My three-year-old drew this picture for me today at school. She enthusiastically tells me it’s a picture of a “grab hopper”. I have no idea what a grab hopper is.
But it really doesn’t matter.
I love her art. Because it’s art in the truest sense. It’s her innocent untainted expression of what was inside of her, her vision, beautifully showcased on a canvas of 20 pound multipurpose paper with a cheap brown felt-tipped marker.
I’m certain that during the creative process she was never once concerned about what anyone else at her table thought about her drawing. They, too, were far too busy expressing themselves as well, gleefully showing each other their unique masterpieces.
Art. Without the art critics. Just art.
How much of the art that lies within us is never shared with the world simply because we fear it will be harshly measured, judged, evaluated, compared, criticized? How much of what we really are – our voice, our vision, our passion – remains suppressed simply because we’ve empowered the critics and cynics around us? You know, the ones that will lovingly tell you all the reasons why things probably won’t work out anyway?
The best way to silence the critics is to dive in anyway. Then just keep on swimming. At your own pace.
Within each one of us lie unique gifts that only we can offer to the world. A gift that makes the world better. Wouldn’t today be a great day to again start sharing them?
C’mon. How often do you get to act like a three-year-old?
It’s a great day to be you!