And now, I’ll explain the gift that came to me this afternoon (relating to geese!), and I’ll share my gift with YOU. Yesterday I talked about how I needed to do strenuous landscaping in a hurry so that we don’t get fined for not having the property edged, trimmed, etc. It was a heavy job because we have had alternating extreme heat and tropical rains, a combination that makes it difficult to keep up with the lawn care while at the same time making invasive plants grow like crazy, very quickly.
My husband is scheduled to work long hours, so it was up to me to get it all done. My oldest daughter was available to help and the two of us did a mammoth job. I was a bit sulky and resentful because I didn’t think the tone in the email from the property manager was called for, nor was the threat of a fine upon very first notice of this necessary. We have never had any violations before, always pay our bills on time, and are never a problem for anyone. I think the courtesy of a notice that simply asks us to do it would have been sufficient instead of going straight to “you have a violation” and if we don’t fix it before the deadline we will have further violations and fines. Good grief, it’s just a yard! Stuff grows, then you cut it. We caused no property damage, and this urgency is ridiculous.
So the past two days my daughter and I have worked together to cut and remove branches, trim hedges, clear weeds, and edge the sidewalks. We probably overreacted and did more than what was expected, but I didn’t want any more problems. I try to do MORE than expected in everything I do. We cleared all of our things off from the cement surfaces and swept everything. We bagged up the debris. All of this, and my daughter never complained. Instead she said, “I really enjoyed working with you.” And I realized, I really enjoyed working with her too.
Now, for the thing that made the experience surreal and magical:
The entire time we were working today, under gorgeous sunny skies, there was a flock of geese enjoying an afternoon with us! The serenity energy of these large beautiful birds created peace, and reversed the feeling of being judged, punished and treated unfairly, (as a pattern in life, not just this specific landscaping situation); unmerciful when I commit the smallest offense, when I’m already trying as hard as I can to balance all the challenges that come my way… No. Even when people don’t extend grace to us, God always does. I had a rare cool morning to do the heaviest labor, and a warm pretty day for the lighter load. And that’s when the geese shared the afternoon with us. These are wonderful things!
Before I show you your gift, I want to talk about perspective. There was a woman who showed up, a frequent trespasser whose family treats the property behind our row of houses (the area by the lagoon, which none of us own, and is restricted) as her personal park, even though there are “no trespassing” signs and she doesn’t live in one of the houses on our row. She’s an annoying rude person who is obnoxious, yells and then ignores her child, drives off-road vehicles through the property, brazenly fishes with her family even though that is not allowed, and so on, sometimes for hours, late at night, and even on holidays like Christmas and Easter. So all of us who live on this row are forced to see her and her rude family spread out doing whatever they like, as the sole view from our back patio windows, the only windows we have on that side of the house. In other words, there is no escaping seeing this awful group (sometimes they bring friends as well!) spread out having their own loud gathering. I’d report her if it felt like the the thing to do, but it doesn’t. It feels like I should simply close the curtains and ignore what they do. So, that’s what I do.
Well, she was sitting there on the bank near the geese for part of the time we were working outside. She was looking at and then yakking on her phone the entire time. Why bother going to a scenic place if you’re just going to look down at your phone? Did she even see the geese? She eventually left, with the phone still on her ear.
Another woman was outside, a neighbor. She was apparently alarmed by the large flock of geese getting too close to her yard. She sprayed them with a hose and yelled at them. Then she went inside. So, I guess she didn’t see what I saw. The thing is, these are migratory geese. They won’t stay long. We can choose to appreciate their beauty or not.
There are many bad things happening in the world today. And on a personal level, we all have challenges that are large, and small ones like my manic race to get the landscaping work caught up. So when we see something beautiful, that literally lands in front of us, it is a gift. It was a gift for me, and now a gift for you. I video taped what I saw and dropped music in. And now it’s like you were with me, seeing this too. Enjoy, and God bless you.
Watch this oil painting from the children’s book “Grandpa Smiles” come to life in just over 1 minute (time lapse)
I painted this art for a children’s book about how my dad has looked over my son in spirit all of his life. I talked quite a bit about my dad in yesterday’s blog post. Tonight I’m feeling weary. I was forced to do a lot of strenuous landscaping work because we got a “violation” on our inspection. It’s been very hot here, and when it’s not been hot (and buggy), it’s been raining tropical downpours that leave everything soaked. I tried to catch up with things before the inspection, but I got bit and stung by a swarm of ants and had an allergic reaction that put me out of commission for days. I’m still not 100%. But, I managed to get about half of the toughest landscaping jobs done. I know I can finish it before the deadline and avoid getting a fine.
