Sometimes a “major change” is simply many tiny changes in outlook.
For everyone who wrote me asking why I’m walking away from my art and writing, let me reassure you, I’m not!!!!!
I am at what my dear hubby calls “an inflection point”. I’d never heard of that before, except as a math term. But one dictionary describes it as
- 1.MATHEMATICSa point of a curve at which a change in the direction of curvature occurs.
- 2.US(in business) a time of significant change in a situation; a turning point.
That’s what it feels like. A “change” is coming, but I don’t know what it is.
What I do know is, my story hasn’t changed. I’m not done telling that story! And so my art itself, and my propensity for writing about my art (and what I’ve learned from making it), will not change.
I got lost in trying to pinpoint what was going to change. Stuck in trying to figure that out, because sitting with that has been hard.
Because when we choose not to move forward until we’re sure what that looks like, we lock ourselves into the present while fearing the future. (Perfectionism, thy name is “Luann”….!!)
I had fallen so low in my self-esteem in this flux state that I broke my own rule about giving away my work.
I don’t give my work away to people who expect it to be free, or those who demand I give it to them.
Such a simple rule, and I broke it. To the tune of agreeing to do free work worth thousands of dollars. And to be grateful to the person who said I should do it.
No worries, I walked it back! I’m only out $200, and I consider that a lesson I will never have to learn again. I hope!
I was in the middle of a health crisis (not life-threatening, but life-style threatening), a state of physical and emotional exhaustion, a state of living with uncertainty so long, I couldn’t see the gifts I already have: A home, a family, a loving partner, my health in general, the beauty of the California landscape and seascape, my studio, etc. I’ve been focusing on how close we are to losing many of these gifts, obsessed with security, and my struggle to control our future. (Ha!! Good luck with that, human!)
So I made a few more bad decisions.
But I also made some very, very good decisions.
Like reaching out to family, good friends, old friends, new friends, readers, supporters.
I reached out, and found people who listened, deeply.
I overcame my main worry, that I only reach out when I need help, others will judge me on my own selfishness (“She only calls when she’s stuck!”)–and found they were genuinely happy to help. Not only that, I found everyone was going through similar stuff, themselves. And they welcomed my help/feedback/support! (“Reciprocity” is a word that’s been resonating with me lately, and I was delighted to engage in it.)
They walked me back from the next bad decisions I’d made. And although I’ve been in a deep funk about who I am, they’ve been holding the memory of who I am, when I’m at my best.
And even better, they shared how much they love and respect me even when I’m at my worst.
Which gets me to where I am today: Tiny steps forward, and for the first time in months (many months!), holding a tiny bit of hope.
How I got there in a few hours yesterday is what I want to share with you today.
There’s an online class offered by Yale University, and anyone can take it if you can cough up $40. (And if you can’t, there are grants available!)
It’s called The Science of Well-Being, a class based on brain science and scientific evidence, developed and taught by Laurie Santos. It’s been in the news since the course wen’t online in March. It’s quickly become Yale’s most popular course.
The short story is, we don’t really know what we want. We don’t really know what will make us happy. And if we don’t understand what really will, or won’t, make us happy, then our pursuits in life won’t result in happiness.
The first video talked about “A ‘Good’ Job”. When you ask people what they want from a job, it’s often things like “a big salary” and “opportunities to advance”, and “prestige”, etc.
But it turns out those can be misleading goals that don’t necessarily make us happy in the long run. Yes, a livable income is important. But not at the expense of other goals that will actually improve how we feel about life. Like work that appeals to our strengths and values, work that challenges us in a good way, work that provides us opportunities to be “in the zone” or what is now called a “flow” state.
So how do we do that? How do we identify those unique strengths, our important values? How do we learn to nurture them those strengths and values? Because doing so will nurture us, will increase our sense of well-being and happiness.
This isn’t the old 90’s thing about “follow your bliss and the money will follow.” It’s more evidence-based, and doable. This class shows what works, and how to do it right.
After a few hours of work yesterday, I read something that gave me a glimmer of hope that I, too, can figure this out.
