Break number two...  As I painted this, I realized how when I paint, I really don't think much about painting itself. I notice the colors and strive to mix the colors well, but it's kind of an edge thing - not really aware. It's all about intuition and gut. As I mix, the color I need will leap to my mind like it came out of nowhere. And so I'll mix it. I know that this comes from habit and experience and trial and error, but I've learned to trust it and just let go. I once heard some famous batter say that... that his secret to batting success was to not even think about batting. He just let his body swing. Thinking about it screwed it up. And that's makes sense - the conscious brain is much slower than instinctive responses, and when that ball travels that fast, there's no time for a conscious response. Isn't it that way with most things though? The guitarist, who mives fluidly through a solo and just feels his way along the song. The mom, who recognizes the subtle sounds of her home and her baby, and knows with an almost sixth sense that something is wrong. The speaker who stands before hundreds of people and knows just what to say and how to say it to keep their rapt attention. It's instinct, built by practice and experience. It's also trust. And for that reason, I'm grateful for painting. It teaches me to trust: the colors, the brushes, the process... that's valuable for so many areas of life. Think about relationships... I'm still doing background work, but I can feel it come forward. It's almost like painting with my eyes closed, which probably makes sense to no one, but that's how it is. | 