So anyway, it’s been a tiring day and I’m going to make today’s blog post very short. Goodnight, dear friends.
My oil painting of my daughter reading in the butterfly garden… this one doesn’t have a video because I painted this before I started filming my sessions. It was the first oil painting I ever did, and it’s what started a whole new life. I painted it after my husband bought me a floor easel for Christmas and I didn’t want to let him down by not using it. I saw an ad for a “Call for Artists” in a juried competition. I followed the exhibition rules and painted this art. It was accepted!
This painting went on a 14 month tour (I only went to one of the showings and I lost track of where the painting went, but it was safely returned to me at the end of the tour and I’m saving it for my daughter to keep). Shortly after this we had to sell the hobby farm with the butterfly garden he’d planted for me, as my husband was losing his job because the company he worked for was moving out of the country, ghosting the nearby small town (I have shared about this already in previous blog posts). I directed a small private arts (dance, theater, drawing, etc.) school from my home studio, so when we sold the house I lost my job too. Anyway, that’s the condensed version of the story of this art. I’m using it for this blog post because it’s how my vocation as an oil painter began… sort of.
As with anyone’s journey, it can be hard to define the exact starting point of easing into one’s purpose. I was “born” artistic and would always draw. It was my language. My dad was an artist and the family would gather in fascination to watch his funny doodles. He mostly did comic type characters just for fun, but sometimes he was paid in odd jobs on the side to illustrate otherwise boring managerial manuals with one-panel comics. He also did some sign painting, and plenty of projects for the family. So, it was never a big deal that I was artistic and creative. I was just my dad’s daughter and it was unsurprising, even expected it seemed.
But, how this was going to translate into a life’s purpose was never decided. Before dad died, he made me promise that I’d go to college one day. He was only 37 when he lost his long battle with cancer, after serving two tours in the Vietnam War. I have mentioned Dad a lot, as he was a big influence in my life and he continues to impact how I think about the world even though he’s been gone for many years. Saying this just reminded me of something that shocked me at one of my author events. One of the many reasons why I hated being an author! Here’s what happened:
I was booked to make an inspirational presentation to college students. I gave a speech that was around 45 minutes long that I had put a lot of time, planning, preparation, effort, empathy and enthusiasm into. I sincerely wanted to make a difference and connect with the students in a meaningful way that might inspire them into the future. In exchange, I would have an opportunity to promote my books at the end. I wasn’t expecting much to come of this, and I know that students don’t usually have spare cash, and when they do, they don’t generally choose to spend it on books that they aren’t forced to read in class, so I donated the books to the students. I preferred that they have my books than to have them walk away empty handed.
It’s a good marketing decision to give books (or other types of work) away when word of mouth might help you get more work in the future. So, I was fine with this plan. However, I did expect to at least talk with the students about my work. But right after we took a group photo, an obnoxious woman- a professor who dropped by and interrupted my speech a couple of times- set up a table of her own and lined up HER art! Wow, that was quite brazen. She then plugged her work and hijacked my event. She was a loud brassy large woman and I don’t fight for the spotlight. I stayed for a short while and when I realized that the host wasn’t going to stop this woman from using up the remainder of the time, I made my goodbyes and left.
Can you imagine the audacity of this woman, to have packed her art (wooden folk art figurines from what I recall, I think animals), and then just set it all up as soon as I finished the long, comprehensive inspirational speech for the students. Wow. Not just tacky and advantageous, but extremely rude! So, you know this woman now and you’ll be able to imagine the scene that shocked me. Picture her sitting (as a large older woman) among the quiet courteous students (young small college girls, timid), who seemed to be at rapt attention, while she’s belting out disruptive statements or questions from time to time.
I was attempting to inspire the students to never give up, even when life doesn’t go as planned and things like grief interrupt our dreams. I talked about my father’s death and I mentioned that he didn’t live to see me grow up and never met my husband or my children. The horribly rude woman piped up with this: “You never knew him either. He died as a young man.”