One evaluation survey showed that after taking the course, and implementing the (very simple) exercises, almost every student showed an average 30% increase in their sense of happiness. That’s nice.
But what blew my socks off was this statistic:
On average, every single student also reported a 70% DECREASE in depression.
Think about that.
We all know there’s no such thing as “happy all the time”, or a life filled with constant joy. I think we all shy away from anything that promises that. After all, I’m following my passion in life, and I still struggle with insecurity, a sense of not-doing-it-right, not being able to even pay for my studio rent with my art, and not being able to pay for much of anything from my writing. (A friend was gob-smacked when I told her how little I am paid for my one paid writing gig. And that’s just “the new normal” for free-lance writers.)
So “being happier” was something I’m always a little suspicious of.
And I already know some of the more obvious, popluar goals, like “make more money”, won’t fix everything–especially if I sacrifice integrity and what makes my work powerful. I know fame and celebrity can be a shadow goal, and potentially a self-destructive pursuit.
But the promise I could be less unhappy? Significantly less unhappy?? Bring it on!
That tiny ray of hope, the realization that things really could be better, inside, with a shift in perspective, was enough to raise my spirits.
And the way that happens–aligning key character traits and values with my life mission–is already giving me a wee bit of clarity of what that “inflection point” might be.
As always, I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
And in the meantime, I hope you check out the course, especially if you are also struggling with what would really make you happy!
How do you know when it’s time to move forward? When nothing else is possible.
If you follow my blog, you know I’m writing about a series of steps to create your own artist support group. It’s harder than I thought it would be, though I’ve done it many times. Even though I took the training not once, but twice.
I am obsessed with doing it right, hoping this “I’m not in the room to show you” approach will translate and transfer. I can’t stop thinking there’s someone out there who really needs to hear this today.
Today I finally realized that person is me.
I’ve been trapped in a whirlwind of my own emotions, my self-doubt, my inability to figure out what “the universe” is telling me. On top of the difficulties of melding with (relatively) new surroundings, trying to rebuild an audience for my art (and writing!), dealing with difficult family matters (I almost said family “members”, but have to remember they might describe me the same way!), I have been in a tsunami of allergy-related health issues. I am achey and ill-at-ease, exhausted, and I sleep round the clock. A friend said, “When allergies hit us, it feels like the universe is attacking our body.” True dat.
I’ve been reaching out to people who have had my back in the past. People who know me well. People who have seen me at my worst, and still love me. Unfortunately, when I look at how far back our conversations go, I can see that some started before we even left New Hampshire!
And slowly, slowly, I’ve realized, the universe isn’t trying to tell me something.
My heart is.
I’ve always struggled with “shaman”, just as I used to struggle with “artist”. The three aspects of a shaman are intriguing and feel right. Whether I am one or not, to go “in that general direction” just felt like the right path.
Artist. Teacher. Healer.
What about my training for those facets of who I am?
I claimed my story, and my art grew from there.
Teaching? It was one of my very first “aha!” moments, when I thought/realized I wanted to be a teacher. (Turns out I DO, and I AM, but not in our traditional idea of teaching. I share what I’ve learned in my writing, in workshops, and often in conversations with people who happen to cross my path. In a classroom, 8-4 every weekday?? For 8 months??? Not so much.)
Healing? My hospice training blew my heart up, in a good way. From sitting with clients, sitting with them, not “fixing” but simply being present. Then learning to sit with clients with Alzheimer’s, not “fixing” but simply being in THEIR moment, not mine. Then I moving on to creating and leading grief writing workshops: Helping people heal from deep and/or complicated grief and loss. (ALL under the guidance and supervision of trained professionals!) I learned, and I learned, and I learned.
But though people have urged me, I’ve always edged away from actual “coaching” coaching. It would seem like a natural “next step”, but it feels…wrong.
When I work with the wrong person, at the wrong time for them (and me!), before they are ready, before they are able, and when they are in my life for the wrong reasons, it ricochets badly.
And sometimes, I just get caught up in “I know better than you!” (I call it “triangulation”–“Let’s check in on these questionable people we both know, are they just goofy, or dangerous?” But some people call it, “Please mind your own business, I didn’t ask you!” OW!!)
