Happiness

Straight lines are the worst. When I was in college, majoring in Fine Arts, I had an assignment that required straight lines. Failed. My professor couldn’t understand why I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t do it. It was frustrating. Today I spent a lot of time using a straight edge trying to get the beams of this church to look right. I did better than when I was a college freshman, but it wasn’t easy. I’ll come back to it tomorrow and see what I can do. This nocturne is growing me as a painter.

I had some epiphanies yesterday: What is happiness and how important is it? I believe happiness is feeling good - feeling things like appreciation, satisfaction, gratitude, optimism. But it gets tricky. Wouldn’t an addict say that when they’re high they feel good? Isn’t that why they do it? Are addicts happy?

When I was in my twenties I was very depressed. I was unhappy. I had happy moments, but overall I was an unhappy person. I felt like a victim. I felt like life was against me, that others were against me. I didn’t believe in people. I didn’t feel respected by them or accepted by them. I felt inadequate and incompetent. I didn’t see myself as worthy or deserving of good things. I didn’t respect myself. Life was bleak.

As I got older, after years of devouring self-help books, therapy, seminars, workshops, you name it, I found tools for change. What I discovered was how to relinquish negativity and create positivity instead. I believed that I had developed into a depressed person and that I could develop into a happy person - without needing to get high - on chemicals, or love, or food, or money, or clinging to people, or otherwise dominating and being top dog. Happiness did not equate egomania.

What I started to do was work on my resentments, Byron Katie style. What is it that I’m really upset about? The short answer? I’m almost never angry at someone or something else. It’s always about me. When I’m resentful, bitter, or angry at a person or institution, I always know that the root of that rage is me. I did something I didn’t want to do. I said something I knew I shouldn’t have. I was behaving in ways that were selfish, self-seeking, or dishonest. I was full of fear and I didn’t know how to face it or make healthy choices in the face of it. Fear won and my own character disappointed me. That is frustrating and heartbreaking, and the only cure is awareness. Which takes me to the next thing I focused on.

I started to look at my thoughts and beliefs. What is it that I’m rambling on about in my head? Is it helpful? Am I blaming, shaming, or punishing? Am I feeling sorry for myself? Am I making what other people say or do about me? Taking things too personally? Am I acting as if I’m powerless, with no choice? I think of an animal that’s cornered and can’t see a way out. What kind of crazy shit am I thinking and believing? Because the truth is that I’m almost never cornered or caged, at least not by anyone or anything else.

I started to see happiness as freedom from suffering. Freedom from victimhood, powerlessness, resentment, and blame. Happiness was looking for what’s working in my life, appreciating simple things and letting go of things I had no control over. Happiness was learning that humans are only capable of so much. We are fallible and limited. I’m fallible and limited, and it’s ok.

So, how important is happiness? I’m beginning to see that it’s the only thing that matters. Mentally working my way out of misery and suffering is the only thing that matters. It’s a practice, and every day gives me opportunities to work through something. I had to figure out how to make straight lines this morning. I found a tool. That’s small, but twenty years ago it would have been the reason I quit working on the painting and walked away from the sale.

Today, the things that overwhelm me are bigger than straight lines, but there’s still a way to work through them. I still have choices that are productive, useful, and healthy, choices that lead to a happier life.

Codependency Triangle

How come Sundays I wake up right a 5am ready to begin the day and Monday I can barely get myself up? I don’t get it. 

I worked on my church painting this morning and it’s tough. I don’t know how I’m feeling about it. I like a photo reference that I can study. With this painting I’m working from three different photos and it’s making me work harder than usual. Hopefully when I get it figured out I’ll appreciate the difficulty. 

There’s something that’s been on my mind the past few days that I want to write about. It’s one of those ideas that just eats at you until you get it out.

I first heard about the codependent relationship triangle fifteen ears ago: perpetrator, victim, enabler/rescuer. It was explained by way of a play. The characters were a mother, father, and adolescent son. The parents are home, up late, waiting for their son. They’re angry because they’ve just discovered that he has stolen money from them and lied again about his drinking and whereabouts. 

When the son gets home they confront him. He denies everything and gets defensive. Eventually, the dad gets angry and turns to rage in order to get his son to cooperate. The mom gets uncomfortable, not wanting to see her son abused, so she steps in. The dad then feels betrayed by his wife, who he thought was on his side, so he turns his anger at her. The son, fearing for his mother’s safety, starts to defend her by yelling at the father. Then the mom doesn’t like her son’s disrespectful tone and starts yelling at him.

We’ve all been there. Chaos. We’re arguing, and in the end no one remembers how it started. And all we’ve done is dance around the triangle: perpetrator, victim, enabler/rescuer. First, the perpetrator was the son, then the dad, then the mom, then the son again. The mom and the son tried to rescue each other and the dad felt like a victim when he lost his wife’s loyalty.

I feel like this is how we talk about social issues. We talk about the roles, not about the reality.

When I hear women say things like, “Down with the patriarchy!” all I can think about is this triangle. To me, women chanting this are actually going to perpetuate existing power dynamics and stay entangled in a codependent relationship with an institution they feel victimized by. It kills me. The patriarchy is seen as a thing, something that’s abusive, and the call is to bring it down, destroy it, so that we, ‘the victims’, can live in peace. 

I used to get fired up by revolutionary battle cries just like it. They were like a cattle prod to deadened soul. But now all I hear is codependency and staying stuck in the same old patterns.

To me, the revolutionary battle cry is: “I’m a victim. But I’m about to become a perpetrator!” And the reason it’s appealing is because it’s addictive. It speaks to the ego. Addiction is the fortification of the ego, the gratification the ego believes is the only solution for our shame. Self-will run riot.

I believe the alternative to “Down with the patriarchy” is “Up with me”. It’s not exciting. It doesn’t fire you up and make you feel alive. It’s a bit depressing, actually. Sobering. But it’s the only way to change. “Up with me” means raising my self-esteem, learning that I’m worthy, and discovering that I’m plenty adequate for this life. 

Fighting the patriarchy won’t change a thing. But raising ourselves up can, and would, if we did it.

Little Women Recipes

I dropped off another house portrait this morning. I think they were happy with it. Normally I like to wrap the paintings before I deliver them but this one was still a little wet so there was no ‘reveal’. I will think twice about that in the future as I think it adds to the excitement.

