The Wrong Shirt Saves the Day

aka let's start there

It started out as a good day. I’d had a solid night’s sleep, which is not something I can count on, so I was feeling rather content. I sipped a cup of coffee while I listened to the birds singing. I walked from the house to my Studio/She Shed. I adjusted the chair at the desk and opened the window. I pulled my journal and pen from my bag, opened my laptop and started Substack scrolling. A cool breeze eased through the window over my desk. The sun was shining. The scene was ripe for inspiration to fall across me like a gentle tide. I felt the first thought rise to the surface, and I leaned in so I wouldn’t miss it. The whisper came:

“We’re wearing the wrong shirt.”

I looked down at the long-sleeved, light blue, paint-stained shirt I had pulled out of the closet to toss on over the gray age worn slacks with stretched-out pockets. Whatever was I thinking? Just because I had slept well didn’t mean I was in a position to choose the right clothing for an otherwise perfect moment of capturing inspirational thoughts.

Even though it was the right coffee in the right cup at the right temperature didn’t mean I was poised to receive. Even though the temperature was cool without being cold, the breeze gentle without being brisk, the sun shining without glaring didn’t mean the atmosphere was actually set for the moment. What had been perfect was now so much less than, and I found myself on a downward spiral. I was standing at the precipice of that review of my entire life where every beginning I thought was a gem of inspiration moved right until it fell hard against a brick wall of defeat.

This happens every time I feel like I am faltering. I end up against the same annoying, almost soul-crushing, uncertainty. Was this yet another moment where I thought I was headed in the right direction for once? Did I, as I had done so many other times, need to regroup, start over, try something totally different, chuck all of this in the trash and take up another creative activity, or maybe even a non-creative activity, whatever that might be.

As I stared at my long-sleeved blue shirt, I started wondering instead of this being one of those moments where I had to do something, I might just need to hit pause. Was it possible that a moment where I was less than perfectly aligned wasn’t a good reason to give up on a process I’d been successful at for the last month. Maybe I just needed to relax a bit. Maybe I could possibly benefit from just sitting with the breeze, and the bird songs, and the sunshine. In all of those situations that had threatened to flood out of the internal closet where I kept such things tucked away, I had felt like I had to do something. I had thought I had to act somehow. I just knew I had to decide. I was certain I had to change the who, what, when and where even if I didn’t know why.

So, taking the kind of risk I had been inspired to consider after reading Substack writers who were struggling just like I was struggling, I put down the pencil. I scooted back from my desk, and I walked to the door.

I looked out at the place in the garden where the daylilies were preparing to bloom. They didn’t even have scapes yet, but their leafy greenery was claiming every inch of the area they’d been given because they knew they were destined to bloom. They were soaking up the sun, stretching into the breeze. Just then, there was a whisper nearby and I just needed to listen. I leaned in again so I wouldn’t miss it:

“That bit about the shirt got your attention.

Remember that guy about how it works until it doesn’t?

Let’s try again.”

Inspired by Substack writer The Daily Obsessive Greenhouse 3.0 May 22, 2025. Art Journal inspired by The Cranky Crafter, YouTube content creator. Garden tended by David Hampton.