I feel these efforts are always sketchy anyway–I don’t feel like a healer, though I believe my art heals me, and my art can sometimes heal others.
Lately, my “coaching” efforts have been a lot more than “less than”. They feel awful.
What it feels like: The minute I assume I know what I’m doing, it blows up in my face. And because I’m vulnerable in that role, it’s devastating.
It felt like the universe was saying, “Get over yourself!”
But today I realized there’s a gap in my training.
I need more training in healing/coaching.
I still reject the notion of this aspect of my life. It still feels wrong, it still feels uncomfortable.
I need more information on how to stay grounded. How to assess the situation. How to realize when to fold, the sooner the better! (I do have good instincts for self-protection, but sometimes they kick in too late.) How to tell when someone really is “ready”.
And to acknowledge that often, when it works at its best, there is reciprocity. Not money-wise. But every time it works beautifully, there is an exchange of energy. We both walk away better for the interaction.
Hard for me to describe. I’ll think about that.
So I share this with you today. It’s why I’ve been quieter than usual. Why I’ve made myself “smaller” instead of “bigger”.
I’m at another turning point in my life. I don’t know what it looks like, and I pretty sure I’m leaving art and writing behind. (How would I survive?!)
So today I start another trail of learning. My “next step”: Today I’m contacting someone I trust with my heart, to get a thought on how to move forward on this.
Today is another “life lesson”, just waiting to be learned.
When a tiny shift in your point-of-view makes a world of difference….
(4 min. read)
So yesterday was one of those days where nothing really went well.
First, I realized I’d missed going to the gym. I didn’t want to feel guilty, but I did. I’m really trying for three days a week, and I hated to miss a day my third week in. Dang!
I’m working on a commission order, a jewelry item that might appeal to a niche audience. Another artist suggested. It was not a hugely out-of-the-box thing, but the composition, the findings, how it works, all are new to me. I’d start down one path, check in with Mike, and regroup. Everything I assumed, was wrong. Argh!
Special orders and commissions make me nervous. It’s fine when someone sees something in my studio and loves it. Trying to make something and HOPING they’ll love it is a whole nother thing.
I’m participating in a wonderful show (with a tiny preview this Friday at Suzanne Edminster’s Saltworks Studio at Backstreet Gallery).
We were supposed to deliver a wall piece on Wednesday for this mini-preview. (As you can see, the show doesn’t “officially” open until the First Friday in May.)
I picked a piece that wasn’t really my best work, but it filled the definition of “wall piece”, a framed fiber fragment. I need to tweak it, though, and I really should reframe it. But I didn’t have time, and thought it would be okay.
I walked down to the studio at the agreed-upon hour and NOBODY WAS THERE. I knocked, I called two people, I snarked and barked, and grumbled all the way back to my studio.
And here’s the kicker, in case you hadn’t already guessed…..
It wasn’t Wednesday, gym day, delivery day.
It was Tuesday.
I called and emailed everyone to apologize re: the delivery issue. (I didn’t snark AT them, thank goodness, but I’d been THINKING snark. Gotta own that.)
So here I am, the REAL Wednesday.
I went to the gym.
I set aside the wall piece that was “good enough” and selected another piece, a wall-hung shrine, that I’m happier with. I made a few tweaks that made it even more powerful, and took them both for Suzanne to choose from. She agreed the shrine is the stronger piece, and she’s happy to have it.
Special orders? Yeah, they’re crazy-making. Still, I realize I need a challenge from time to time, to step outside my comfort zone. And half the time, something wonderfully new comes from that. I looked at my two “perfect” prototypes and realized there were some other options I could try. I ended up with five. I’m still not sure I’ve got it “right”, but at least he’ll have enough options to try, and give me good feedback on the prototypes….I hope!
I had a spare 40 minutes, and realized that was just enough time to sort, price, and photo a box of leather scraps I want to sell on my Etsy site. (I just add a destash section.) One more box removed from my cramped storage shed, and a slight load off my mind, too.
So today, Wednesday, was a good day. And that’s when I realized….
Only one thing had changed….
Everything that was “wrong” about Tuesday was because I thought it was Wednesday.