I felt like I stood there for an eternity with my mouth hanging open and my eyes bugging out. That’s not true. I looked cool, calm, and composed. I was in my professional public speaking mode and I was patiently friendly in my response, as I do when I don’t like some heckling troll at an event. I was “handling” her to end the conversation swiftly and get back into my speech before she destroyed what I was trying to accomplish for the students.
But after the event was over, and long afterward, her words came back to me. I had never thought about this before, that I never knew my father. I decided that she was wrong, and how DARE she suggest it! I did know my father. I knew the core of his spirit, the kind of man he was. I didn’t need to see his future self that he was denied, because the type of person he was, was an inspiring and powerful spirit that was memorable to all who had known him. We DID know him. In fact, he was known by many more people than I knew.
It turns out that he was living a secret life that he didn’t tell us about. He helped people without ever saying a word. After his death, people sought me out, knowing I am his daughter, and wanted to tell me what he did for them and for others. I still recall what it was like to go to his memorial service, expecting to see mainly just the family there, but the place was packed! Who WERE all of these people mourning my dad?
I have many stories to share about Dad. He may not have lived long, but his spirit was known and he still inspires people to this day. He still inspires me, and through my stories about him, he inspires my husband and my kids. And you. Maybe he inspires you? Can you imagine being the kind of person who draws a crowd when you pass, because of the big impact you have on others?
Well, back to my story. I grew to greatly dislike my career as an author, and the events I was doing. There was a certain grubby competitiveness there, and in artist circles as well. I hated all of it. Whether it was the snooty circles in galleries and upscale conventions, or the rather trashy venues, or something in between, my experiences in that world were usually mixed at best, and miserable or even dangerous at the worst. On rare occasion I had a delightfully pleasant encounter and a real connection with the people I met. I remind myself of that whenever I need to consider a public event.
But, always lurking in my mind is the power that random strangers have of saying words that can’t be unheard. It’s uncanny that she came up with something that could shock me. I’m often a stoic person, rock solid. Not much throws me off. You could even say that while I’m hopeful and positive, it is with a survivor and work-hard thriver mindset, not idealism. I’m a realist, and some may consider me to be cynical. But, wow, she got me.
Because of her, I will think even more highly of my dad. He was truly an inspiring person, a person who many people knew. He was warm, generous, smart, talented, funny, humble, and most of all… kind. When we know these characteristics in a person, we may be inspired by them forever. Goodness outlives a person.
So, I don’t fear public speaking events and I look forward to the challenges and positive twist that the bullies and nasties throw at me, as well as the wonderful pleasant meetings. I was once scheduled at a book festival in a very small town. The irony is that the speaker at the top of the morning was a man who had reviewed my very first attempt at a mystery novel, very unfavorably. LOL, very. Sure, my book was quite horrible, but there was no reason to trash so viciously first-time work by an unknown author who was no competition to anyone and would certainly not go anywhere anyway. Besides, some people liked it. Just not that curmudgeon.
He’d published a scathing review in a major big city newspaper and mocked me for publishing the book myself, from what I recall anyway. I don’t actually remember the details after all this time. I’ve had a lot of critics. They all blur together after a while, especially when I’ve reached an age and place in my vocation when I don’t pay much attention to what they say. I’m going to keep producing new creative work. Can they say the same? Maybe, maybe not. I fail to see why diplomatic words couldn’t have been used to “warn” people that I’m garbage to read.
But, whatever, I had to go to the same event that he was attending as a fancy author and critic. Apparently we had the same agent (ugh!). I only had an agent for a brief time. My daughter had work of her own and had some success that paid for an agent we’d share. We did certain projects together as a mother/daughter team, so that’s how the agent thing briefly came about. We wanted to do more events. But this was scheduled just for me, as our agent would place only me for events that didn’t really work for the project that we did together (don’t worry, I always found a way to get my daughter included somehow, even if it had to wait until the ending meet and greet part). Anyway, so… I was temporarily stuck in a slightly bigger league with the man who declared me a failure before I even began.
I dreaded the thought that I might run into him, but I was quite certain that he wouldn’t recognize me or remember that review from so long ago. He’d probably burned many authors, who seemed to have been his competition- isn’t that a conflict of interest? Ah, a slimy industry this can be. So, I arrived there, and he was already gone! WHEW! I saw his unpleasant face on the posters, but didn’t have to see the actual man! Apparently he didn’t excite the small turnout of mostly women and children. He wasn’t a tough act to follow, and I knew my presentation would be fun, warm, and inspirational for the attendees. I started to look forward to the experience.
