Learning To Fly..

The experience of life balance or attempt for life balance was so clear to me recently while flying my first kite. Just to get it off the ground felt like a miracle in aeronautics. Our five year old was the kite runner, yet there was so much wind he only needed to hold it in place as the wind moved past it. This whole process, of waiting, holding and balancing the kite is very much like the process of following life and where it may lead us.

The kite flyer is in all of us, consistently striving to hold onto our anchor or dowel as life pulls and tugs us in new directions. Our failures, let downs, and personal blocks are sometimes (old ways), that as humans, we try to hold onto. Trying something different like flying a kite can put a different perspective of how life can really be. It was amazing how just a little wind little wind can lift one to experience life effortlessly.

In life and in kite flying, we wait with anticipation for that right lift that will carry us with minimal effort or force. Because, with too much tether we barely catch our lift but rather limp along. A balance of letting out enough of who we are in the world without giving all of what we have in us away. With a little grit and determination, we hold on tight and we force change or things to happen for us in a certain way. A particular outcome. Forcing something that does not fit keeps us grounded. The fewer options we think we have in our life keeps us grounded. Creativity thrives on the many, on the endless possibilities that is available to us if we are open and willing to listen. Letting go and listening to the our inner compass helps us determine which way the wind is blowing or whether we need to put forth effort or be guided in the moment. When we live this way we discover self determination and a new life that appears without lift.

So we wait, and listen, to be guided by something greater than who we are. And just like that we are air bound! How we got there we do not know, yet we are there just the same. We watch in amazement as we fly, soar with pure joy and exhilaration. It almost takes our breath away. Quickly, we learn to be guided. It pulls on our heart strings, and we remember yes this is how it feels to be free. Feeling our way along, we fall behind this force, we are led and we have “let go.”

This freedom, we may have felt at times in our life or not at all. This is uncharted territory to be in this new place of unexpected change and growth. If we feed into this fear we will suddenly be taken off course or take a sudden nose dive back to earth. 

Without knowing where the winds of change may take us we start to feel the same anxiety we felt before we ever left the ground.  We worry that there may not be enough wind to fill our sails. We start to question what fills us out. Keeps us expansive and fulfills us from within. We pay attention to the wind direction,  to those things are in our life that fulfill us.

So we gently fall behind this grace once again, and there is stillness. Pure, stillness and a peace as we hang in the balance of where life can begin for us. Being fully present to where it may lead us. To be gentle with ourselves and others as we change and as life changes around us. The freedom to be more of who we are without imposing too many restrictions.

Living Outside the Lines

When I was on my walk this week, I noticed the flower bed that we pass was still empty of any type of growth. But, just beyond its borders there were tiny crocuses peeking their heads among the grass. This was obviously not the intention of the retirement home who have been known to plant the artificial variety.

What came to mind is that nature does not fit into tiny boxes. Nor, does it flourish there. It takes up space where it knows it will be best nurtured and cared for. Fresh air, an open field, flourishing outside the lines of the status quo.

Being happy with who one is and where one is headed in life reminds me of the tiny crocus. For some of us it means forging a path that is off the beaten path. Or not our usual course of action. What this means for each of us is different yet important. Planning the design of our life takes a certain type of artistry. Drawing out the rough sketches, of where we want our life to take shape and grow. This takes the ability to reflect on what type of space that speaks to the heart. And to not be surprised with the fact that when we listen to our heart it often takes us beyond the well kept borders of where we thought we belonged.

The esteemed author Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes that “eccentricity is the first sign of giftedness.” Which to me means the little bits and pieces that makes us unique or “eccentric,” is the best place to live from. When we live beyond self-imposed borders we quickly learn that our gifts and talents that we came here with has a place or a design in the world. And that we add color and character and often complement those in our life who also are also working at embracing who they are.

There are artists that plan their composition carefully ahead of time and there are others that compose as they go. And there are some like myself that do a little bit of both. Doing a rough sketch helps me have a framework to start from. I have noticed that for some artists they can look at the world and paint it exactly how it is seen. Almost like a photograph it turns out as an exact replica of what they are painting. I am amazed and have great respect for  how this process works for them. But, for me I have learned that this does not work. I like working from the sketch as a framework than expanding beyond those borders to let it take me where it will. A different color here, new shape there. Having some traces of the original but also taking on a life of its own. This is where I feel at home, having a little bit of freedom and taking a big sigh of relief knowing that my life or work does not need to look like anything real to the outside world.

