The Artist Inside

The Artist in You

“Inside you there’s an artist you don’t know about. Say yes quickly, if you know, if you’ve known it from before the beginning of the universe.” Jalai Ud-Din Rumi

There’s a homeless man who lives somewhere nearby—by the train tracks, or under an overpass. He’s the kind of homeless person one never sees at the shelter, even when the weather is cold. He pushes a shopping cart filled with stuff he’s found. Everything about him is charcoal gray; his hair, his clothing, his skin, the contents of the shopping cart. I watch him as I drive by in my car, always walking at the same slow pace, sometimes feeding the pigeons on the corner by the Piggly Wiggly. Winter or summer, he’s wearing the same gray rags. There are countless other people on the street; joggers, dog-walkers, the Altamont track team loping along. I see them, but they don’t hold my attention the way that silent, gray presence does. He’s made an impression in my brain, so much so that when I see that color in another context, I think ‘there he is.’

There is an artist in every one of us. In the way that we dress each day, in the little personal tweaks we give to our appearance, in the sweep of hair, color of eyes. The ‘gray man’ is no exception. He casts a one-of-a-kind shadow on the landscape, instantly recognizable as himself alone. Most of us have a hard time thinking of ourselves as artists—that’s a title reserved for folks who create symphonies, have paintings in the Louvre, or act on Broadway. We think of ourselves as ordinary. And yet, we get up each day, make choices that speak to our uniqueness, and go out into the day as the only ‘me’ there is. We leave our own indelible mark on the world.

Today, as you are bathing, dressing, brushing, think, ‘the artist in me is painting a picture of my oneness, my singularity, and that painting is distinctive and beautiful.’ Give yourself a little touch of class that others will recognize as your perfect expression of you. You are an artist—claim it.

Uniquely yours,
Jane

Balancing Act

Bringing Harmony Back to Life

“Happiness is not a mater of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony.”          Thomas Merton

         When my children were small, I put them to bed at eight o’clock, no exceptions. We would read for twenty or thirty minutes and then, lights out. Both of them needed long hours of sleep and I needed a couple of hours of quiet before bed. Staying in balance requires that we have rhythm and regularity to our lives.

         In thinking about simplifying life, this is the first and best way to begin—by brining a predictable rhythm to our days. I know it sounds boring, and I’m not suggesting that we never have a late night, or respond spontaneously to an urge. But for most of us, most of the time, a predictable rhythm is necessary to staying healthy. The need for balance is not just a human need; it’s built into the natural world. Day to night, season to season, month to month, regularity is the order of the day. Excess over time causes problems. Think of the consequences of this warmer-than-normal winter—in the south it will mean that fruit trees bloom too early and risk a snap freeze, bugs will be rampant in our summer gardens; in the north, lack of snow melt may result in water shortages and summer drought.

         Part of bringing order to our lives is learning to say ‘no’. No, I will not plan late night outings during the work week; no, I will not volunteer for that project that will eliminate my weekend; no, I will not watch one more hour of TV. No. It’s a hard word for busy, frazzled Americans. No wonder we’re so, well, busy and frazzled. Saying ‘no’ is a second step toward a happy and harmonious life.

         Today would be a good day to look at the rhythm of your life. Is it out of kilter? Is it bringing you into balance and harmony? How would you like to tweak your days to allow for adequate rest and the perfect amount of stimulation? In the words of Maya Angelou, “everything has rhythm, everything dances.” Find you perfect rhythm today and start stepping to it. You’ll be glad you did.

                                  In the flow,

                                  Jane

                                 

        

Claiming Personal Space

Techno-Crazy

“The world is too much with us. Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.”

                          William Wordsworth

         I had a conversation with some friends recently in which one said, ‘I can waste the whole afternoon playing cards on my computer.’ The other said, ‘Oh, me too, have you seen the new Solitaire?’ I’ve heard numerous interviews in the last week about the devious tricks Facebook employs to keep us glued to our profile page while they collect information about us and about anyone that we post to or ‘like’. Facebook is prying into our personal lives to assess our interests in order to send targeted advertisements our way. One man actually sued to get all the information the site had gathered on him; all 2200 pages of it!