I also found out about an opportunity to enter some artwork for a hospital expansion. I will look more into it, but it looks like University Hospital has a 'call for entries’ for their new women’s health wing. The theme is “Texas in Bloom” which could be the theme of a lot of my plein air paintings from 2021. I like the idea of having my artwork in a professional building but, I also like the idea of my work being associated with healing and renewal. That’s inspiring. 

As I’m writing, I’m sitting here looking at my new painting of the church. I worked on it this morning and I think it’s coming along. I’m painting it using several photos as references, so I’m really on my own trying to figure out where to go with it. The client wants a nocturne, which is cool because the nighttime photos I found have lights strung on the rafters. It adds warmth, and makes it feel special. Moody, but in a good way. But nocturnes still feel a little out of my league. It’s only the second nocturne I’ve done and they’re not as easy as they look.

This afternoon I’m going to the grocery store to get ingredients to make my Little Women recipes. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make the biscuits or not but I think I’ll go ahead and do it. This is about having fun and finding something to enjoy. I’ve read the scene where Hannah makes ‘pounded potatoes’ and Amy makes lemonade but I haven’t read the part where they make the Cottage Pie or the Maple Biscuits yet. Now that I’m making recipes from the Little Women Cookbook I don’t want to read the book too fast.

I’m at the part where Marmee has gone to DC to nurse her husband and Beth has come down with scarlet fever. Ugh. I already know Beth dies and I can only assume this is how. If Marmee hadn’t left town she would have gone to the German family’s house to help them out and been the one who was exposed to scarlet fever. But, it’s not Marmee’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. It makes me wonder of Luisa May Alcott had a sibling that died. if Little Women is semi-autobiographic, did she have a sibling die or did she just make it up for the sake of the story?

I guess you can’t have a good story without a little drama. It makes me think about my own writing and whether my stories are captivating. When I first started sending out query letters I never heard anything back. Nothing. But in the past month or so I’ve been getting a lot of rejection emails. And even in the past week the rejection emails have been somewhat lengthy. This morning I got one encouraging me to continue querying. Weird.

I know all I can do is continue. All I can do is keep writing and keep sending out letters to agents. When I was in high school a teacher told us about an author who sent out query letters for years, never hearing back. She kept writing though, and ended up with several manuscripts by the time a literary agent became interested in her work. At the time he told us who the author was but I can’t remember now. All I remember is the tenacity. I hope I don’t have to wait decades to hear from anyone, but it does make me realize that relying on an agent and or getting published to make me feel legit is insanity. I want to write. I think about it even when I’m not writing. So that’s what I’m doing. 

Self-Care

I managed to finish my latest house portrait. I worked on it for quite a while and feel as if it’s ready to go to the client. It’s always a great feeling to be done, to sign a painting and step back from it. It will be nice to drop it off. 

Yesterday was dark and rainy but today the sun is out and it’s beautiful. Not that overcast days aren’t also beautiful, but when I have things to do it’s easier when it’s sunny. I don’t know why but overcast days make me want to sit under a blanket on the couch. Writing is an overcast day activity, but painting, or running errands, or anything that involves not being seated is not appealing. 

This is the first day to break out heaters and blankets. It’s always weird to do that. I pulled a sweatshirt out and realized I’d washed it when I put it away last year. Same with the pants I’m wearing. Kudos to me for thinking ahead and making sure I had clean clothes in the future. 

I remember the first time I stopped to get gas on the way home even though I was exhausted and wanted nothing more that to get out of the car and eat dinner. I stopped and filled up because I knew I would forget in the morning and then be late.

I guess that’s one of those signs of growing up. In the morning I, of course, was late. I got in the car, turned the ignition and there it was, the full gas tank. Then I remembered stopping the night before. I almost wanted to hug myself. I was so touched by my own forethought that I wanted to do more things like that for myself.

The first time someone asked me what I do for self-care I was so confused. What are you getting at? I wondered. At the time I thought about treating myself to a movie or a hamburger, but it was explained to me that self-care is treating yourself like you love you. I mean, shouldn’t that be the norm? Maybe for others it is but for me it wasn’t. I was always so hard on myself, pushing myself to work harder, do more, be more. I didn’t think I’d ever be accomplished if I was easy on myself. So sad.

But over the years self-care has become part of my life. How can I treat myself like I love myself? 

The other day someone suggested I treat myself. I thought of a hamburger. I mean, I guess I have a one track mind or something. I do eat hamburgers, but I try to eat meals at home. That way I know what I’m eating and I don’t overeat. But what does it mean to treat myself? Like a pat on the back or reminding myself I did something well. I’m still thinking of food. Today I’m going to buy ingredients to make a few things from the Little Women Cookbook I got from the library: biscuits and shepherds pie. 

Perhaps like washing clothes before I put them away for the season or stopping for gas before I get home I will think of ways to treat myself that don’t involve food, but for now it’s food. And eating. That’s what I associate with treating myself. Hopefully the biscuits and shepherds pie will turn out well.

Something Light

It’s been so long since I’ve seen rain. I heard it this morning while I was sleeping and it startled me. I’m glad I saw the forecast before I went to bed, otherwise I would have gotten up wondering if something was wrong. It’s the rain we used to get before global warming made violent thunderstorms the norm, easy and gentle. Just hours and hours of rain. We need it so badly.

With the rain comes the darkness, so this morning I needed extra light as I was painting. “Minnie” is complete. She’s an 11x14, oil on board painting of a pup. A cute mutt. I will call the client later today and let her know. I also worked on another house portrait that’s coming along. I may be able to finish it tomorrow or Wednesday. After that I’ll get focused on the church painting. 

I was contacted this weekend about doing a portrait of someone’s home on Canyon Lake. I sent her my sizes and prices but never heard back. It happens a lot. I think people get excited about the idea of getting a painting commissioned but then realize that they’re not cheap. I actually think my prices are pretty low. Since I’m just starting out, trying to get going, get clients, I want people to feel like they can afford it. I’m an unknown, after all. But in time I’ll raise my prices, so now’s the time. I hope I hear back from her.

