Last weekend, Colleen, the kids, and I went to the craft store, bought some small canvases and paints, and came home to paint some original masterpieces.
We spent the next hour creating. It was great. When I say that it was great, let me be clear that my painting was not great. It pretty much sucked. That was not the point. The point of painting was not to create the next Matisse or Picasso, but rather to just enjoy the act of creating.
I am not at all skilled at painting, which forced me to be open to making something for the sake of making it. To create unnecessarily, without worrying about the quality of the outcome. Creating just for the joy of doing it. Yes, there were a few moments where my inner critic was telling me to throw in the paint brush and quit, but I just focused on being in the moment, doing my best, and not worrying about placing judgement on the act of creating. Basically, I watched what my kids were doing, how happy they were to be creating, and tried to follow their lead.
I hope to paint more bad paintings soon. I probably won’t blog about them, but wanted to share this one. Heck, I might hang it in my office at work to remind me of the importance of cultivating the beginner’s mind. It felt really good to really enjoy being really bad at painting.
In the end, the best thing we created was a great memory.