Everything I was miffed about on Tuesday was no one’s fault but my own, for thinking it was Wednesday. And probably my own guilty conscience about submitting a piece I knew could be better.
The guilt I felt about not working out was totally pointless, because…well, it was Tuesday, not Wednesday.
That special order will be a good thing, no matter what the outcome. I stepped out of my comfort zone, did the experiment, and figured it out. (Now for the hard part: NOT ORDERING findings until I know for sure which ones will work best.)
Nothing really changed on the “real” Wednesday. I just made better choices–because I paid attention to how I felt about Tuesday. (Er…the “faux” Wednesday.)
Sometimes, all we need is a chance to choose a different window to look through.
And what a blessing it is when we realize that, and choose differently.
Fear keeps us immobilized, but action is what we need now.
I remember only one line from David Cronenberg’s 1986 movie, The Fly:
“Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Fear is a protective mechanism. It can keep us from pursing dangerous pursuits. It can keep us safe.
It can also keep us locked in anxiety and block us off from the very opportunities that help us, and others, grow and thrive.
Just before we left on our California aimless road trip, a studio visitor brought me a book to read: Unsaid, by Neil Abramson. I didn’t actually get a chance to read much on the trip. But today I read the author’s note, to see if I should read it right away, or start with my pile of borrowed-time library books.
And then I read his words:
…I was surprised at the depth of the loss I felt. The only way I can explain it is to tell that something deep within me shifted. I realized I was so grateful for every minute with Skippy and I wouldn’t have traded the time with him for anything in the world, even thought that time ended too soon. Then I realized that this was Skippy’s last gift to me…(H)e taught me how important the act of living really is and how limited by fear I had become…. (Italics are mine.)
How limited by fear I had become…
Everyone I’ve talked to the last few days has shared how they’ve felt the last few weeks–stunned, anxious, ill, sad, depressed, fearful.
We thought the social changes in our world were going to continue for years to come. We thought we’d overcome our fear of ‘the other’–people who are different than us, people who talk differently, who have different skin color, who pray with different prayers, who love a different way. “Different” had gone from “dangerous and scary” to “yet another color on the spectrum of humanity”.
All that seems swept away. The fear of “different” feels like it’s not only reversed, but reached monstrous proportions. And we feel helpless.
We are not helpless.
It’s time for us to get brave, and step outside our comfort zone. It’s time for all of us to become activists, however we can. It’s time for us to put our money, our time, our words, our presence, where our mouth–er, heart–is.
All of us have skills and strengths, interests and connections. It’s time to put them to good use.
I’ve talked to people recently, who have gently moved from “being afraid” to realizing they can put their expertise to good use. They can contribute to stopping the spread of fake “news”. They can teach people how to research the crazy articles that foment hate and fear. They can put their hobbies to good use raising funds for social justice. They can share the joy and courage in their hearts, that has spurred them to make their creativity visible in the world, and create joy and courage in others. They can use the simplest acts to help others.
Food kitchens have hordes of volunteers on the holidays. Why not commit to helping on the ordinary days instead?
I love reading. It’s time to share that love with elementary kids again.
I see friends who have people they cares deeply about, people who, historically, have been easily marginized. They are standing up for them.
I’m going to join the Million Women March in January. I’m scared–I’ve never been the protest-march type. But what is my fear, compared to the very real fear of so many other people? Not much.
Don’t let fear immobilize you. Don’t let it speak for you.
Let your heart speak for you instead.
Something will cross your path in the days ahead–a volunteer opportunity, a fundraising effort, a conversation, a chance to participate. For me, the afterword of a book I haven’t even read yet.
When it does, your heart will let you know. You will feel “the call”–a tiny, unexplained lifting of your spirit.
Follow it. See where it goes. Share it here. I’d love to know!
Remember those other, just as powerful words, that will take you to a place of light, and connection, and justice:
Be not afraid.
Be like my rabbit Bunster, may she rest in peace (with lots of stuff to chew on, and someone’s lap to leap into.) She was full of fear. Rabbits are full of fear.
But she also had a place in the world, and my life is richer because of her.
Balancing our individual needs with the needs of the group can be a fine line to walk.
