For the past month or so I’ve been taking Michele Bergh’s class on creating e-courses. It’s been an eye opening experience for me.
A heart opening one as well.
Because Michele has encouraged brainstorming. Mind mapping. Thinking about what we want to teach and why we want to teach it. And planning how to go about doing it.
Originally I thought I’d teach art classes…because hey, that’s what I do. And I probably will teach some. But I realize now I want to teach more.
Much more.
I want to give people the tools they need, the inner tools, to empower them to live a rich and creative LIFE. To wake up each day with a sense of excitement for what the day will bring. To understand the power of choice. Intention. Purpose.
To know it’s up to them. And excuses are just that…excuses.
To know the joy that I feel as I create the life I want. Because being happy feels so damn good!
It wasn’t always this way. I had to earn my PollyAnna stripes. For years I put my dreams on hold as I raised my kids. And then it was time to take care of my elderly mother. And I don’t regret doing any of that.
But there was always the undercurrent of frustration. Creativity unfulfilled. The novels unwritten. The blank canvasses. Coulda. Shoulda. Woulda. I told myself it was because I didn’t have the time.
But mostly it was because I didn’t have the passion.
Mama died last spring, just before her 96th birthday. A few weeks later, my dog. Nursing both my old ladies through their final months, weeks, hours left me numb. Left me empty. Left me questioning the purpose of living if dying was all there was to look forward to.
And then I started painting again. Painting painting painting painting PAINTING. Making marks.Throwing color on canvas, plaster on board. Scraping, scrubbing, sanding, creating things from a place inside that I never knew existed. For the first time in my life, even though I had an art degree and worked as an illustrator and art teacher, for the first time in my life I KNEW what it was to be an ARTIST.
I began waking up happy. Began embracing the passion of a new beginning. Of possibilities. Of living my dreams. At an age when my peers are counting the years before they can retire, I started nurturing plans for a whole new career. I taught myself WordPress, built a couple of websites. I’m painting, blogging, creating community, selling my work.
I’m saying YES! to life. Greeting each day with the excitement of what I can do to move my plans forward.
I’m living my life with the power of passion. As Martha would say, “It’s a good thing.”
I was at work the other day, eating lunch in the staff room with a couple of co-workers. One of them, Laura, was telling us about a breakthrough riding lesson she’d had the day before. Laura’s no novice when it comes to horses, she’s an accomplished rider as well as a trainer.
Whoa, wait up. Time out. This is an ART blog. What does a riding lesson have to do with painting?
EVERYTHING. Because as Laura was telling her story, talking about the AHA! moment that took her from one level of horsemanship to the next, I sat there with a great big lightbulb going off in my head. 300 watts of high intensity Arty Life brilliance!
KA-BOIiiiiiiiiiNG!!! (that’s supposed to sound like a cartoon spring)
So here’s what I remember about Laura’s lesson. She’s in an arena with a handful of other riders. At one end of the arena were horses being worked on the ground. Distraction. None of the horses being ridden wore bridles. No reins for the riders. Just a hank of mane to hang on to. Well hey, riding without a bridle is impressive but on a scale of 1-10 it’s not like it’s a 12 or anything. You ride with your body. Seat, legs, weight, balance. Reins are like a telephone line, another means of communicating with your horse. Communicating, not controlling. Because when it comes right down to it, the ponies got you beat hands down when it comes to size and strength.
The thing that took this lesson out the the ordinary was the riders weren’t giving direction to their horses. They were just along for the ride, so to speak, letting the horses move about however they pleased amid all the other distractions in the arena. The object being to ride through whatever craziness that might come up.
Which of course it did. Because horses are curious. And reactive. As in holy crap!!! I only came over here to say hello and now she’s going to kick me and so I spinnnnnn around until my brain flies out my ears and then I must runnnnnnnn for my life! And runnnnnnn some more! And keep runnnnnnning because I’m bat-shit crazy and I CAN!!!
When you’re on a horse that does the bat-shit crazy thing, your first inclination is to tighten up and fight against it. Try to control it with the size and strength you don’t have. The thought of broken bones is right there, front and center. Which just makes you tighter. And the situation more dangerous, deteriorating until it becomes one of those oh shit! situations.
But when Laura’s horse went into crazy-ass mode she remembered the object of the lesson and ahhhhhhhh...relaxed right into the fear. Consciously softened her body and rode it out. Not trying to control or direct anything, Just communicating to her horse with her body, a language he could understand, that there was nothing to be afraid of.
And. It. Worked.
AHA! Lightbulb moment here!!!
See where I’m going with this?
It’s just like riding the Wild Crazy ART PONY!
Wild Crazy ART PONY really, really wants you to relax. Because creativity can be a scary-ass thing. It can take you places you don’t want to go. Like scribbles. Or doodles. Or throwing paint, using those colors. Or making something NOT PERFECT.
Just perfectly INSPIRED. And perfectly AUTHENTIC.
But the natural inclination when faced with unbridled creativity is…to tighten up! To put on the brakes and say whooooa…look at that line, it’s the wrong color/shape/size. I need to paint over it, erase it, tear it up, start again. In other words…WORK IT TO DEATH.
Because we are afraid…it’s not good enough. It won’t sell. People will say unkind things.
And who am I to trust my inspiration?
