I pass a very popular thrift store every morning. I have avoided said store for most of my life. Only stopping once. Well before the long commute each morning that plops me at a traffic light directly beside the store. The store is chaos that I cannot do. People love it, it is a treasure trove for collectors and deal seekers alike. Complete with a parking lot that is difficult and busy from open to close. On my commute the other morning I glanced to my left. The window displays are usually changed every few days. They are illuminated at my dark 5am commute. All the treasures that I will never attempt to discover. But that morning there it was. An artist easel. A solid school grade easel. My new shop will have art projects and classes. I needed this! It was perfect! I thought about it most of the morning. Setting a timer on my phone. I couldn’t forget to stop on my way home. Sometimes the chaos of leaving work proceeds all else. I almost did forget. I had to change lanes last moment to turn into the parking lot. It was still there. All majestic and alone in the display, well other than a random pedestal sink… I parked easily. A spot close, no second lot today. As I was walking in the phone alarm rang. It was a sign. I went on an was immediately aware of the maddening energy of the place. I am an empath. I pick up energy. It can really effect me. I had my mission and after a very quick walk around the store I got in line. Maybe 4 people with giant carts in front of me. I waited, Billy Joel blasting about his life. The lady in front of me humming loudly but not quite to the song. Finally its my turn. The register girl was not aware of the easel. I quickly told her I would grab it from the window. I had the fear someone else would get it as I watched it go. Snatched from the window right before my eyes. Mechanical laugh and all. But I got to it. It was solid and in my hands with a cryptic shaky sharpie message on the back. NOT FOR SALE. I handed it over anyway and smiled. “This is not for sale,” she said. She was not rude, just certain. Final. I felt myself heat from the inside. Out to my ears. “But it was in the window” I said. The easel was a store easel for displays. It had showcased a painting that had sold. I left heated. Defeated. Enraged. This perfect moment of ‘this is the way’, ‘signs from above’. Crushed. I had my moment of what am I doing? Why do I think I can do this? You don’t deserve this. This store, this artist project, this alone. I drove back toward home. Took a scenic route. Stopped into my empty store and got my feeling again. I’m doing this. This is where I need to be. I need these moments of upheaval. When the perfect pond gets its rocks. Subtle as this may seem, this stopping at this place and the discomfort that it brought was a big deal to me. The not for you moment. I am learning lessons every day and trying to embrace them. I can’t let something as simple as an artist easel stop me from moving forward. These small moments would have stopped me in my tracks before. The moment rolling around in brain as a warning to give up. And I would have. I hope someone reads these blogs one day and gets a laugh and inspiration to keep going. And I need to realize I get an email every f*@&!$g five minutes with coupons from the craft store. 50% off one item anyone? Yes please.