Lately, things seem to be working out pretty much in my favor.
It’s been such a funny constant that even when things look problematic, I think to myself, well, however this rolls out, it’ll come out good for me. Weirdly, it has played out like this several times.
What if this is my new normal?
We landed back in CA, love our home here, love our busyness, love that so many fun opportunities keep presenting themselves, our departure keeps getting delayed…
What is happening?
I did decide back in December to change my mind about some things. Somehow the concept that I am not at the mercy of outside circumstances, that instead, I can decide to influence my own mood, sunk in. I realized, like I read in The Untethered Soul, nothing is worth closing my heart over.
I wonder if that made this difference? I’m not saying it’s all easy, it’s not always roses. I’ve had plenty of chances to practice, but I will say that I’m improving.
It made a convincing argument that if you wanted to be an artist, you had to be a confident person.
I was young.
I wanted to be cool, and confident, and an artist…at least I thought I did. I mean who didn’t?
All I knew for sure was that I was ‘good’ at art. It felt like an impossible distance from my assessment of myself to what the book seemed to be suggesting, though.
I guess that’s how it became my impossible quest. I NEEDED to be confident. I wanted to be. According to the book, it was necessary.
Art in college was competitive. The instructors pulled no punches. Even if I could keep up with raw lucky talent, we all were encouraged to compare ourself, our work, while being pushed to do new, never done before assignments and then criticed. My own small measure of confidence was chipped away at. I emerged feeling like less of a potential artist than I did going in. Definitely less confident.
Finally, after years of living with this stumbling block, someone suggested to me that confidence is a state, not a personality trait (as I had always thought). Everyone has confident moments doing things they’ve done a million times. We all get better at certain things and become confident while doing them.
Some people seem to have a natural tendency towards bravado. They give off confident vibes. (many teenagers master this). They seem to know before they actually do. This fake it ‘til you make it persona used to fool me all of the time. I believed for a good stretch of my life that most everyone was better than me at most everything, and if they weren’t, they believed they were so strongly that it didn’t matter. My skill or knowledge was easily trumped by another’s bravado.
When I finally understood the state of confidence, I had had enough experience to step back and really see this. Bravado or confidence could be conjured. I too could create this state of mind anytime, anywhere. In fact, I already had.
Lots of times. Without realizing it.
This shift in perspective changed everything. Where I once believed that I could never BE an artist, sure I could do art, but not as an artist, I finally saw that I actually was one all along.
It seems pretty silly now, this little distinction, but it is interesting how self assessment can play a powerful role in how one approaches the doing of things.
What activities do I lose myself in? Easy question. Anything creative, art related. Research. Staging. Hours fly by in minutes. Is that losing myself? Or finding?
I like this question because it hints at the idea of flow state. The falling out of time state. What happens when we lose awareness of our physical bodies, or things around us and we collapse fully into whatever we are focused on.
When I was first ‘diagnosed’ with ADHD I read a lot about the condition. One of the things that stuck out was the constant mention of what was referred to “hyper focus” Ironically, people with ADHD have two tendencies. One is to jump from thing to thing (multitasking is born of this). The other is to over focus on one thing. I felt like they were onto me, and yes, those are my super powers.
Things weren’t moving fast enough for anyone to see these traits as good back then, but luckily the pace has picked up and I don’t even think about ADHD as anything more than a possible like minded community.
It’s not an affliction for me because, I accept it’s down sides and have learned to play to its strengths.
Sure I rarely sit still, my attention span is what it is. If I’m bored, l start thinking about something else unrelated or jump ahead in a conversation. I geek out on random subjects and can’t stop my intense curiosity. My brain is at times in overdrive.
But do I understand and fully embrace FLOW.
It’s how yoga became a thing for me. Yoga gets me into a flow state every time. I can arrive with a head full of racing thoughts and leave one hour later detached and calm.
Doing art was how I used to achieve this mind space, but it didn’t always deliver. Art can be stressful at times. It has its sticky not very zen moments. Bringing something new into the world is labor. Yoga gave me practice and consistency. I got better at dropping in. This has helped me so much with doing art as well.