I spent the weekend reading. It was so nice. I sat on a screened in porch in the country and read. I got two hundred pages into Little Women, which I’m loving. Now I know whey people have loved it for 150 years. It’s amazing that this book has NEVER BEEN OUT OF PRINT! Never. In 150 years. That’s beyond amazing, actually. Louisa May Alcott makes you want to live in their world with them. 

Although I haven’t made anything from the recipe book I got with it (The Little Women Cookbook), I’ve spent a lot of time looking through it. One of the beverage recipes is Amy’s Lemonade, which she made in one of the scenes I read late yesterday. Also, Hannah’s Pounded Potatoes. After Amy gets humiliated at school by the strict teacher, the housekeeper Hannah pounds the potatoes with her pestle like it’s the teacher himself. I think I’ll make the Cottage Pie with Pounded Potatoes first.

I also spent time reading Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay Nature. I haven’t finished it, but so far so good. I like when he refers to the milky way as the City of God. I love spending time in nature and I too find it rejuvenating for the soul. 

The fourth book I took to the country is called The Power of Crisis by Ian Bremmer. It’s about China, global warming, and COVID, three crisis he says are driving global and domestic change. It’s hard to argue with it. I’m hoping he ends the book on a positive note. It’s great to keep up and know what’s going on in the world, but not if I have no idea what to do about it.

I often ask myself, why can’t you just be into true crime or The Lord of the Rings or something? Listen to podcasts that are entertaining or riveting or funny? Why do you have to be into politics and emotionally charged topics? Maybe it’s the addict in me. Maybe I still need something to give me an adrenaline hit. I don’t know. But yeah, the Ian Bremmer book is heavy, but Little Women overpowers it. Between Ralph Waldo Emerson and Louisa May Alcott I’m fairly balanced.

Holiday Spirit

I was hoping to finish my pet portrait today but I think I’m going to sit with it and see if I can make some improvements. It’s a decent painting right now but I think I can make it better.

I haven’t been posting pictures of my house portraits because I didn’t want them to be public before the clients were able to see them, so here they are. Both paintings were well received and appreciated, so that made me happy. I hope all future deliveries go that well. 

There’s a meme going around, actually it’s a New Yorker comic, but it’s a woman sitting on a couch reading and the husband says, “I thought you said you booked us a three-day weekend getaway?” And she says, “No, I said it’s a three book weekend so get away.” Instant classic. I’m about to have a two-day, five book getaway. So get away.

I got Little Women, The Portable Emerson, The Power of Crisis  by Ian Bremmer and The Little Women Cookbook. I guess I won’t be reading the cookbook but it looks like it’s got some good stuff in it. I thought it was a brilliant idea when I saw it at the library. There’s something about food described in novels. When I read A Gentleman on Moscow I found the author’s recipe for the pork stew the Count eats at the Metropol Hotel. It was amazing. 

This is the beginning if my favorite time of year. It’s still hot but next Monday we’re supposed to have our first cold front. Not that I want it to be cold, I just want it to feel like fall. So perhaps as I spend the next several weeks or so reading Little Women (I did not realize it’s such a long book, 700 pages) I’ll get inspired to make some of the March family recipes.

There are a few recipes I want to make right now, namely drop biscuits and jam. Yum. Also buckwheat pancakes and porridge. Cottage Pie, which looks like Sheppard’s Pie, and Jo’s Gingerbread. I’ll be in the kitchen instead of painting soon, never to return.

I can’t remember the last time I got excited about the holidays. Maybe this year I make an effort to make them special. Neighbors are already decorated for Halloween. I think painting a nocturne of one of them would be cool. One time I had a friend drive me around the neighborhood so I could take photos of people’s Christmas lights. Unfortunately the photographs weren’t clear enough to use as references for painting. I realized I needed to go plein air paint in the evenings if I wanted to capture those images. Maybe I’ll do that this year. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a commission to paint someone’s house at Christmastime. 

I’m going to think of more ideas of how I can get in the holiday spirit. Maybe I’ll make some of these recipes from the March Sisters for friends and family. I’m thinking candles, and if it’s cold, fires in the fireplace, walks on cold days, and the Vince Guaraldi Trio. Those are my faves. In the past I have read A Christmas Carol at Christmastime and really got the feels. I’ll find something long and cold and overcast to immerse myself in when I finish Little Women.

A-Political

I spent some time working on another house portrait this morning. I kind of lost myself painting and ‘came to’ ninety minutes later wondering what time it was. I had a lot of detail I needed to work on and when I do that I get sucked in. When I finally had time to step back and look at the work I’d done I realized it was coming along well. 

I printed out some invoices and wrapped the paintings I’ve finished. They’re ready to be delivered tonight. Keeping my fingers crossed the painting Gods shine down on me and send more commissions. 

I’ve been watching the January 6th Committee Hearing. It was on for two and a half hours. I ate lunch, took a quick nap, printed out invoices, wrapped paintings and that thing was still on. There were a few things that I hadn’t seen before. One was Trump’s campaign to discredit Dominion voting machines. I’ve see in the news that they’ve sued him several times but didn’t really know much more than that. What they showed at the hearing were videos of Trump giving conferences about the voting machines and how many were programed to switch votes. Totally made up. 

The other thing I hadn’t seen was footage of congress members in their hideout. They were all on the phone trying to get the Virginia National Guard, the Maryland National Guard, the DC police, police from other jurisdictions, anyone to come help them. 

All I could think as I listened and watched the hearing is that I can’t believe that guy has managed to stay out of jail all these years. How is he not in jail for all this? At the end of the hearing they voted to subpoena him. I can’t wait to see if he shows up for that. He probably will since he’s been complaining about not having a chance to tell his side of the story.

I’ve been listening to a podcast called the The Fifth Column. It’s a group of guys sitting around talking about politics. Sometimes it’s a little chaotic, but for the most part I enjoy it. I think I’m relieved to hear people criticize the left without all the vitriol that actual conservatives would be spewing. I don’t know if these guys are right or left. They sound as if they all live in far left bubbles but in comparison to their communities consider themselves moderate, or a-political. I think that’s where I’m headed.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written about politics. I think I’m burnt out like everyone else, but I’m really burnt out on my own ‘side’. And I hate to say ‘side’ because it makes it seem like a clique. But I’ve always been left leaning, sometimes very, sometimes not so much. Right now I’m irritated about the militant way speech is controlled by the left. It’s like if you don’t already know what progressive college kids and professors know then you’re ignorant. 

