Whenever I think I’ve got some kind of handle on the way my life is unfolding or the way I am handling myself in a situation or a mindset, I get reminded that maybe I don’t have it so altogether as I might think that I do. It’s ok. It’s not like a big disappointment or anything. It’s just that I need to re-adjust my self-assessment and rethink my mode of operation.
Actually, I feel gratitude when I am reminded that I’m not perfect. I’m human. There is joy in the release of the self-imposed expectation of perfection. I can quit striving to attain some mystical outcome, and immerse instead in the process. Somewhere in that process of creating, as I am neck deep in the doing of art or swimming in the pool of poetic expression, I lose my sense of self-absorbed condemnation. Instead, I become merely the piece itself. And the piece becomes me for that moment. I am complete in my imperfectness, and I am full of joy.
Today, I am singing praises for artists like Melissa Dinwiddie at the Thriving Artists Project who seem to have dedicated themselves to changing the world with courageous impetus. Even more than that, they are sharing the thought processes behind their hutzpah. I joined Thriving Artists Project with intrepid heart, truly ready to move into a different experience. Melissa has provided a brilliant intervention and has been a huge catalyst of growth in me and my artistic self. I will be ever grateful for the artistic jumpstart.
In one of her many interviews with other successful artrepreneurs, she introduced me to Ann Rea, another thriving artist. They both share the life-changing practice of doing daily diligence (my words) in your art. I make my living doing graphic design and illustration. I love what I do, and yet my heart, my center is in expression through fine art practices. I had gotten so busy doing my (graphics) work that I did not allow myself the (fine art) work time. So, I was touched deep inside reading the suggestion that I commit to a minimal amount of engaging in art practice every day. I am a changed woman, certainly a changed artist.
Ever since I made the promise to myself that I would paint or fully engage in another inspired creative endeavor for a minimum of 15 minutes everyday, things have been changing for me. First, it hardly ever ends at only 15 minutes, as once I am engaged in the process, I will stay there until I feel complete. I am developing a fresh body of work. I have started a whole new series of acrylic and mixed media paintings. It is my intention to have a major show at a gallery this year. And I will do it.
Second, the daily discipline opens up my creative thought processes so that I am much more engaged and effective in my graphic design work as well. As I read in The Artists Way and Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain years ago, tapping daily into the well of creativity will impact all areas of your life. I am deeply grateful for the nudge back into the experiential remembrance of this understanding.
When I was in the 3rd grade we moved to Canyon, a small place with only 30 houses and a 2 room school house in the Redwoods. I have always felt this was home, home of my childhood. Recently, CBS did a “Road to Nowhere” episode about Canyon. It warms my heart with great joy to see this, and see those places I was so nurtured as a child.
And so we walked down tiny paths to school, and did plays, and a luau, and I learned to hula and wrote letters to the president, and learned so very much. My community was my extended family, and I felt loved and wild and joyous. It was a wonderful place to grow up.
When I think of all of the people that touch my heart every day in my community and my extended community, I am filled with joy. I thought that I would make a little valentine for every one of you.
When I was young I could sleep for hours and hours. I stayed up until wee hours of the morning, painting or reading, or just gazing at the moon. Then I could easily sleep until noon. The only way I ever saw the sunrise was by staying up until it arrived. I loved my time in the stillness of the night, when everyone else was sleeping. And I loved the luxurious quality of my welcoming bed when I passed out from exhaustion.
My body does not fare well when I try to stay up too much later than 11pm anymore. I did a one year stint of graveyard shift graphic design several years back that cured me of that ability. Ever since I recovered from that job, I am useless in the late evening.
On the other had, I don’t sleep like I used to when so much younger, either. A lot of times, I’ll wake up at 3-4 am with a sudden inspiration that just won’t shut up. I keep index cards and a pen by my bed so I can write those down, ease my mind, and hopefully go back to sleep. Many times, though, the index card trick will not suffice. So, I rise.
In the stillness of early morning, I once again find that delicious solitude that feeds my spirit longing. As I engage in whatever creative endeavor the muse has prodded me toward, joy wells up and I know deep peace once more. I love to greet the sun infused with this creative joy. And I am grateful I only need my own permission to take a nap.
