Nothing Lasts Forever

When you are in the flow of things… Writing. Painting. Making things… Everything seems easy. The work just comes to you…

Well, for me, it more like flows through me…

Either way, it doesn’t feel like work at that point. It is more like breathing. Like blinking. Auto… Automatic? Autonomic?

It just happens… Until it doesn’t.

Sometimes the climb becomes too steep. Sometimes the elephant is too big to eat. Sometimes your emotional state blows up and the flow is… well it is just gone. There is a big gaping hole where it was, which quickly gets filled up with garbage.

Fear. Anger. Anxiety. Depression. These speed bumps turn into barricades and it can take a minute to dig yourself out of that mess.

So here I am. Digging.

Digging for me can be a lot of things. This time around, I put aside everything and sort of sat and thought. And I walked and thought. I read. I did some research and made a mood board. Then I made the image above.

I love it and I hate it.

Then I read that Die Hard is based off of a story titled, Nothing Lasts Forever. Then I started writing a little. Then I hit another bump and sketched this bit:

It helped, but it didn’t get me over that bump. That hill. Didn’t get the rock to the top.

I couldn’t picture it. I couldn’t place it in mind right. I couldn’t get myself beyond all the horrible feelings and terrible thoughts. I needed something else.

I needed something finite and fixed. Something with an end that wasn’t a month from now. A day from now. Two. No more.

I grabbed a pack of ten 4x6 inch sheets of fancy Italian paper and a limited set of tools. I worked.

I like these. They feel right. I’m gonna use them. They helped clean up some of that garbage… But not all of it…

I still haven’t found the flow. Again.

If it was easy to find... Easy to hold onto… I would never let go of it. It’s food. It’s water. It’s necessary.

It’s a mirage. Just at the edge of my awareness. Just out of reach.

Until it isn’t.