I know with certainty that I can close out the world and get an art project started or finished. I have my own little hacks. I have control now over this flowing. It used to show up by accident, (so it seemed). Conditions had to be right etc. Now I create the conditions. You might have guessed that slow breathing is how it starts, getting my parasympathetic nervous system onboard.
The middle of a project has many variables, decisions, and moments of uncertainty. It’s a whole thing. I have learned to relax, walk away, take breaks, sleep on it, basically try different things when I’m feeling off.
So yeah. Most of the time I lose myself doing things I’m captivated by. Art etc. I love when I lose track of myself and time.
I woke up to the sound of repetitive crashing. Something being blown about in the droning wind and rain. A few sideways palm trees, dramatic outside my window
At the beginning of the movie Mary Poppins, there’s a bit about the winds of change blowing in, and then Mary shows up with her fanciful umbrella landing. If you watch the back story with Tom Hanks, there probably was something that felt magical about the aunt showing up in the young author’s struggling family’s life. Just like Mary in her story.
Wind is a symbol of change Whether it’s about to happen or happening. March is the month that transitions winter into spring. Its a dramatic change in regions, not nessesarily California, a wind full of possibilities. Growing plants, the first flowers. Summer on the horizon.
I love the feeling of early spring. Newness, fresh air, promise. The certainty of rebirth in tiny buds of green. No wonder there are so many long held traditions to celebrate this time of year. There’s a little excitement to look forward.
This stormy windy March holds some unknowns, or rather, possibilities. Many opportunities, many beautiful moments are in store. Summer will follow spring, it always does…
It does sometimes pour in California. Just like the song says. “It doesn’t rain in California… but man, it pours…”
Today was one of those days. I went out early to walk, but turned around after we started to feel a few drops. By the time I got to my car, I was soaked.
The gray skies and constant sound of falling rain, plus changing into cozy inside clothes and slippers, led me to thoughts of tomato soup and what else? Grilled cheese sandwiches, of course.
I texted G. He agreed. So I braved the elements, dashed to the store, came home a little drenched, but ready to make soup.
I grew up on Cambell’s and actually have fond memories of their version. I haven’t had it in years but I remember it being sweet. Probably too sweet for me as a grownup, plus there’s no telling what goes into processed soup nowadays. I wanted to create my own homemade loosely inspired by Cambells comforting creamy soup to go with grilled cheese. My own perfect rainy day pairing.
Oh my! This did deliver. I love puttering in the kitchen, making up delicious food. I love it when it turns out even better than I’d hoped. I had pretty high hopes today, so good job, me.
Again, lucky to spend an afternoon painting (working) while hearty soup simmers on the stove. How better to enjoy a stormy day.
…heavy cream swirled in, a little fresh basil, perfectly toasted grilled cheese, yeah…it really was that good.
A little something I’m working on. It’s for a Tibetan meditation center. You may have seen prayer flags before. (I’ll find a picture). I’ve seen them and never looked too closely, until this week.
There are five images on each flag, each one representing and depicting symbolic details. As I work on this commission I’ve learned so many things. The horse is called the wind horse and carries a jewel on its back which represents good fortune.
Wind flags are meant to be outside in the wind moving, literally blowing in the wind. This alone symbolizes flow and movement. You can have more wind horse energy or less, I like the moving quality of this, which could be interpreted as perspective or even focus. The horse is in the center.
I personally am trying out the experiment of finding more evidence of my own luckiness. Good fortune and lucky are interchangeable terms here.
Who knew that my favorite animal as a kid was the lucky wind horse! Uh, well, maybe no wonder.
Up until fairly recently, I thought of myself as super lucky, (guiltily so). Whatever happened that made me stop, I’m not really sure, but I decided to start looking for evidence of my own luckiness again. Apparently fortune/luckiness can change like the wind. So can perspective. So can focus. Hmmm. Interesting…
In California it’s as though I’m a different person.
Today I was starting a design job. After about ten minutes of suggestions, my client looked at me and said wow, I love all these ideas! You’re amazing! Without thinking I just said:
Thanks, I’m freakishly good at this.