There is no right way of composing in life or art. I do not claim to be an expert in either. Rather, a faithful gardener who is constantly seeking new ways of framing my art and life in such a way that speaks to the heart.

Art Inspires Hope..

 

“Sunrise in the Mountains.” Oil on Canvas

How does art inspire hope? It often stretches apart of us that knows no restrictions but pure potential and unlimited possibilities. While I am working I often find this place in my art where it feels a bit wild, and I am not sure where it is all heading. I want to pull in the reigns, step back or throw in the towel all together. But, I am learning to let it be and come back to it in a while. Or, waiting to just jump in and allowing it take me in different directions.

Allowing it to be wild, or living from the edges often leads us to something new or not experienced. I am learning to live from this place. This place is called hope,  where new things happen because following the usual course of action leads us to the usual places in both art and life.

When I start out on a painting there is so much anticipation, of what I want it to be or where I would like it to go. This anticipation or energy that builds momentum and carries the painting is what I am learning to be comfortable with. This excitement or anticipation can quickly turn to anxiety if not allowed to run its course. Being ok with that energy or momentum is where hope lies. That hope fuels what we do and how we do it. But there is also fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of how it will all turn out.  The fear and hope are all mixed together. Maybe, the hope and fear originate from the same place and it is just our interpretation of it that defines it as either anticipation or dread.

I like the word “interpretation” because I think of art. I have been in many courses where as artists we interpret another’s work. One person may see pure potential or hope within a painting and another picks out all the little imperfections or mismarks.

Isn’t life this way? How we define what it is to us personally with all the unexpected mismarks that happen along the way. Our persistence to create in our life and leaning toward a little more towards hope than fear. This is how art can fuel us and give us life. Art can sustain this hope. It can provide us with greater meaning and help us practice how to live in a place of hope. Art can provide little nuggets of truth along the way or moments of clarity that show us where next to make our mark. Feeling the anticipation, not defining it solely as fear but as the momentum or energy needed to take us to a new place in our life.

In the painting above “Sunrise in the Mountains,” there were many times of not knowing where it would lead. I often paint from what inspires or provides hope. I found a photograph on the internet of an aerial shot of a sunrise in the clouds. I loved this perspective of seeing a sunrise from above the clouds. Seen from a completely different point of view. I work from literally from the edges and work my way across the canvas adding layers upon layers of paint. From the edges are where the magic happens and the image takes shape. What appeared was a golden mountain peeking out from the sunrise within ribbons of cascading clouds. The mountain can symbolize many things but to me it speaks of the grandeur that is within all of us. A beacon of hope leading us on our way.

 

Celebrating The Good With A Garden

With spring approaching, I think of all the beautiful flowers that are the first to arrive on the scene. I also, think of how lovely it would be to have a garden. I do not claim to be a gardener, but I have a great respect for the practice of being an active participant of something like a garden that has a natural cycle to it. Whether we are tending the earth, our children or our jobs. We watch what we tend with an inquisitive eye as it changes, takes on new forms and guides us in new directions.

The act of gardening is a true example of this change we can be a part of as things in our life fall away only to reveal what is budding deep within. The exercise of working the land and working with one’s hands not knowing if what we plant will come to life. But, planting it anyways. Being quiet, and caring for something outside of oneself where one finds clarity and greater meaning.

There is planning involved where just like the blank canvas, the gardener busily plans in the winter months what will be apart of their landscape in the spring. Flowers, bean plants, potatoes, raspberry bushes. There is anticipation and excitement in the planning of what will be. The act of planning, putting our dreams “in action,” by putting a part of ourselves in the world. With a hope and a knowing that after the long months of winter spring is sure to arrive.

