Love What You Love: The Path to Your Own Voice

Hello friends!

I hope this finds you with paint under your nails, a sketchbook nearby, or at least a moment of quiet inspiration in your day.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Mary Oliver's poem "Wild Geese." If you're not familiar with it, or if it's been a while, the opening lines always stop me in my tracks:

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Those first four lines feel like permission—gentle, fierce permission—to really connect to what genuinely moves us.

So many of us scroll through social media or galleries and see stunning work—work that takes our breath away—and the first thought isn't always "I love this," but "Why can't I paint like that?" We ache to do exactly what we see, convinced that that is the right way, the better way - the way we should be going.

But here's the gentle truth the poem points to: we don't have to become someone else to make meaningful art. That longing is a signal, not a failing. Our own path—the one that leads to our truest, most alive work—begins exactly where we are, with what we already love, even if it's quiet or different or not yet fully formed (it's a process).

Our voice isn't hiding behind someone else's style. It emerges when we notice and follow what genuinely calls to us, without apology or imitation.

• Maybe thick, juicy brushstrokes feel like they're carrying emotion right onto the canvas for you.

• Or perhaps loose, energetic squiggles and lines make your hand move freely in a way nothing else does.

• Maybe it's the way light dances in a scene, or the magnetic pull of bold color chunks.

• Or—yes—shimmering gold that turns florals into something luminous and alive.

The practice is simple: when you feel that "why not me?" pang looking at another's work, pause. Shift the question to "What do I love here?" Name it honestly—"I love how the light glows in this passage," or "The looseness here feels so free," or "I love these colors." Then bring a tiny piece of that love into your own work. Over time, those honest notices become the thread that weaves your unique path.

No forcing, no comparison, no walking a hundred miles through the desert. Just gentle attention to what calls to you.

This week, give yourself this small, kind practice: When you encounter art that sparks that familiar ache, pause and ask, "What do I love in this?" Jot it down in a sketchbook or your phone notes (or even mentally). Let it guide one small choice in your next session— a stroke, a color, a mark. See where it leads.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

P.S. My newest class, Shimmering Gold Florals, is live now if you're curious—it's all about playing with flowy florals and lucious gold ink - something you know I love! It's on Skillshare and on my website. Also, this featured YouTube video has my favorite gold pens and inks - woohoo!

With warmth and belief in your one-of-a-kind path, Suzanne