M O V E. B A B Y M O V E
This is me,
The me I hide from some days.
The one I tuck inside your pretty boxes.
Sometimes I try to tell myself. NO, Stop.
Too much. It’s all too much.
But how is it ever enough?.
The art that lives in you and me?
5th form, 6th form do it THIS way.
THIS is art.
Actually, NO, That’s a B.
No honours for you.
Well today I chose again to honour me.
The me that lives inside.
Who still sometimes waits scared that no one will love this version.
But does it anyway.
Posts it all with closed eyes, in case her family, her friends see and say ‘no, not this way’, too much, too much, put it away.
She is the one who dances barefoot in the dirt.
Who never really finished a term of music or stuck at dance but when she dances her soul is wild. Alight.
The me who found herself looking around tonight.
Pushing through the doors, falling faster into wide open spaces.
Lungs bursting, needing movement like air. Just colour was not enough.
There in an empty field, in movement, my dancing limbs and shifting weight, every time I felt those non existent eyes on what I deemed not quite correct, the current me would pause.
Try it again.
Work harder to express some unknown move that no one was waiting for.
No one was looking and YET.
I paused. Controlled myself.
Until SHE insisted,
Pushing her way past every hesitation.
NO TIME to WAIT.
Dance, Move, Paint, Breathe, Give, Express!!!
Like wild horses running again drawing me past worry, past doubt and uncertainly.
This is the WILD nipping at my heels.
Unrelenting in pursuit of all that makes up ME.
All that is destined to be.
Wild, reckless abandon to designs unknown but prepared before time.
This eternal thing that moves in me with colours and sounds I can’t even pull down so I just throw colours in bowls. Mesh paint with my hands and MOVE.
Throw them to walls because they MUST COME OUT.
Hip Hop instrumental. fistfuls of paint, brushes with broken ends.
Colour stained hands, clothes, heart.
I can’t talk kids, mums painting the wall with her hands.
What does it mean? What is it? What are you painting mum?
Now hush. Lay your head and watch it breathe.
Come to life.
It doesn't matter if it's your style. Something happens in me.
THIS is what I do.
I start things, bring them to life. Wild chaotic ideas that have to come out.
You can’t WAIT to let these things out.
Can’t shelve them and save them for another day.
They come to you like wisps on the wind.
Sure, you can push them down but you won’t fill your lungs with air, deep and strong.
You’ll be left panting, wondering when you’ll have the energy to really RUN.
These are the deep creative breaths of air that you must take when they’re there for the taking.
An artist is not an accolade.
Not a chosen one.
An artist is one who CAN'T NOT.
Who’s flesh can no longer hold what brews and it spews out, somewhere somehow, always OUT.
Words, colour, movement, thinking, shifting, changing, always creating.
One who has to MOVE.
P.S- Did you know this was coming?
I didn’t until I starting writing this bit right here. This is another way I move and create.
Here's the exchange I feel. It comes from the real me that I’m sharing with you.
The one who knows you’re dying for this too.
For the wild to bust out of you. Bigger than even now.
I can provoke you to movement.
Wave words and ideas under your nose.
Like smelling salts to wake you.
This is the energetic shake up you've been waiting for.
I help successful creative women, not boring stick in the mud ones though ok?!
So that you can get even more out of life. So you can live wide awake to your design and the art in you. Awake to all the kinds of creativity and purpose you feel.
I don't muck around. I'll provoke the shifts and together we'll explore how it looks to be that new level version of yourself and break through what's holding you back.
And it will happen.
I feel it already.
There’s only three of you that this will hit, but it will hit hard.
You are altogether unconventional.
You’ve had them fooled trying to play their normal games but you KNOW there is more crazy and purpose inside of you than you care to admit.
Time to move baby, MOVE!
One month of provoking, stirring, 1:1
You and Me.
Moving in space and time, pushing into all of this creative thinking you need like air.
Out past the fears and hang ups that sneak up on you from behind.
Out into your wild and true design.
Leave the month charged up. Cobwebs blown out and wide awake again.
Wheels in motion.
New designs on life heaving with energy and vitality.
Move baby, MOVE.
If you think it's you, jump on this free call and we'll find out. www.megcowan.com/movebabymove