Suddenly the hostess rushed up to me and gaped at me, star struck. She gushed, “You look even more glamorous in person!” Well, I was so shocked by this, that I laughed. I still laugh whenever I recall that moment. I’m laughing right now while typing this. So, here was the polar opposite experience from the horrible woman who shocked me with an insensitive observation and bullish behavior that cut my event short. This time, I was treated like a celebrity princess, with great appreciation from all who attended. They even had a feast waiting for me and my family, in which it seemed their entire staff had gone overboard to impress. Sure, it was created with the hope that the town would turn out huge for their book festival (sadly they didn’t), but their enthusiasm wasn’t dimmed in the slightest. They were happy to see how grateful and truly jazzed we were with their presentation. Someone had even made minions with Twinkies!
This blog post has spiraled out of control and is much longer than I intended it to be. I really meant to write something short, but then I felt like I was talking to friends and my thoughts evolved. Point to all of this is… a bit of an update. I’m working on my new show. It will be another “live taping” show. And while I’m older and wiser and am in some ways excited about getting back into public events, for now I’m happy to have only you as my audience.
Work on the show has begun and I hope to step up my game to make each one better than the one before it. And since it’s a taping, no one can interrupt me with depressing revelations about my private life and grief, but… no one can tell me I’m glamorous and give me minions Twinkies either. Ah, I shall have to settle for bringing my own celebratory treats!
These days it feels like there is too much talking, not enough listening, and there’s an imbalance in action. Those who oppress and harm others are moving quickly. Those who wish to free and heal others are moving slowly. Lies are racing like white water rapids in a dangerous rushing river. Truth is flowing like molasses.
May the scales soon tip in the other direction, toward patience, empathy, and stillness; toward goodness and light; and let deceit fall away as truth shines for all to see. Stay strong and brave. This season will pass, no matter how long it may seem.
Watch this oil painting illustration for children’s book “Grandpa Smiles” come alive in under 2 minutes (time lapse)
This part of the book was inspired by when my son was in the hospital for surgery and his recovery. It was hard seeing my normally happy and active child so weak, sad, and listless. He is a college student now, healthy and sturdy.
Active people hate to be forced to slow down. That’s my status for today. Saturday I was pulling weeds and spraying the concrete with strong jets of water from the hose. I sprayed an ant nest and the tiny furious insects immediately swarmed my feet. I was wearing sandals, so even though I sprayed my feet off as quickly as I could, they had already stung and bit my exposed skin many times.
Here it is, two days later, and the itching and swelling are still miserably intense. My foot swelled so much that it feels funky to walk on it. I didn’t sleep well last night because of the interminable itching, despite creams and medicine, which only took the edge off. So, I’ve been forced to slow down, to ice my foot and give my body time to heal from this irritating development.
I hope to bounce back quickly, but for now, it’s difficult to sit in one position for too long as my foot swells and itches like crazy. No painting until I kick these allergic reactions to the ant bites, or until I find a way to paint with my foot elevated (if this ordeal goes on too long and I lose patience with it). I have already found a way to do dishes by propping my foot up on the counter while I use the sink. Good thing I was a dancer in another life.
Using this incident as a spiritual metaphor, there are times in our lives when something happens that forces us to slow down. Our normal busy thought patterns are disrupted. Our usual daily thoughts are put on hold. During such times, we become philosophical and reflective. We wonder, if our regular life can be stopped suddenly without our consent or warning, perhaps the things we do aren’t as important as we thought?
What do we miss doing when we are forced to slow down? What are we relieved to have an excuse not to do? How can we do more of the former and less of the latter? When we are forced to slow down, it’s an opportunity to re-evaluate how we live.
Watch this Irish Angel oil painting come to life in about 2 minutes (time lapse)
I thought this older painting would be a good one to re-share for this Sunday. It’s a shame that I painted my Irish Angel art before I got a better camera (that’s why the footage is dark and not HD). But, we can still see it, and the passage of time creates a bittersweet feeling that is somehow restful. I hope that you are able to find peace in this day and can reflect on how you want your week to go. God bless you and your family.
What we see and feel about art is highly individual, personal, and intimate. It’s always interesting to see what people respond to, and what they like. It’s even more intriguing when the work I don’t like is a favorite of others- like this yellow butterfly which I didn’t enjoy painting, even though I tried to and had a few fleeting moments that felt sort of like joy. And then I didn’t like the finished art either. I was frustrated by it and almost binned it.
