind of art?” , “What materials do you work with?” All the while, his eyes were curious, his spirit enamored.
His response struck me. As I settled in with my mocha and my thoughts, I remembered how fortunate I am to make art for a living. Like, people actually pay me to make art! As I thought about it more, I also became astounded! I’m an artist! I get to make art. For fun. For a living. For healing. For community building. How freaking cool is that?
I spent the entire day walking around in amazement like I had unwrapped the most loving and surprising, and thoughtful gift of a lifetime.
The gift was his sincere and authentic response that jolted me back into what has been a truly unique journey of a lifetime.
The gift, always, is the art. That I get to be and do and explore and live a creative life. That I get to do it with others. That I’m supported. That art will always be a refuge.
I am lucky. I am grateful. And I hope it always remains.
Sending so much love,