Thoughts for a muddled time in my life....
I’m not sure what’s going on with my brain lately, but it’s been busy lately. And not in a good way.
I’ve been waking up earlier and earlier, absolutely engulfed with thoughts of remorse, regret, recrimination. Everything I’m doing wrong, everything I’m not doing, everything I have to do. It’s like what mental discipline I’ve been able to muster in the past is completely gone, and my thoughts are running rampant.
Last night, in the midst of one of these attacks, I distinctly felt my heart LEAP violently, and the word “NO!” burst out. I jerked completely awake, heart pounding, wondering what was going on. What was I saying "no" to??
I had a real artist date this morning; my artist friend Lee called to show me his latest work (which hadn’t worked out, so he was depressed) and I invited him over for coffee. He wanted to draw my portrait, so I decided to write my morning pages as he sketched.
With the ease of computers and the internet, it gets harder and harder to handwrite these morning pages. But the insights gained are so important, so different than when I type…
I began to write about the distractions and things to do that have been keeping me from doing my artwork. Was that what the mighty "no" was talking to? I already say “no” to so many distractions in my life. Why do I have to start saying “no” to the FUN things I love doing? The projects for Lark Books, a piece for a special exhibit on “love” for a favorite gallery, an “art table” for a local coffee house—I don’t want to say no to these! My art began to look very boring and constrictive, like a bad marriage.
And yet... my artwork is the core of everything else I do. It is the unified field theory that holds my artistic energy together. It’s the solid place I stand, the “original oak” from which all other artistic acorns grow. How could I be bored with it?
“Well,” said Lee, when I shared this thought with him, “When my brother got older, he ate only steak and chicken, and then he died of cancer of the rear end.” (I’ve never heard a nicer euphemism for colon cancer….) “You can’t live on a steady diet of steak and chicken….”
So even Lee, who lives for his art and creates constantly, was saying pure pursuit of your highest art can't really be everything.
That’s when it dawned on me that the voices in my head were not REALITY. Not MY reality. That was why my heart yelled “NO!” loud enough to wake me. My heart knows our reality is the one we choose. And I’ve been letting my head choose lately, instead of my heart.
There is an ebb and flow to my artwork. And evidently, I’m in an ebb period. I thought I had to clear the room to make room for it. In reality, it's already there, waiting. Waiting for the well to fill again.
What I need is not a clean studio to work, or a more organized life. When I clean my studio, I want to keep it clean. I don't want it to get messy making stuff again.
What HAS worked for me in the past is a deadline. Give me an important deadline and I will bust my buns to meet it. I need to create an opportunity, a commitment to something that demands a body of work. I have enough samples to shop around a show proposal, and an exhibit for 2007 or 2008 would do the trick....
The smaller projects are not distractions. They are reminders to myself of who I am, who I have been and what I will be again. They are my own little “postcards from the edge”, the promise and assurance that my greater work will emerge again.
I referred in an earlier blog about a new biography of Mother Theresa, how she heard God’s voice clearly telling her to serve the sick and dying. For the rest of her life, she listened hard, but never heard Him again. She was despondent and depressed, wondering why He would not speak to her again.
I said to Lee, “The Bible must have been written by people who told stories or sang, people who understood the world by what they heard, or through music. God always speaks, and we always sing his praises.” Lee said, “There’s a famous picture of Elijah, and he has his hand to his ear, listening to God.”
“But we’re artists, we’re visual people,” I said. “We want to SEE the hand of God. What if he sends messages that sometimes people cannot read?” Lee said, “Well, it’s pretty dangerous to HEAR voices….That means you’re schizophrenic!” Lee should know, as he is mentally ill. I believe him that HEARING God SHOULD be a rare occurrence.
What if God DID communicate to Mother Theresa, but she was listening for Him, not looking for the work of His hand? What if she simply could not see the message He sent her? That would be sad, but not as sad as the thought that He never took time to speak to her again….
Tonight, when my brain rants again, I won’t have to listen. I will think of my affirmations, the ones I wrote to create a new reality for myself seven years ago. I continue to write new ones, affirmations that will allow me to hope and dream and work again on my art. ALL my art, not just the “steak and chicken” art. My affirmation for tonight is, “I hear ALL songs of hope.” I’m not sure what it means. As I wrote this morning, it just came to me.
But I trust it, because it came from my heart, not my head.
