Write

Dear blog,

I am practicing. I am trying and practicing. The art practice, is a practice. A practice means I am still practicing. So if I am still practicing, it means I should not feel bad when what I do is not perfect. I am practicing to live with the urge to do things well, and navigate the urge around a boulder of sorrow, to then float along the canal of ease and just, action, doing, practicing. Yesterday night I fell into the pit of doomscroll despair. Doomscroll should be word of the year. The next morning once again, I woke up with my thumb glued to by screen, barely had my eyes open, not one braincell was awake enough to take in the light of my screen. I felt like I didn’t even sleep. But that evening of yesterday night, I practiced. I practiced writing. Like a child at school. I rediscover the shape of letters, and I write without going anywhere. I navigate my hand to follow the words that crash on the shore like waves, but I don’t predict them. This practice of writing makes me feel at peace. My thoughts are so fast and so slow at the same time. Is this possible? I practice to practice life. My art is my practice. Skateboarding is the teacher of all practices. Because there is never an end to what is possible. The process of skateboarding is inherently part of the whole of it. Therefore there is never and end to practicing is. And this is true for so many things. Practice.