No, I didn’t invent a new language. POK is an acronym for “Pissed Off Kids”, and of course, POV is “Point Of View”.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about mood.
Why do I wake up some mornings already stressed out, on edge, irritated and annoyed? Why do I sometimes wake up feeling inadequate, or as if I’ve been humiliated? I know it’s usually because of dreams I can’t even remember clearly. But why do those feelings linger? Probably because dreams feel real, right up until we wake up.
I’ve also read how things we aren’t even conscious are, can affect our mood, even our actions. If we read a list of words, one word like “angry” or “unfair” can cause a change in our outlook hours later–even if we can’t even recall that word from the list.
I’ve always had issues about “fitting in”. Some of comes from being a child of the 50’s, where expectations for women (in art, in academia, in business, even in sports) were different than they are today. (As in, they were lower.)
Some of it is being part of a large family. I’m the oldest of seven sibs. I’ve noticed that younger sibs learn much from watching family dynamics all their lives. They observe what works and what doesn’t when dealing with parents, they learn when to keep their mouths shut and how much information to share. Oldest kids have only adults for their role models. We spend a lot of time explaining and justifying our actions. I tend to believe if only other people understood me, my intentions, and my motives, they wouldn’t judge me so harshly. (Um…I just realized that’s probably why I blog.)
This may also be why I’m so obsessed with the “why” about making art. It’s a powerful tool to connecting others to my work.
Some of it is being a parent. We think we have more knowledge and experience than our kids. That’s true. But we forget we don’t have their experience. Their life is very different from ours. We often make assumptions that get in the way of truly seeing them.
The theme running through all of this is something I learned when I belonged to a craft guild years ago. When you belong to a group of any kind, the group has a lot vested in you being a member of the group, rather than being an individual with different goals and needs. In the case of the quilt guild, group pressure can subtly affect something as big as your color aesthetic over time. When I realized that was happening to me, I left the group. (nb…they were actually very nice people, it was very subtle thing.)
I get it. I really do. It’s easier for groups when everyone is on the same page. When there are common goals, much can be accomplished. Accommodation takes time. Patience. Energy. Even compassion. All those can slow down or interfere with a group’s common purpose.
So, in the group or out? Which do I prefer? I always chose me. What are the drawbacks there?
For me, it’s the fact that I still feel guilty about choosing myself over the group. I want everybody to be happy! So I explain. I explain way, way too much, to people who don’t care–because they want the group. Which isn’t good.
The problem with wanting everyone to understand me is, I’m trying to control what other people think of me.
Explaining, sharing the “why” about me is only powerful when people want to know. If we’re talking about customers who like my work, then they care.
If they don’t care, if they aren’t my audience, or the group is more important to them, then it’s a losing battle, and rarely works for long.
As I get older, I realize I’m expending a lot of energy that could be put to better use.
I might be a POK. (Thanks and a hat tip to Amy Johnson, who not only coined the phrase, she has lots of insight about what it’s like, how it works, how to reach out to a POK, and what not to say to a POK. (Hint: If I’m focused on my needs and my POV, it usually will not appeal to the POK.)
Today I realized I’m stuck in the middle.
I want to be understood, and accepted. But the people who I want to understand, do not care. So I’m angry and self-righteous, and unhappy.
I say I must be myself, and not molded and shaped by the group’s expectations. That means I must be comfortable with not being part of the group.
But most groups react badly when a member leaves. This is a fact of life. I was taught to be “a good girl”. The resentment directed at me for “not being nice”, for choosing “me” over “us”, is hard for me to bear.
“Not fair!” I cry.
This solves nothing.
And so I understand I still have a lot to learn. (Hence, the “eternal student” moniker.)
In a very primal way, I’m still learning the only POV I can control is mine.
The only person whose actions I can manage are my own.
The only people who want to know “why”, are people who care.
Now if only I could convince my dreaming self to get on board with that, my morning moods might improve.
Er…booze and chocolate for breakfast, anyone?
TMI can overwhelm. Start where you are, let go of what doesn’t serve you anymore, and take one step forward–today!
Today’s column from Fine Art Views: