Gerry and I have been playing chess regularly for over a year. When we first started, I made foolish moves and didn’t think ahead. It was a given that he’d capture my king but I was determined to improve so I persevered.
Loss after loss. Angst upon angst. Until, one day, I won! I let out a whoop, did a little dance and celebrated loudly—perhaps in a less than sportsmanlike manner.
Then I went back to losing.
These days, I win a reasonable number of games. My appreciation for the strategy required to control the board increases every time we play. I enjoy chess as much—possibly more—than when we started playing.
I decided to dabble with watercolour painting a couple of months ago and I’m having a grand time with it. I sit at my table, mix colours, and create images that are not technically good but are satisfying to me nonetheless. I watch YouTube videos and get a good measure of fulfillment from observing the process and picking up tips.
In time my work will improve, for now I’m content with the process and the art I am making. It’s not good, but I hesitate to call it bad. Watercolour is doing what I need it to do in this season: it’s giving me space to meditate and ponder using a different part of my brain.
Today is Monday. As I think about the week ahead and the things I hope to accomplish I leave plenty of free space in which to sit in my woman cave, listen to music, think deep thoughts, and wash paint on paper.