I’m not a naturally anxious person, so predicting  anxious feelings  is hard for me. Anxious is the soft and distant relative of anxiety which is an entirely different thing. Anxious moments  are fleeting  but give me a moment to check and reflect on whatever I am about to do. The anxious, anticipatory feeling of butterflies in my belly is one of the great ‘ tingles’ of life. One of the loveliest feelings is the realisation that anxiety was not needed. A sensation that is like seeing the prickles of a horse chestnut, but only experiencing the gorgeous brownness of the conker and the delicate softness of the conker’s bed.  The experience, confidence and reliability of life makes the anxiousness quite unnecessary.

Yesterday I mentally berated myself and was a little anxious for forgetting to publicise a regular artist meet-up. One that I had helped to instigate in the post-lockdown period.  I imagined sitting at a vast table all alone, like billy-no-mates. Just me and my paints for two hours. I needn’t have been anxious. We have been doing this for nearly two years, every second Thursday of the month.  I needn’t have worried at all. As 10 o’clock approached artists started arriving, big bags of creative energy in their arms. The table filled up, three extra tables were needed and even with the extra tables, people were squeezed into almost non-existent gaps. Every surface was littered with creative paraphernalia and the cups and plates of artists needing nibbles.

The vast, industrial-sized space was filled with the noise of people sharing news and knowledge. Some people never even manage to unpack their projects because the talking and exchanging of ideas becomes the most important thing to do.

My little moment of anxiousness was quite unnecessary. As it usually is.