When I allow myself the space and time to paint, I always gravitate to mandalas. I have sketchbooks filled with them. This mandala represents family, the strength and durability of a well functioning cohesive unit. Each different, but complementary. 

There is something to be said for learning a new skill. Even if that skill is as inconsequential as learning to oil your own lawn mower (yay!). There is empowerment in meeting a challenge and rising to the occasion. 

There is something even more to be said for learning how to ask for help while you're on the learning curve. One of my favorite personality quirks I love to deny is my stubborn defiance to ask for help. People assume it's an ego thing, not wanting to look like I can't do something. Perhaps that is part of it...but the bigger part is wanting to feel the accomplishment of learning what the solution is completely on my own. I've never been one for the short-cut to anything. If I'm to learn something, I want to pick it apart, learn it and piece it back together. I want to learn it inside and out. 

Sometimes this leads to...well...let's call them "unconventional" ways of doing things. But sometimes, taking things apart help me figure out the logical solution. And what's logical to me, might be complete gibberish to someone else. The real point is...when you set out to learn something new...if you're picking it apart bit by bit, you learn a series of things. Not just one. Bits of knowledge that serve a purpose somewhere down the line. Still, when the answers aren't coming so easy (or your attempts lead to smoke and sweat and frazzled nerves)...the wisest of us consults those in the know, with "quiet dignity and grace." (See: the Young Frankenstein video below - which would probably be a more accurate assessment of how I respond to hitting the progress wall) 

I'll be applying this philosophy to my next learning opportunity: teapots. Ugh. The very bane of my existence. Oh wait...I meant, YAY...an opportunity to expand my skills!