The shivers are upon us. Gradually transitioning towards bleaker days, I’ve added the extra outer layer for safekeeping against the brisk chills of September. As I wrap my cardigan tightly around me I’m reminded I’ve just welcomed the last remaining month of (British) Summer 2021. Crossing my fingers for another heatwave, I’m just not ready to let go of my favourite season.
Cozying up on my chair I have back to school fever, despite having graduated years ago. Sprucing up my goals on writing, I keep telling myself “practice makes perfect”. I’ll be that writer whose work I used to admire listening to in English class. After every blog post I ask, am I there yet. Close is the answer and that’s good enough for me. My full-of-gratitude mind in reminiscence of passages from The Secret paints my thoughts with a mosaic of affirmations:
I am a good writer.
I create art through my words
I am creative and my words flow effortlessly.
I visualise achieving my writing goals.
I am attracting my ideal writing opportunities.
Inspiration flows to me and through me at all times.
I am receiving an abundance of messages for writing opportunities.
I invite new writing opportunities into my life now.
Everywhere I go I prosper.
I am deserving of blessings.
I am ready and open to receive new writing projects now.
Having read about what the mind and thoughts alone can conquer, I refuse to let mine settle. Unlocking my skills with trials and errors. I pick myself up after every fall; one for falling and two for getting up. Each fall has been a lesson I have now graduated from. I wear their heavy medallions with pride.
The copious cosmos that wraps itself around me is mine to call home and explore. I’ve decorated it with strength and faith and look up every night to watch them glisten in the dark. In this bountiful space there are no limitations. Whichever flowery path I wish to take, I’m ascending and advancing towards my writing goals.
Blame It On Art 