true confessions

The day after Thanksgiving I had an emergency root canal, and it looks like I'm going to have to have the tooth extracted. I've been having problems with that tooth for about a year, maybe even more, so after my initial shock and anger wore off, I realised there are a lot of things in my life that I just kind of live with and ignore for way too long. Art time being a big one.
I've had an order for a custom made ring for about 6 months, that I never seem to be able to get to making. And a few weeks ago, an old customer emailed for a replacement for a pin she'd bought from me a few years ago. I've stopped beating myself up for missed art submission deadlines. And I've been trying to plan a trip to India for 3 years.
So what gives? John Lennon said that life was what happened while we were busy making other plans. And my life is a busy one. Karate, harmonium lessons, a spot in an antique center, laundry, a 3-day a week job and the odd additional freelance assignment. But why does art always come last, squeezed into the last moments of a life that seems always to be in transition.
Traveling back and forth between my home in the Hudson Valley, and the work week in NYC packs a wallop. The house is in a constant state of disarray. Art supplies are everywhere, and nowhere to be found when I need them. I've been trying to get my studio cleaned up and organized for about a year now, and though I've made some progress, it's still not workable.
I dream of a clean, new, wide open, completely empty light filled space to live and work in. Which is why I started selling antiques and collectibles 6 months ago in an attempt to clear out the house and my life.
Everywhere I turn there is more to be purged. Often I just turn away and distract myself with something that feels more manageable. A bath, the dishes in the sink, a hike. I try to divide and conquer with small jobs that aren't too overwhelming, like a stack of magazines that can go to the dump. But even so, in the office which we've been trying to clear out for over a year as well, there are piles of unopened mail, much of it junk mail, that I just can't seem to get through. Weeding out what needs to be read, and what can just be tossed or run through the shredder is a time suck I avoid like the plague.
I hate the idea of life as one big long to do list, the day divvied up by tasks to be performed on a time schedule. But I'm beginning to think that it may be the only way to make any progress.
I was successful for a number of weeks, maybe even a month or two, in setting aside a couple of hours a week to work on my book, but even that has fallen by the wayside the last few weeks.
Progress in everything seems to be at a snail's pace, and every step forward, even giant ones like the remodeled mud room and new washer and dryer, seem to come with the proverbial two steps back.
My biggest question of myself always comes back to this: why isn't art #1? Forget the tired old answer of needing to earn a living. How can I make art the first thing I do in the morning and the last thing I do before sleep? How can I take the approach of the bhakti yogis, who strive to think of god in every moment.
It's not unrealistic really. Art is in the living, it's in the moment. It's just a matter of turning idea into a physical manifestation.
And perhaps, as I've done this morning, taking advantage of not being able to sleep, and turning it into an opportunity to write.
I just wish I could find a way to attach a video cam to my hip. Although I might never find the time to edit, I'd feel like I was making art.