Something’s got to give. I hope it does, and I hope it does soon. 

Live and Learn

I started two new paintings this morning: a nocturne of a church and a pet portrait. The thing I want to concentrate on with the nocturne are the lines. There’s no building, just beams where the building once stood. Behind it are trees and of course a dark sky. The beams are white so they stand out even at night. But when I paint them they’re probably going to be a dark gray color as opposed to pure white. They also have white lights on the outside, running up the sides and up the arches. That will be fun to play with. This is going to be a challenge, but I’m up for it.

The pet portrait is pretty simple. I should probably do more of them as pets make great subjects. Mine is called ‘Minnie’. She looks like a chihuahua mixed with a lab. She’s a mutt, so she could be a mix of a ton of things. Who knows. She’s much bigger than a chihuahua but she’s still a small dog. Same coloring as a chihuahua. It seems like on the streets of San Antonio there’s chihuahua in every stray dog you see. Minnie followed my owners home one day and after trying to find if she belonged to anyone else she was declared ‘home’.

Tomorrow I will drop off both my house portraits. I won’t have time to visit with my first clients as I need to be at the next client’s house 30 minutes later. Hopefully things will work out. I left it up to fate and this was what manifested. 

Yesterday I spent time taking care of business. After I figured out how to print on my newish computer I decided to open a savings account associated with my business checking account. I want to transfer money to pay income taxes whenever I make a sale and it’s one of those things I’ve been meaning to do but hadn’t gotten around to. It felt good to get that established. Now I have a safe place for that money until April. 

I also went through all my payment apps: Venmo, Cash App, Apple Wallet, and Zelle. I made sure that a) I know what my ID’s are so I can give them to clients, and b) my business checking and debit card are connected to them. This took some time, and it wasn’t what I enjoy doing, but it was necessary. That’s one of the hard parts of being self-employed: when do I do the things I don’t like doing? Like running numbers and organizing receipts? Like printing out invoices? I can fantasize all day about having an assistant but I don’t have one, so I need to set aside a time do the work myself. 

Right now I don’t have a set day and time to do them. I know a lot of self-employed artists who set aside a day of the month, like the last Thursday, to run numbers and print invoices; to make sure their accounting is organized and up to date, but since I haven’t been doing a lot of business yet I haven’t started doing that. My focus has been on money generating actions steps. When these commissions came in this week I knew it was time to buckle down. I look forward to the day when I can regularly juggle all these things and really feel like I’m in business.

Last week I reached out to an artist I follow on Instagram. I had told a mentor about the commissions I’d gotten and he asked I had written contracts. I didn’t and I got really upset, thinking I’d overlooked something any relatively competent person would have thought of. So I reached out to a professional painter to ask some advice. He graciously responded. I told him of my situation - painting house portraits with no written contracts. He shared that when he was an art student he would do pen-and-ink drawings of people’s homes. He would ask for half the money up front and the other half when he was done and they liked it. But, he didn’t do written contracts.

The conclusion I came to is that my agreements were done via messaging and therefore, informal contracts. Plus, in my gut I just don’t think it’s a problem. Maybe I’m naive, but so far the clients I’ve met with have been really cool. It feels right to do this via verbal agreement and a handshake. Perhaps I will learn differently in the future, but until then I’ll stick with what I’m doing. 

The Business Side

I finished my second ‘house portrait’ commission this morning. They’re both still wet so I will wait a day or so to contact the clients. I spent some time earlier trying to figure out how to print out invoices. My biggest struggle ended up being connecting to the right printer on my computer. If my neighbors have an InkJet printer then I may have accidentally printed out five copies of my invoice on it. My bad.

I did notice that it’s possible to set up ways to pay on Quickbooks so I may play around with that later. It would be cool to have my Venmo QR code printed on my invoices. 

I’ve got one more ‘house portrait’, a pet portrait, and a painting of a church. The client wants the church painting done as a nocturne, which is just a ‘painting’ way of saying the image is a night scene. That is going to be the hardest part, but I think I can figure it out. I have the scene mapped out in my head so the struggle is figuring out the colors for my palette. I’ve only done one nocturne and I have to admit it was tough. The value differences are really subtle and it’s not just about throwing dark colors on the canvas. 

The church is an event space centered around an historic foundation. The original church was burned during the Civil War and now there’s something of a structure built but not enclosed. It’s both beautiful and eerie at the same time. The client is getting married there at Christmas and wants something that captures the venue and the time of year. I found a photo online of the church with a giant wreath suspended between two beams. I’ll start with that idea and see what happens.

For the longest time I avoided business like the plague. I wanted nothing to do with it. But as I’ve gotten more serious about painting I’ve come to realize that I’ve got to bite the bullet and figure this stuff out. When I was young I saw business through other people’s eyes, and by other people I mean men.

What I saw growing up was that business was treated as a way to prove ones manhood - the sports field, or battle field, where men tried to one-up each other, outdo each other, compete with each other, and measure themselves against each other. The way they talked about work, the way they talked about their careers and jobs and bosses and clients. Everything was a way to jostle for power and status. I wanted nothing to do with it. 

But I’m learning that business doesn’t have to be that way. Those were the people in my life struggling with the things they were struggling with. If I was going to do business with my family members I might think twice about doing it, lol, but I’m not. I want my business and based on different values and ideals. I want to be of service. Buying a painting is a luxury, but it’s also something that brings meaning and joy to one’s life. I want to be the one to bring that. 

I’m developing an interest in the business side of what I do. It isn’t always fun to try and figure new things out, especially when the problem is something mundane and simple like connecting to the wrong printer and sending five jobs to your neighbor’s printer. No one likes to spend the morning chasing down frustrating things like that. But I have to say, once I got that invoice printed out there was no hiding my satisfaction. I was pleased, and it felt great to move on to the next item on my to-do list.

Inner Direction

Despite the fact that today is a holiday I got up and worked on my novel and then worked on two of my ‘house portrait’ commissions. I finished my first painting. I’ll reach out to them tomorrow to tell them I’m done. The second one is close. I spent most of my time this morning working on it. I changed the angle of the roof, which wasn’t that big of a deal, but still, I spend so much time drawing it’s frustrating to have to redo it.

