Feel the fear & do it anyway?

There's something wild about how making art can feel like the best and scariest thing all at once. Those moments when everything clicks are pure magic - when your hands seem to know exactly what to do, when the piece takes on a life of its own, when you lose track of time because you're so caught up in creating. It's like being a kid again, completely free and totally yourself, just playing and discovering without overthinking it.

But then there's the flip side - that knot in your stomach when you face a blank canvas, that voice in your head saying you might mess it all up, that urge to keep tweaking things because they're not "perfect" yet. Sometimes it stops you dead in your tracks. You find yourself staring at your work, brush hovering, second-guessing every decision. Sometimes it's easier to pack everything away than risk making something that doesn't match the vision in your head.

Here's the thing though - I'm starting to realize that this back-and-forth between excitement and fear isn't something to fix or overcome. It's just part of the deal. The fear is there because you care, because you're pushing yourself, because this matters to you. And those moments of pure joy? They feel so good precisely because you had to push through something to get there. Maybe that's what keeps us coming back - this endless dance between "I can't wait to create" and "What if I can't?" At some point, you just have to smile at both feelings and keep making stuff anyway.