Back in Motion

Two weeks ago I went to work on a rice farm.

Twelve-hour days. Every day.

My job was driving a nurse truck that supplied fertilizer to a tractor working the fields. For two weeks my world became dirt roads, diesel engines, sunsets, and nearly 3,000 acres of rice ground.

At the time it seemed like the smart thing to do. A short stint of work for a decent paycheck to keep funding this art life experiment.

The work was demanding. Aqua ammonia is toxic and corrosive, so there were moments when I felt like I had wandered onto the set of Breaking Bad with my gloves and goggles.

During the long stretches of waiting, I’d sit in the truck and sketch.

Heads. Trees. Equipment. The horizon.

Nothing special.

Just trying to keep connected to my art while passing the time.

Looking back, I think those sketches were the first sign something was changing.

There wasn’t enough energy left for worrying about social media, sales, followers, or whether I was making the right art. I just drew what was in front of me.

Somewhere out there I started slowing down.

One of the biggest lessons came from driving the truck itself.

When I first started, I wanted to control everything. I gripped the wheel too tightly and overcorrected constantly. But after a while I realized the truck drove better when I relaxed. Sit back. Pay attention. Make small corrections when they’re needed.

The harder I tried to force it, the worse it went.

The more I trusted the process, the smoother the ride became.

I think painting has been trying to teach me the same lesson for years.

When we finally finished, I couldn’t believe it.

Nearly 3,000 acres.

Two weeks of long days powered almost entirely by momentum and adrenaline.

Now the adrenaline is gone.

I’ve been home for a week and the whole experience already feels strangely distant.

Like it happened to someone else.

I’ve found myself feeling disconnected from my life. From my art. From my routines. Even from people I care about.

Nothing feels quite real.

And for the first time in my life, my mind has been frighteningly quiet.

I’ve tried meditation on and off for years. I always gave up because I could never seem to quiet my thoughts the way everyone said I should.

Now it has happened by accident.

The noise is gone.

And honestly, I don’t know what to do with that.

Part of me keeps waiting to feel like myself again.

But maybe that’s the wrong goal.

Maybe I’m not supposed to go back.

Maybe this is just another version of me.

I’m trying to put myself back into motion. 

So I’m here. 

Doing something that was easy and natural before but frustratingly difficult this morning. 

I was following a path before and now it feels like I’m trying to find one again. 

Before I was talking about listening to my art, following it where it led me and maybe I have to accept that this empty old head of mine is in the perfect place to just listen.