show up.
Painting Circles
With a bucket of rusty tools in one hand and a walking stick in the other, carefully I descend a narrow footpath. Thankful for my sturdy boots I navigate between stumps and rocks while the kids in front of me run downhill barefoot. I find myself in a remote village in northern Guatemala with Medical Teams International helping install handwashing stations and latrines (I first wrote about it here).
No, I am not a skilled carpenter nor an experienced builder. I am not fluent in Spanish nor the native Mayan dialect. I have no medical skills nor health care expertise. But I am able to help dig a hole, hold a board, and use a rusty old saw.
To break it down…I can show up.
Showing up makes a difference.
It just does.
Whether you’re writing a blog or writing a book. Painting your bedroom or painting a canvas. Playing a tennis match or playing guitar. Building a guest house. Shooting a video. Opening an Etsy shop. Or volunteering.
Showing up is necessary.
I’m not talking about the showing up where you buy equipment and supplies.
Or the showing up where you’re watching youtube videos for research or inspiration.
I’m talking about the actual showing up that takes grit. That brings you to the edge of yourself. Prompting you to peel off the false outer veneer.
The incremental steps toward personal.
That version, the distinctive version of showing up is what I’m talking about.
It’s hard.
I know this from personal experience because I spent the greater part of last year avoiding it.
Showing up, that is.
A myriad of reasons and excuses run through my mind. Some of which include comfort. Perfection. Fear.
They presented sensible arguments against showing up. Their advice actually seemed wise at the time. I mean who can disagree that showing up takes effort? Can feel futile? Unimportant? And even silly?
And then risk comes along adding in another layer. If I don’t show up, well, that means I can’t be wrong. Or wounded. Or criticized. Or exposed.
I wince. Complicit in the struggle. My own worst enemy.
In those moments it is easy to forget about the beauty which lies dormant in your heart. I don’t mean physical beauty but that which sparks joy. Brings fulfillment. Triggers hope.
That’s the point, right?
Rather than stockpiling your joy or hoarding it for the future. Offer it up.
Share your talents. Your creativity. Your expertise.
I remind myself of these things.
Just show up.
So I set the bar low. Real low. Like scraping the floor low.
Like a kindergarten student developing fine motor skills, I paint circles on paper day after day.
This too is showing up.
One day, unexpectantly I paint on canvas.
Circles become faces. Flowers. Abstracts.
Quietly and without fanfare I’m finding my way. Putting one foot in front of the other. Showing up.
Looking back I realize I’ve learned a valuable lesson from that trip to Guatemala. Whether imperfect or unskilled. Wholeheartedly or halfheartedly. Steady or unsteady.
Just show up.
It makes a difference.
It just does.
“Ask anyone doing truly creative work, and they’ll tell you the truth: They don’t know where the good stuff comes from. They just show up and do their thing. Every day.”