But it ticked off a box for a project goal and it would have been foolish to dump it, and get behind schedule, just because I didn’t personally care for it. So, I was committed to it. Well, my daughter really liked this one. I suppose that’s not too surprising, since sometimes we have the exact same taste in something (and compete to grab it first!), and other times we are polar opposites.
Later, when I shared this painting, one of my customers said she really liked this one, as one of her favorite works I’ve done. REALLY? But why? The thing is, I can’t even say why I don’t like it. I don’t know why. I just don’t. And that intrigues me… it’s how I know I’ve made it as an artist. My art isn’t about me and as soon as I set my paintbrush down, it no longer belongs to just me. It doesn’t even matter if I personally don’t like my art or if I don’t connect with it. Someone else will, and it’s not up to me to decide which paintings they can connect with and which ones I don’t allow them to see. No, art as a vocation is a language that is shared without censorship, not even self-censorship.
Now, obviously if my painting fails to make a project goal at some point- which has never happened- then I can justify binning it. But I’m past the skill level for that to happen. I’m rather stuck with my projects if my only real issue is “I don’t like it”. I don’t have to like it. If I insist that all of my paintings must be to my personal taste, I’ll never reach my lifetime goal of 1k finished paintings, and I’ll also have a one-sided conversation. Sometimes others connected differently to art than I do. What I might see as a disappointment, another person may see as special. Why is my perspective superior to theirs? It isn’t.
This same philosophy can be applied to all human interactions and ways of communicating. We must be humble enough to lay down our impulse to be the arbitrator of what people should connect with or what they should hear, see, do, think, feel and believe. We are not all the same, but our needs are the same. We all need to be respected for who we are, given freedom to think as we wish, and an opportunity to reject or connect on a deeper level to things that we can’t explain.
You might remember when I first shared this one when I finished it in May? Hard to believe that summer has already come and gone since then. Here we are in September and I’ll be sharing my autumn related art soon, as well as new paintings (of various subjects) as I finish art for the 2022 collection. If you or someone in your household has gone back to school or college, the seasonal shift from summer to fall has probably already settled in. But, for many of us, the weather is still quite hot and summer-like.
We’ve now gone more than a year since the start of this dystopia we live under. I’m guessing that many of you were like me, and hoping that by summer this would be over. Then by summer’s end, surely. Yet, it is not over, and we must continue to focus positive energy on mind, body, and spiritual wellness for ourselves, our families, and humanity.
The girl on the tree swing captures what it feels like to be carefree, healthy, youthful, and positive. Having fun, feeling the wind on our faces, surrounded by nature, and enjoying light exercise are all a wonderful part of a balanced life. I was outside pulling up weeds before writing this blog. There’s something cathartic about ripping up weeds and pulling them out, making the space clean and clear once again. It’s not as fun as swinging in a tree swing, but it is light outdoor exercise.
Spending at least 15 minutes a day outside is one of the most positive and healthy habits we can develop. Longer is better, but aiming for the 15 daily minimum is good progress. A virtual existence and an indoor lifestyle is not healthy. We forget who we are when we lose touch with what it feels like to be carefree. Lift your face to the wind and remind yourself of who you are, every day.
First, my oil painting of a blue heron. I believe this is a “little” blue heron. 1 minute time lapse to watch me paint the art…
Next, see the funny and weird bird that I saw tonight. It looks like it might be a type of big heron. Make sure you see the ending. It was like a silent movie comedy show that the bird was starring in. I added music and voila! A star is born.
I shared my sunflower oil painting with you before (2 minute time-lapse video above to watch me paint this). Well, now I have my own sunflowers growing on the patio. I planted them from seed and they are now in bloom. See what happened today when I noticed a cardinal near my new sunflowers and I thought it would make a pretty picture. Have you ever seen a cardinal in a swing before?
You might remember that this swing was marketed for hummingbirds, and that’s why we bought it (I shared a hummingbird in swing video on a previous blog post). But the juvenile cardinals like it too! It’s so fun to watch them play and swing, and this time I finally was quick enough to capture it with both still photography (the first part of the video), and then I switched over to video mode, but he was nearly done by then. I was amazed at how long he was swinging. He seems to like the attention and looks for me!