As an artist, I understand the connection to a place like a garden. Whether it be in our garden or the studio there is a place where we do our inner work where we plant the seeds of what we hope for in our life  and then wait. We go back to this inner place, or go underground when there is heartache, grief or loss. We till the earth, plant the seed in the empty places in our life and wait for the budding of new life to show itself to us once again. We take its cue, we take care of this new life and make sure that it is not overtaken or overcrowded with the life around it. We protect it, our creative life from that which will pull us away from it all together. It is our place where we say YES– I am willing to put my story into this and be part of what it has to teach me about death, growth , and renewed life.

Having this place like a garden can be where we see more clearly the “good” that we have in our life or that what we contribute to others. This “good” has beauty and importance and something that we may have discounted  from our life all together. The “good” that you do in the world, where it may seem small has a greater meaning to others than you can imagine. The “good” work that you do in the world has a story, and a place where it flowers. It is up to you to recognize this inner beauty within yourself and how it feeds those around you. IT is important and should be celebrated.

Celebrated in a place like a garden, or in a piece of art where all our senses are taken in and we are in complete awe of how beauty often arrives where we least expect. Yet, it also arrives in the places where we put on our apron, roll up our sleeves and put our whole heart and soul into. There is inherent abundance within a well kept garden, where we see truly what we have in our life verses what we have not.

 

The Unfinished Canvas- Being True to Who We Are

“Ambiguous Rose”- Unfinished Oil on Canvas (work in progress)

Inspiration, fear, the unknown. All describe the moments before putting paint to the blank canvas. What the blank canvas represents can all be a state of mind. We are either fearful of the unknown or feel inspired by what could be. What I have learned recently is that new ideas suddenly emerge when they are in right relationship with one another. Often when we think something is out of place it can really be in perfect harmony if left alone in its natural place.

Without the right context it doesn’t make sense. I learned this first hand this week while working on a new oil painting of a brilliant pink rose. There is always that moment while I am painting where I get lost, not seeing the whole. With my nose literally right up in the canvas I  am at a loss at which way to go. Do I add more pigment here? Was I too bold there? Are my values in harmony with one another?  Often when I get to this stage it is the white space or the unknown surrounding the image that I work on next. Because, I tell myself that without right context like in the case of the “ambiguous rose” it does not look like much of anything but a smattering of pink on white canvas.

So, I start adding context.  I think of what I may have done in the past that pulled a painting together. Waiting to be led and wondering if there will be struggle. Will there be obstacles along the way or will the path be clear? Most likely the struggle will surface but there will also be moments of pure clarity and knowingness how to proceed. Without giving much energy or emphasis on the “I think I may screw this up,” category but instead maybe just letting things be.

Sometimes by letting things be we think we are in the procrastination mode. However, there may be something deep within us that knows that even in the messiness or out of place something may look it has a place somewhere or somehow it’s just we can’t quite put our finger on it yet.

The unfinished canvas is in all of us. We are all beautiful and messy all at once. That is to change who we are or to subvert to someone else’s idea of who we should be is forgetting our own relationship to the world. The bigger picture. We all want to matter and feel that we fit somehow in all the aspects of our life. Yet, like the unfinished canvas we are all works in progress. Looking for ways to receive all those life giving elements needed to feel that sense of completion or wholeness within ourselves.

To change who we are for convenient sake or for someone else is like cutting the roots from a tree. All life-giving elements disappear in an instant. Often we subvert because we think we are being too bold. We tell ourselves to stop being who we truly are because it might just be too much. We conform because we think it is the only way to get through this world. Yet, few transformative experiences in life are tidy, neat and make any type of sense in the moment. They take time and often need that messy process of getting to know ourselves and our relationship to those around us.

When I look at a painting, it is in the relationship of color next to color that helps the image make sense. The interplay of each unique brush stroke having a life of one’s own but also contributing to overall pattern of the painting.True original expression cannot be planned in advance. And neither can we. As creators in our life and in our work the best we can do is to remain true to ourselves and open to what is moving in and around us. Without cutting ourselves off from what feeds us, fuels us, and allows us to be bold. Bold as defined by who we are without conforming to who we are not.

So, I will continue to work on my “ambiguous rose,” letting her take shape, not cutting her at her roots. But, allowing her to grow in context to her surroundings. Right where she is at in the moment, changing, evolving and occasionally getting the sense that she is right where she belongs.