         Today’s technology is wonderful; don’t get me wrong. I love posting this blog, emailing just about everybody I know and texting with my sons. I am not saying we should get rid of any of it. What I am wondering is whether we are allowing it to replace real relationships. When we can interact with literally millions of people on-line, why bother to nurture flesh and blood relationships. How much does technology simply ‘occupy’ us and interfere with real interaction and productivity.

         I know I sound like the Chinese government, but I do think it is worth our consideration as to whether we spend too much of our precious time clicking away with our mouse or tapping a keyboard. One of the things I notice about myself is how lost I feel without my cell phone. I come very close to ‘panic mode’ when I realize I’ve left my phone at home, or don’t know where it is. I am so distracted by that little gong-sound that I will interrupt a conversation or leave a meeting in order to check incoming messages. When I really think about it, I realize how completely nutty this behavior is.

         For the next few weeks, I will conduct a self-experiment in weaning myself off my addiction to technology. I will spend less time checking messages and more speaking directly to friends and loved ones. I will turn my cell phone off during human interactions and when I am working. I will allow myself privacy and uninterrupted access to…myself! I will write the blog as always, but then I will shut my laptop down until I have finished my work for the day. So…please, leave me a message…I’ll get back to you.

                                   Hooked in Alabama,

                                   Jane

Clearing the Clutter

Simplifying Life

“…what we cling to says a lot about the state of our souls.”  Paula Houston

         My girl-cousin, Sandy, is cleaning out her closets. Her house is on the market and she is trying, little by little, to clear out everything she doesn’t use and doesn’t need. She called me this week to say she’s mailing a box of clothes to me. Of course, for someone who hates to shop, this is a windfall of good fortune. Sandy gets clean closets, and I get new clothes—win-win!

         As a quilter, I’m a hoarder of fabric. My son, Ian, brings old clothes to me from estates he’s clearing out—things that have been stored in other people’s attics, basements and closets for decades. Most of it is unusable. Fabric, like almost everything else, rots with time, especially when exposed to moisture and temperature extremes. I always feel a little sad when I see precious children’s clothes and shoes, which have been lovingly and carefully packed away, fall apart when I take them out of the box.

         It’s a good idea to make time to clear the clutter. I tend to stack anything that I’m not ready to use, recycle or throw away. After a while, I have stacks of stuff everywhere I look. I find that when my house is cluttered, so is my mind. I have difficulty concentrating. Not only that, but I can’t finding things I need because they are buried in the mess. Then I waste time sorting through ‘stuff’, while feeling frustrated and irritable. It’s not a pretty picture.

         The liturgical season of Lent, which stretches from Ash Wednesday (Feb. 22) until Easter (April 8), is an excellent season for clearing out the clutter—both in our surroundings and in our minds. I have found that if I do one small task each day—something as simple as cleaning out a junk drawer—I can make a significant dent in my mess by Easter. So this year, I will undertake a ‘Lenten Simplification’ project. I will no doubt be writing about it, so I invite you to join me. My motto: “Less is more!”

                                  Staying on track,

                                  Jane

Setting the Sails

Any Way the Wind Blows

“It is the set of the sails, not the direction of the wind that determines which way we go.”             Jim Rohn

         A strong wind is blowing from the south-east this morning. The wind-chimes on my porch sound more like a metalwork shop than music. Until the ‘year of the tornadoes’, I loved the wind—loved to stand in it and feel its strength and power. I remember my grandmother telling me, ‘when the leaves on the trees turn upside down, expect rain’. This morning, the sky is an eerie white and that stiff wind is blowing from the wrong direction; can’t be a good sign.

         Like everything else, wind is a metaphor for many other things in our lives. A soft, sweet zephyr is welcome, dreamy and romantic; adversity is portrayed as a strong wind, and a good, stiff breeze will fill our sails and take us quickly to our destination. I well remember the winds that blew down the channels of skyscrapers in New York; wind that turned an umbrella inside-out in seconds, and then blew horizontal rain into your face. I also remember the wind that blew through our botanical gardens a few years back and snapped all the trees off about twenty feet up. They looked like stumps in a giant’s field. Wind can behave like a scorned woman, throwing dishes, breaking the china.