Tomorrow I’ll get started on my other commissions. I’ve got a pet portrait and a painting of a church. Both are paintings from photos, so they shouldn’t be too difficult. Painting in plein air is what’s tough. Thoroughly enjoyable, but tough.

Yesterday I spent most of the day engrossed in a book. I’m going though a 19th century phase and started reading about the Transcendentalists. I got a book from the library that seemed like a good pick from the search: Transcendentalists and Their World, by Robert Gross. When I got it home though I discovered it’s a 600 page history of Concord, Massachusetts, a little more than what I was looking for. I’ve probably already mentioned this in previous posts but bear with me. It is a massive book and I have read 350 pages. 

The first 300 pages are about Concord - the churches, the primary businesses and newspapers from the late 1700’s to the 1830’s. It covers who preached, who sold what and to whom (lots of liquor), who’s farms were prosperous and who’s weren’t, what people did, who socialized with whom and why. There were white folks and free blacks who seemed to live segregated but peacefully. 

This was a time in American history when lending libraries became popular, debate clubs were common, and lyceums were used not only to educate, but to give people something to do other than go to the pubs. Ralph Waldo Emerson gained popularity by being a speaker. He went to lyceums throughout New England to speak, eventually helping transcendentalism become popular. 

Transcendentalists believed that society would be stronger if we were more individualistic. It also promoted the idea that immersing oneself in the natural world is a way to connect with the divine. Both radical ideas for the time. Emerson believed, as the Quakers did, in the still small voice within, and that this voice enabled us to make decisions that were right for us. I think transcendentalists were transitioning away from finding power through association and instead finding it from within. Living an inner-directed life as opposed to looking to others for answers. 

I find that living an inner-directed life is something that I’ve done very little of, or rather, did very little of growing up. I was more aware of what everyone else was feeling than of what I was feeling. In fact, I was pretty clueless about my wants and needs. It’s taken me a long time to transition away from finding power through association. Being a people-pleaser was what I was was raised to do and I did it well. 

Having said that though, I think the inner-directed versus outer-directed life requires balance. I mean, if all I do is think about myself and my own needs than I’m not living in unity with others. I’m just isolating. I’m going to finish the book and read some of Emersons essays to see what he thought. My understanding of Transcendentalism is basic, but so far I like what I’ve read. With everything going on in the world I’m trying to understand the basics of democracy, of what it takes to participate in one, and I think understanding Transcendentalism and how it evolved is a good step towards that.

Written Contracts

I’m having one of those days. I don’t mean to complain, but I guess I’m going to. It was so hard to wake up. I fell asleep during meditation. And I’m carrying some stress, fear, and hurt that I can’t shake. Yesterday I told my business mentor about all my commissions and he asked if I had written, signed contracts with them. When I said no his reaction terrified me. He didn’t really say anything, but what I heard was, “Oh, you’re screwed. And you’re a fool.”

Now, this is what I heard. This is what I made his tone mean. As we talked he said, ‘You’re in a good place, and you can’t be somewhere you’re not. You’re going to continue to grow. You’ll get where you need to be.’ I think he was trying to put me at ease, but the damage was done. And the damage was mostly due to my own head. 

I made verbal agreements with neighbors and friends for commissioned paintings. Most of those agreements were in writing, through messages and texts. So, in a way I have informal written agreements. I may be fooling myself, but that’s what I came up with to make myself feel better. 

This morning I went on Instagram and looked up several artists who seem to have healthy careers and I plan to reach out and ask them what they think. My mentor is not an artist, not a painter, so neither of us knows how this works in the art world. Is the art world formal, with written contracts? Is it informal? Either way I need to do some research instead of being upset and in the dark. 

My mentor has been crucial to my growth as an artist, as a professional, and as a business owner. I’m not upset with him in any way, but I’m freaked out by his response. I don’t want to be in danger, especially financial danger. Although I don’t foresee any of the clients I’ve met with this week being problematic much less dangerous, my issue is just the fact that I felt judged. I felt like a clueless and inadequate business person, and that button unleashed a lot of shame.

I’m sure I will be ok. My gut tells me that I’m fine, which really is all that counts. I’m not only learning to be a professional artist but how to live an inner directed life. My business mentor is not my boss, my CEO, nor my God. He’s just a kind, helpful person sharing his own experiences with me. Ultimately, I’m the one who needs to make the decisions. 

I appreciate his feedback. I appreciate that he sees written contracts as a sign of a professional. Maybe I should. Maybe a big part of my problem in life, from selling artwork, to getting work done on my house, is that I want everything to remain informal, which to me means ‘unscary’. Maybe I need to be willing to take things a little more seriously. Perhaps a written contract not only helps me but helps my clients as well.

Act as If

I’ve been working on a commission this morning. It is one of my ‘house portraits’. I started it en plein air but spent an hour or so working on it in the studio. The house is white with black trim and it has great landscaping. I’m trying to capture the warmth and feel of the house. You can tell whoever lives there cares about it and spends time investing in it -  financially, physically, and emotionally. I hope, in the end, they’re happy with it.

Last night I realized I have five commissions going at once. Monday I had none. What a difference a day makes. Monday I met with a client, Tuesday, before I’d met with my second client, two people contacted me about commissions. And yesterday I heard from a friend that the undeveloped area across the street from her is finally being mowed. I have been planning on a ‘house portrait’ for her but the only place for me to set up was across the street and the weeds were up to my waist. 

So now I have five commissions. This is crazy. I love it, but man it’s crazy.

For months now I’ve been painting and writing, believing that things would work out. This is my biggest leap of faith. Working full-time as a writer and painter has been a dream of mine for years. It took me a long time to realize it, but I’ve always wanted to be creative professionally. So when my grandmother died and I decided to go for it I wasn’t sure if it was going to work out. I’ve had a lot of stress attacks and panic attacks over the past ten months wondering if I’d made a huge mistake, but last night I realized that it might just work.

I know five commissions doesn’t suddenly mean I will have a steady income from here on out, but it did open my eyes to the fact that this could work. If I can get regular commissions, perhaps gallery representation, along with my Etsy shop, I may have a chance of generating a livable wage. I’m used to surviving rather than thriving, but I now think thriving is possible too. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get one of these books I’ve written published too.

