The beginning is exciting, even thrilling. Imagining a thing is half the fun, picturing what it can and will be.
Collecting materials. It can be mundane, sometimes a pain, but even that doesn’t take away the spark.
But then, you start. Or at least you think about starting. And then, you think some more. You know you really should get going but for some reason,
Oh, look, the plants need to be watered. I need to do this thing for work. I’m just not feeling it today. I’m tired. Maybe next week. I would, but my friends invited me over.
The truth is, you’re daunted.
Planning was fun. Even gathering materials had its own little thrill because you know, this thing is actually gonna happen now.
But getting started. Whew, man. That’s hard.
You’ve created before. You know as much as you love it, that it’s a dirty, messy, gritty process.
It’s always harder than you think it will be. The path to creation is never straight and clear.
Sweat runs down your back and legs. Your body shakes from work it’s not used to and exhaustion. You curse others for a job poorly done that you now have to fix. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you walk by and see what you’d look like with grey hair because yours is covered in dust and you realize you can’t pull that look off so dying the hair it will be from now til your dead. And your face, well today it’s getting its own special exfoliation that didn’t come out of a tube or package but off your walls.
The initial vision becomes blurry. It’s hard to see because of all the dust. Literally and figuratively.
But you know it’s still there, so you press on. You know the dust will start to settle.
You pick up a rag, dip it in water, and begin wiping the walls.
Tired, you press through, because you know beauty and delight are coming.