         Sailors will tell you that a stiff wind is best of all; it means you have to pay attention, manage the sails and the rudder, and be prepared to hang your butt off the side to keep the boat upright, but the speed is pure joy. I don’t know about that butt-hanging part, but I get the speed delight. The lesson here is in managing the sails and the rudder. Once at Block Island, a family cousin took a small sailboat out alone—always a bad idea. We watched from a cliff above the Atlantic as a squall line formed in the north-east. The wind came up quickly, tangled the rigging and capsized the boat. Detachable parts floated up and thankfully, so did the cousin, but then she had to be rescued in a flailing sea in the midst of a squall. There’s a clue in there somewhere.

        

         Strong winds will blow through our lives, no doubt about it. Keeping a clear head, managing the sails and the rudder, and having a good friend close by will help us to weather the storm. Any sea-change can be managed when we know we’re not in it alone.

                                  Keeping it real,

                                  Jane

                         

                 

Slipping the Net

The Voyage of Discovery

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”          Marcel Proust

         Many years ago, I was on retreat at a desert oasis in the Mojave. The retreat site was a ranch high up on the side of a mountain, at about 9,000 feet, so you could see for miles and miles. A natural spring further up the mountain allowed the resourceful people at the center to give the plants in their orchard precisely the right amount of water to keep them thriving in the desert. The whole idea of an orchard in the desert was astounding for a green-mountain girl from Carolina, but the fruit in that orchard was enormous, and copious. The trees were draped with nets to keep the abundant wildlife out; the nets staked down to the ground. Everyday I went to the orchard to sit and write in my journal. One day I discovered a small bird, a partridge, inside one of the trees. Somehow she had wriggled her way under the net to get at the luscious peaches on the tree, and now she was trapped. I pulled the net loose from its mooring, and lifted it up to free her, but she hopped to the other side of the tree. I tucked the net up on that side, went to the other side and tried to shoo her toward the opening. At every turn, she hopped away and only after lifting the net on three sides did I manage to free the bird. How reluctant she was to leave those sweet peaches even if it meant living in captivity!

         We humans are not so different. We will almost always choose the devil we know rather than taking a risk on the one we don’t. Sometimes we will stay in a relationship, or a job, or a place that is confining and death-dealing rather than risking life on our own. Change is hard, and as much as we champion freedom, freedom can also be terrifying. Out there, I would have to fend for myself; I would not have the safety-net of the known. It is too risky. Sometimes we engage in magical thinking. If I could just get out of this job, or this relationship, or this place, everything would be perfect, the sky would be the limit. Both positions are equally misleading.

         Life is risky. We can choose to play it safe and limit ourselves, or we can choose to slip the net and fly out into the unknown. Either choice involves risk. Embracing the fact that life is a great mystery is the only path that leads to freedom. Trust in yourself is the key that opens the door.

                                  In the spirit,

                                  Jane

        

Finding our Truth

High Expectations

“We may pass violets looking for roses. We may pass contentment looking for victory.”

                                        Bern Williams

When I was a little girl, my mother wanted me to behave like the kind of girl she was—pretty and prissy and feminine. My father, a man’s man and engineer, thought I should make high grades in math and aspire to law school. Needless to say, I didn’t live up to the expectations of either. I was a tom-boy who flunked algebra. Their disappointment weighed on me as grew up; I felt ‘less-than’, somehow slow and gawky. The real abilities that I did have, in literature, in art, were tolerated, but not deemed especially valuable assets. My parents were not bad people. They were doing what all parents do; pushing their child to achieve. They had high expectations of me; particular expectations based on their own world view, and were disappointed when I didn’t live up to them.

It is natural and normal to have high aspirations for ourselves, our children, and others. But it is a good idea to examine our expectations now and then. Becoming aware of your child’s innate gifts and talents and supporting those is critical to their adult success. Typically, children will show their unique proclivities early in life, as toddlers. I remember my son, Jake, drawing murals on his bedroom wall at two. He couldn’t get enough of coloring and creating. The other son, Ian, was a people-person from birth. He never knew a stranger and had no idea that children were supposed to be seen and not heard. Children come here whole. It is our duty as parents, teachers and coaches to preserve and encourage that wholeness.

Likewise, we should encourage our own wholeness by examining our expectations of ourselves. Are they realistic? Are they in line with our true abilities and our heart-sense? If not, how would they need to change? Having high expectations of ourselves is one thing, having unrealistic expectations is quite another. One is life giving, and the other harms our sense of self. The 'good life' is all about balance and living our truth.

                              Blessings,

                              Jane