I’d just spent a handful of days staging another house which came out beautifully.
I have a different kind of confidence here. Art-show on Friday, a painting to finish and sign. Cards to get ready, emails written and sent etc, I’m feeling zero stress. As I get things ready, drive to my staging job, work long hours, I’m enjoying myself.
In Connecticut, I do art on the sly. It’s possible that my skill set doesn’t transfer.
I wonder how I can be a better me there. If it’s even possible…
When I was at the end of seventh grade, my family moved back to Canada. It was for me, the worst move yet. I went from being a thriving A student, swimming every day, friends with everyone, winning art awards, happy…
To
Ridicule. Daily contempt from my peers. Utter disconnect from teachers.
They jeered my clothes, my hair, the way I walked. They jeered every award I got, especially the academic ones. How was getting good grades so terrible? How was everyone smoking? I was a year behind at twelve. The maturity gap alone was a chasm. My response was to lay low, ditch my CA clothes, stop doing homework, and throw myself into a silent world of art. I barely spoke for two years.
Fortunately summer arrived right after our move. So did a friend from CA. Things didn’t improve really until tenth grade when I got the chance to go to a school that was a better fit. It wasn’t California, but I was able to find friends, do well in school, exist in peace.
I always knew California was my home. That part of Calgary definitely was not.
Luckily for me, G and I will be continuing to divide our time on both coasts, spending more time here. G’s mom is doing well. She’ll need help with the yard, but without having to worry about and be a nurse/maid to her ailing husband, she doesn’t need us as much.
Our work is here. Our life is here.
So luckily this has all played out perfectly.
For now, I’ll go back to work, doing things I love doing, (plus happen to be freakishly good at).
Some days, I may have wished for a little boredom, in hindsight, I’m glad for all the twists and turns.
I’m a little surprised that I’m still here on planet earth. I have no plan, no mission, no big needs. I used to. But it didn’t go at all like I thought I wanted it to.
In my young mind, I wanted a home that I stayed in forever. Yep, that was me, searching wanting, hoping for a forever home. I bought a couple and loved them, until a twist or a turn came along.
As a grown up kid who moved a lot, I wanted my kids to go to the same schools with the same friends all the way through. I did achieve that, but by the skin of my teeth. Then I learned that kids change, so their friends change even if they are surrounded by the same kids. Also I learned, within that model a million things can happen. I thought I was clear in my desire to lead a regular life, but apparently there was a different plan in place.
Which I don’t regret now. I followed the bread crumbs. I showed up, I worked, I made impossible things happen.
I’m still far from a regular life, only now, I secretly like it. I think I do anyway. I feel lucky every day.
My values continue to change and shift which I’m glad for. I can’t imagine still using a casserole dish I got for my wedding, or living with decor I chose in the 80s, or believing everything I did or doing the same things I did when I was 20 or 30. (or some slightly modified versions because I got to stay put) I’m completely thankful for all the choices I’ve had to make over the years. The crazy plot shifting changes have made all the difference.
Another good starting line might be: “No one has ever suggested that I was an old soul.” I like this one better, if God forbid, I write an autobiography…
Swan Song 96×48 Italian Mineral paint on board $4800 SOLD
There is a swan near our cottage back east. It hangs out in this one little cove that we pass by as we drive into the neighborhood.
Two Christmases ago he visited our dock. Strangest Christmas present ever. As I got closer, he swam closer. I thought he wanted to be fed so I ran up to the house for bread. When I got back, G said he had left. Then he saw me and turned around! Crazy, but true!
I have video of him swimming to me, getting so close I could almost touch him. He wasn’t interested in the bread. What a funny little miracle he was on that cold Christmas morning.
I still don’t know what our meeting was about. I’ll never forget the day though, and neither will G.
We then started seeing him all the time, but never near our dock again. Sometimes we take our boat to the cove to see if he’s there.
I wasn’t expecting to paint a single giant swan, anymore than I expected to see one swim up to me. He emerged little by little as I painted. They really are huge, elegant birds. There’s no telling why he thought he knew me that day. Or why I painted him, before we even met…
Peace Kit 