A few weeks ago I started to just act as if. I write every morning for an hour before my actual work day starts. My workday begins with painting. Afterwards I blog about painting, and in the afternoons I either draw or practice color mixing. I am not only putting paint on canvas but regularly practicing the skills that help improve painting. I decided that although the income wasn’t coming in I would just settle down and live my life as if I’m a professional artist and novelist. I figured, if I act as if then it has to be. Eventually, I will be a professional, earning a living and thriving. It must be.

Trusting Myself

I went a few blocks away this morning to start a commission. It’s one of two ‘house portraits’ I’m working on. I posted lasted Saturday on some neighborhood groups I follow on FB that I paint houses and I heard from a lot of people. Only two took me up on it but hopefully there are more mulling it over. They’re both in my neighborhood so I don’t have to go far.

I guess the painting gods were looking down on me yesterday because I got two more requests for commissions from non-neighbors, neither of whom saw my post on FB. The first commission is from a family member wanting a painting of her dog. The other is from an old friend who wants a painting of the church she’s getting married in. I’ve suddenly become very busy. 

I have to say, if the rest of my neighbors are a nice as the ones I’ve met this week, painting houses will be a great way to get to know people in the hood. I don’t go to the get-togethers or events just because I’m not into socializing. I’d rather hustle and get to know people as clients instead. I’m already enjoying this. Hopefully more people will decide to get portraits done of their homes.

I’m also excited about painting this church. It was burned during the Civil War and the community didn’t have the funds to rebuild. Now it’s considered and ‘outdoor’ church, with a floor and beams but no walls. It looks cool. She’s getting married in December and wants a nocturne painting. I found some cool photos online that I’ll use as reference, but this will be a creative endeavor for sure. 

I’ve been telling myself for months that I’ve got to get some commissions. I guess it’s been one of those things where I needed to procrastinate as long as possible until I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I don’t like to think of myself as a procrastinator. It was more fear and doubt than anything else. Do I want to get myself into something new and unfamiliar? Do I want to take a risk? Do I want to be busy with other people’s projects? Do I want to deal with other people - their needs, their expectations, their hopes, their letdowns? These are the things I’ve been asking myself all these months not knowing if it was the ‘right’ choice. If that’s procrastination then I’m a procrastinator.

When are fear and uncertainty a good thing and when are they bad? That’s what I’m asking myself now. Now that things are looking up and asking for commissions has turned out to be a positive thing (for the time being). Now I’m wondering about the difference between character defects and self-preservation. When am I procrastinating in my own best interest and when am I holding myself back? People always talk about procrastination as an unnecessary character flaw, but what if it’s not? What if we need time to think things through? What if I had jumped in six months ago and it hadn’t gone well?

If I showed up to a new client’s house NOT wanting to paint it, would that have gone over well? Or, what if I’d shown up full of doubt and uncertainty - about my skills, about them, about doing the work? Would I have made a good first impression? Would I have put them at ease that this thing they’re agreeing to pay for would be worth it? Yes, I could have done the whole fake it ‘till you make it thing, which I loath, (I am not an actor!), but I just don’t think there’s any reason to not be patient.

Making these decisions is tough. I’m glad I have support. I have a business mentor and it’s been the key to learning how to trust myself. My mentor doesn’t tell me what to do or when to do it. He knows his job is to run his own business, not mine. Instead he’s a great listener and he always shares similar struggles he had when he was starting off 20 years ago. That’s all I need. I just need someone to listen and get it. Somewhere inside I know what I need and I know what my business needs. It’s just a matter of trusting myself. I’m feeling glad I did that right about now.

Telling Stories

I did some touchups on Brook Hollow this morning and then worked on 1-10 and Fred. Most of the Brook Hollow painting ended up being the trees that hang over the building, and although I had put sky holes in the trees, I wanted them to be a little brighter than I’d left them yesterday. After I did that I spent a good deal of time putting detail in my urban landscape of 1-10 and Fredericksburg Road. When I work on detail I lose myself in what I’m doing, which is good, but when I step back it doesn’t seem like I’ve done that much. I guess that’s the trade off.

Later today I’ll head to Herweck’s Art Supply and get some archival canvas boards for my commissions, and some new brushes. I met with a client last night and tonight I’ll meet with another one. It would be great if the sun was out, that way I could start those paintings today, but unfortunately it’s overcast. I think I’ll get started today and then finish on a sunny day. Looks like tomorrow will be clear but the rest of the week is supposed to be overcast.

I’m reading a book about characters reading books. It’s pretty cool, especially if you like reading. It’s called The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams. It’s a modern day story set outside London about a widower trying to read books so he can bond with his granddaughter, who’s a bookworm. His wife was a big reader but he was never interested until her death. It’s a sweet story and I have to say I’ve never read a book or seen a movie about people who love to read.

In my first novel my character reads The Call of the Wild by Jack London. I originally put it in because it seemed like a 6th grader would be reading something in English class, but as I worked on the book and my story started to develop, I noticed there were similarities between what she was going through and Buck, the dog in The Call of the Wild.

Buck is stolen from his owner and sold as a sled dog in the arctic. The story talks a lot about civilized and uncivilized. It talks about the wildness that’s reclaiming Buck as he is immersed in and uncivilized world. My character is beginning to notice the incivility of her world - of society, of her community, and of her family. She asks her teacher why the world is so mean. To her, this is baffling. She doesn’t understand why people are cruel, insensitive, and harmful. 

It was kind of cool to see that connection happen as I was writing. I had originally wanted her to read Where the Red Fern Grows because that’s what I had read in 6th grade, but for some reason I chose The Call of the Wild. “Wild’ also made me think of spiritual. When Buck takes off for the wild it reminds me of someone hitting rock bottom and turning inward for healing and recovery. My main character is telling the reader that things at home are tough and for an informed reader, they will know that at some point in her future, she will need to turn inward for healing too.

It’s cool the role other people’s stories play in ours. I guess that’s the power of storytelling. Are we telling our story, other people’s stories, or universal stories? Or all three? I don’t think writing is the only way to tell stories. As a painter I’m also telling stories. I can remember reading about Andrew Wyeth while I was working on a painting that I wasn’t happy with. Out of nowhere I heard, Finish telling the story. Immediately I knew that the painting needed more detail. It was unfinished and the reason I wasn’t happy with it was because it just seemed to fall flat, like it wasn’t communicating the story I was trying to tell.

