The balm of Gilead

There are times when I look on the body of my work and feel completely incompetent. I see my gifts as falling short of those blessed with sheer genius. I am mediocre. That horrible word synonymous with purgatory. Halfway between heaven and the pits of hell.

I chose practical work because I was attracted to working with something that is visible. Bottom lines and profits don't appeal to me as much as pictures- moving and still- and words that touch the untouchable.

But now, I sit, looking at my mediocre work and wonder whether I was ever really good enough or just full of ambition and naive enthusiasm.

I feel like Matthew, sinking slowly. I feel like I COULD walk on water, but yet have failed to. It seems to prevent drowning, I need to fully let go and give myself over. But how can I do that when I cannot swim?

I spent so many years snuffing out my own voice that I cannot seem to connect with my own truth anymore.