Ohhhhhhhh…this is where I was going to say (in a kind, motherly fashion) You are an artist. Or writer. Dancer, teacher, whatever… I was going to be loving and gently remind you who you are.
But I’m not going to do that.
You see that wild art pony over there? Well, climb aboard. Go for a ride. And when things get crazy and you feel out of control and you want to tighten up and rein in thatfabulous, spectacular creativity…ahhhhhhh…remember the language of the wild pony. Relax. Lean into it instead. Let it take you where it needs to go.
And then you can tell SHOW me who you REALLY are.
Before you go, I want to share a short video with you that is one of the most inspiring, joyful, AWESOME displays of trust and communication between woman and horse that I’ve ever seen. I’ve had it on my desktop for the longest time, watching it at least once a day because it makes me feel THAT good.
So go ahead and watch it. Think of the Wild ART PONY. And be inspired.
Chocolate is calling to me. Not the good kind, the 88% full of anti-oxidents it’s-so-damn-healthy-you-can-eat-it-for-breakfast-and-you’re-happy-with-just-a-smidge-of-a-bit kind. Oh nooooooo, I’m hearing the seductive call of it’s evil twin, a well known brand of milk chocolate that tastes like…well, it tastes like my childhood. All sweet and sugary. Laden with fat and chock full of stuff that makes my inner nutritionist cringe. But that doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter at all because even if it glowed in the dark from radiation (and it might) what the hell…I WANT IT! And I WANT. IT. NOW!!!
I could eat a one pound bar All. By. Myself. In fact, I would go all ferrel and snap and snarl and growl threateningly at anyone who even looked at it, much less tried to take it away.
And after that, I would round out the day with potato chips. Salty yummy greasy crunchy chips. YAY!!! Let’s hear it for–
For what? Am I hungry? Umm…no. I just had lunch. A nice chicken tostada with extra guac and greens. To be perfectly honest (which I rarely am when it comes to food) there’s NO vacant real estate in belly land right now.
Then why do I feel the need to eat? Especially something loaded with sugar and fat and salt? Stuff that’s no good for me. That makes me hyper and tired all at the same time. That makes me look like I come from a long line of Sumo wrestlers.
WHY?
I’ll tell you why in a couple of minutes. But first go read a post I wrote back in February. Because even though I’m sounding desperate right now, I’m not. But I was back then.
Before I met AnaLisa Rutstein, MA CHHC. Before I took part in her Jump Start Program. Which was NOT a diet but six 45 minute one-on-one phone calls exploring and clarifying my issues around food. With handout and e-mail support.
That’s a whole lot of AHA! moments, believe me. A whole lot of getting back in touch with myself. Slowing down. Breathing. Meditating. Understanding the emotional triggers that send me scurrying to that bag of chips.
My emotional triggers? The biggest one…stress. But not stress like the car broke down or I had words with DearDaughter. The top hit on my personal Stress O’Meter…creativity. Or the insecurities I have surrounding my creative endeavors.
WTF??? Whack upside the head. My whole life is one big creative endeavor. Painting. Writing. Starting a biz…. No wonder my ass is so big.
Does this mean if I want to wear those skinny jeans again I’m going to chuck it all, get a 9-5 somewhere, a boring 9-5, and call it a day?
No. It means when I’m sitting at the computer searching for the exquisite turn of phrase, the perfect thing to say and I find myself getting all jittery and jumpy as a tweaker and I NEED to stuff my face with the bad bad bad bad BAD stuff so I don’t have toTHINK…it means I now have the tools to deal with that. Tools like BEING AWARE of what I’m doing. And why I’m doing it. So I can redirect myself by breathing, by acknowledging the emotion, by any number of little MINDFUL diversions.
The chocolate up there? The stuff I really, really wanted? I had some. But not a lot. It was a choice I made consciously. I didn’t have nearly as much as I would’ve six weeks ago. And honestly? If you’d come by and wanted some, that’d be okay. I wouldn’t have gone all ferrel on you.
I might’ve even shared.
Change of subject: Whoo-hoo! Over here! Be sure to check out my new FaceBook page. There’s art. New art every day. Imagine that!!! And if you click the ‘like’ button at the top of the FB page I will like you forever and be your BFF. Because I likes me those ‘likes’. So go ahead, do that RIGHT NOW because you wouldn’t want to forget or anything, right?
I’m in bed. Almost asleep. My body is exhausted. My brain fried. Been a long day and I’m TIRED. But I’m letting it all go. Breathing slow and deep. Melting into the mattress, sinking into the pillow. Slipping into the sweet surrender of total relaxation
And it feels soooo good.
I’m so close to almost asleep I might even be asleep.
And then…The. Stories. Come…. Ideas. Sheer brilliance, BRILLIANCE I tell you, as sentences write themselves. Twenty-four caret gold sentences dripping with gemstones of pure genius. And I think hot damn, I AM a writer. And I’m such a GREAT writer, I will remember this in the morning. Word for word.
Yes, I will…
Umm…you see where this is going, don’t you?
Uh-huh…a post so glorious, so stupendous, you would’ve dropped to your knees in awe. You would’ve (rightfully) annointed me the Queen O’ Blogland. You would’ve heaped upon me cyber praise which I would’ve graciously accepted.
Because it was that good. You’ll have to trust me.