My paintings tell the story of home - of houses, of places we see a lot as we drive to and from home, of interiors, of landmarks. I want to connect with neighbors by telling stories of the neighborhood. The series I’m working on now is of a major intersection near my house that I think is going to change soon. It’s already changing. Gentrification is heading our way and I want to tell the story of how it was. I want to give people a way to hang on to the past.

19th Century Obsession

I finished working on Brook Hollow Branch Library. I’m not all that happy with the painting but I did the best I could with it. I have been running out of steam with the libraries lately. I was pretty gung ho for a while but I think I may need a break. I would also like to paint other San Antonio landmarks, so I think I will switch back and forth.

Brook Hollow was a hard building to paint. The parking lot was steep so I was looking down on the building somewhat as I stood in the parking lot to photograph it. I maybe could have gotten a little more creative with the angel but I didn’t want it to be an abstract painting. I wanted to be realistic. 

Right now I’m enjoying urban landscapes, areas that are easy to spot and vulnerable to development. I also want to paint some of the historic churches downtown. I have two commissions that I’m starting this week. I’ll meet with neighbors tonight and tomorrow to talk about painting their homes. I think ‘house portraits’, especially during the holidays, would be fun. When people start putting up Christmas lights I’d like to try doing some nocturnes.

I really enjoyed painting cemeteries too. It might sound kind of morose, but they are quiet and peaceful places. Some of them are well taken care of too and make good landscape paintings. I miss painting outside. The weather is usually good between now and December so I may think about getting outside more.

Last week I finished reading Pride and Prejudice. I don’t think I’ve ever read Jane Austen before. Lately I’ve been going through a 19th century obsession. I read a biography of Thomas Eakins whose paintings are often referenced in art history classes. He was a realist painter and his work of boxing matches are pretty famous. Unfortunately it sounds like he may have abused a niece of his who became mentally ill and committed suicide in her 20’s. That’s certainly not what led to my 19th century obsession, but it did make me realize that human behavior doesn’t change much. I mean, they had the same dramas we have today.

He became friends with Walt Whitman late in Whitman’s life and that’s what got me interested in the 19th Century. Whitman wrote Leaves of Grass and was not necessarily a Transcendentalist but had a lot of transcendentalist ideals in his work. He was later than Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson, but reading about him in the Eakins biography made me want to know more about Transcendentalism. 

I got a book from the library called Transcendentalists and Their World by Robert Gross. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into when I put it on hold. It’s a 600 page history of Concord, Massachusetts. I’m on page 250. It’s been a tough read, but I’m glad I kept up with it. I’m learning a lot about Concord but also Western culture in the 19th century.

People were getting passionate about education, lending libraries, debate clubs, and lyceums, anything that would give people a reason to better themselves and stay away from the pubs (apparently alcoholism has always been an issue too). With the effort to help people increase their intellect, it led to a society becoming more liberal and secular. More intellectual and educated. Probably something we could use these days.

So after I finished Pride and Prejudice I watched a five hour long mini-series I got from the library with Colin Firth as Darby. It was a marathon movie but it was good. My plan is to read Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte next and Little Women by Louisa May Alcott after that. Louise May Alcott was also a resident of Concord, Massachusetts in the 19th century and considered a Transcendentalist.

I don’t know why Transcendentalism is calling me but it is, as is 19th century America and England. I get these obsessions and then want to immerse myself in times and places. I guess it’s an escape. I do want to know more about Transcendentalism and how it shaped our country. Seems like it should be relevant today for some reason. Just my humble opinion though.

Finding Success

I worked on my 1-10 and Fredericksburg Road urban landscape this morning. It was one of those days painting when I lost track of time and everything else going on in my life. The zone. There are so many little details in an urban landscape, especially one that’s capturing a long stretch of road like Fred Rd. I’m not sure how much detail is too much. You can put too much detail and too little, so I’m looking for the sweet spot, the right balance. I also want to capture the way colors fade in the distance. This road goes far and it’s important to make sure those colors fade.

I’m hanging some artwork tomorrow at a gallery downtown. I’m a member of the San Antonio Art League and they have a member’s gallery in Southtown. I’ll have a piece up for three months and tomorrow afternoon I need to drop it off. It’s nice to know I’ll have work up for people to see for several months. I’d like to find gallery representation. Etsy is great, but I think paintings are things that people need to see up close.

What is the ticket to making a living as an artist? I’d like to know the answer. As far as I can tell, not many artists know, even the ones who are successful. What I’ve heard and read is the debate between galleries versus selling online. Some people argue that selling online is legit and lucrative, while others insist that brick and mortar is a must. It’s a tough question to answer. Perhaps if I have success selling in the SAAL member’s gallery I’ll have a better idea of what works for me.

I think I’d like to be out in the community more though. Covid has been a real stick in the mud, but it looks as if socializing is coming back in vogue. Although I’m a total homebody, and dislike very much going out at night, I’d still like to meet art buyers and investors. Having an Etsy shop just doesn’t cut it. But… Etsy is soooo convenient. It’s easy to photograph a painting and post it online. It’s even easyish to pack it up and send it. I’ve seen some painters who have success selling on Etsy, so obviously it’s possible to do.

I guess it’s a balance, like everything else. A little of this, a little of that. Most known stories about artists are that we are broke and struggling. I am. It is true for me. I’d like to change that narrative. I’d like to go from struggling to successful. I believe it’s possible. I have read about and talked to artists who make a very nice living, who not only make enough to support themselves but make enough to support their spouse and family quite comfortably. It’s possible. And I don’t even know that talent and skill are the most important factors. It seems like attitude plays a bigger role in whether an artist reaches the success they want. 

Attitude and belief in oneself. Is that spiritual? Are those things - self-esteem, sense of deservedness - the marks of spiritual health? What role does spiritual health play in success in general? And, do you have to call it spiritual health? Can one refer to self-esteem, self-worth, and sense of deservedness, as the belief in one’s lovability? Acceptability? Likability? The belief that one is enough? Where do those things come from? Is it possible to cultivate more self-esteem? To feel more deserving? Those are the questions I find myself asking these days. I can improve my skills as both a writer and painter, but can I also improve my sense of deservedness? Can I raise my self-esteem, even if nothing changes?

Holiday Blues

I finished my painting of my house. Afterwards I worked on Brook Hollow Library which I think will be finished in another sitting. I worked with the front door open which is a close second to working outside. I could hear the birds chirping and my house cooled off a little. We’re finally getting down into the 60’s at night after several months of extreme heat. It always makes me happy when I can sit with the door open in the fall.

Yesterday I got a covid booster and a flu shot. Although I felt like it was a good idea to get both I was a little worried about the impact. I don’t normally get vaccines. I don’t think I’ve had a flu shot in 30 years. I don’t know why I became averse to them, but somehow over the years I did. I felt like I wanted my body to work up immunity to things on its own. The past two years with covid has opened my eyes to a new way of thinking. I used to think that I would get my kids vaccinated when they were young (if I’d had them), but for some reason I just didn’t think it mattered that much as an adult.

I’m not going to say that I’m now a militant vaccinator. I don’t live by it. But after getting sick last week and realizing that I’ve been masked and isolated for two and a half years, I thought it was a good idea to get the shots. The last booster I had almost a year ago resulted in a day of achey fatigue. It’s still early in the day today, so who knows how I’ll end up feeling, but so far I’m ok.

I’d like to be looking forward to the holidays but this year is going to be tough. My grandmother went into the hospital the Saturday before Thanksgiving last year and we spent the week rushing back and forth. We were enjoying dinner on Thanksgiving Day last year when my uncle got off the phone with the doctor and said we needed to go say goodbye. It was awful. Luckily she was ok, for the time being. Perhaps he misinterpreted the message, I don’t know, but the rushing was unnecessary. It was a stressful time and we were all on edge.

I spent Christmas evening with her in her room. She was in hospice and had an attendant with her. It was hard to talk to her about the holiday and how I’d spent it, knowing she’d been there alone. I’m not sure how much she was aware of though, which is why we didn’t spend the morning with her. I think different family members visited throughout the day, but for the most part there were no gifts exchanged, no holiday meal for her. The circumstances were bleak.

She died in January. I was at a 10-day meditation course and she died on the night of day 9. I had a lot of time and space to cry. I felt disappointed in myself for going. I really expected her to be there when I got back. She kept asking people why she hadn’t died yet. The whole time she was in hospice she was disappointed that she didn’t go while she was in the hospital. Several times, when I was visiting she would ask, Why am I still here? Some of the nurses suggested we ask her if there was unfinished business she felt was hanging in the air. She said no.

I couldn’t help wondering if my leaving made her realize that eventually, we were all going to move on with our lives. For six weeks we tended to her daily. My mother, uncles, aunts, and cousins. My bother even drove from Denver over New Years to spend some extra time with her. I know she didn’t die because of me, I know it was between her and her Higher Power, but maybe she was enjoying the attention. Maybe she was hanging on because we were all there, all united around her impending death.

It’s impossible to know. What is it that makes us realize it’s time to go? I like to think that it’s always a choice, always something that we accept for ourselves no matter what the circumstances are. That may be Pollyannaish, but that’s what gives me hope. Her death made me realize that my death is imminent too. Life doesn’t last forever. I can still remember when I was young thinking I had forever to figure things out. I had my whole life ahead of me. Time flies.

I miss my grandmother. I miss her being here, and I miss the role she played in my life and in the lives of my family members. It’s so weird when someone’s no longer here. I can remember walking outside after my nephew was born and having one of those deja vu moments. I was struck by that tiny human’s presence in the world. He was just baby but he carved out space for himself, and everyone and everything shifted because of him. We had no choice. I think it’s the same when someone dies. I have realized how much we all matter, how deeply connected we are. 

I know I’m not the first person to spend the first holiday without a loved one, but it’s the first holiday without someone who was central to my world. She was here for 49 years of my life. I’m grateful for the time I had with her. I guess I will let go of the holidays, let go of expectations. It’s time to move on and find new ways of spending them.

People Pollution

I forget how good it feels to be outside, even for just and hour. I set up my easel in the front yard this morning and worked on my ‘house portrait’. I’d put down the foundation last week, before I was sick, so I was really just putting in highlights and lowlights. I decided to move a window, so I was unable to complete it today. Once it’s done I’ll use it to try and get some commissions.

My neighborhood is quiet, quieter than some state parks I’ve been to. I always think I’m going to go camping and relax in the peace of the outdoors, but a lot of parks are just off highways. I went to Goliad State Park a year ago and I was right next to a highway that did not stop all night. Same with Seminole Canyon. Eighteen wheelers all night long. At Pedernales Falls State Park I listened to planes, I’m guessing from Austin-Bergstrum Airport. It’s hard to get away from people, from noise and chaos, and bustle.

Sometimes I think about moving. I entertain thoughts of relocating when I get irritated or unhappy. But it’s hard to imagine where I’d want to go these days. The only place I can think of is back in time, when there weren’t so many people. I can remember living in Austin in the 90’s and in the summer months there was no one there. You’d drive around all day and it was like a ghost town. All the students would leave for the summer and anyone who stayed in town was inside in the A/C all day. 

San Antonio was similar twenty-five years ago. It seemed like no one was here in August. Maybe people had the means to travel and get away during the hottest time of the year. Now it’s just as crowded when we have triple digits for four months straight. Either people don’t go anywhere anymore or there’s twice as many people on the planet, or both.

Sometimes I think about moving to a small town but the first thing I think of is the library. Would I be able to find the books I want? What about food, groceries and restaurants? I can’t live on BBQ and Mexican food, as much as I like them, I’d get burnt out quick.  Plus, what would it be like politically to live in a small town? I’d be the only Democrat showing up to vote. That would be awkward. I feel like I’d have to keep to myself and keep a low profile.

I don’t think America was great in the past. I know there were just as many problems as there are today. But there are so many people. It’s hard to travel. Driving to Dallas is practically bumper to bumper. Is it just going to continue? Will the population continue to grow? What will it be like when I’m in my 80’s. When my grandmother decided to stop driving she talked about traffic and how much it had changed. She said it was harder to get places and everyone was in a hurry. I think that same change has happened since I started driving thirty five years ago.

Normally I’m good at looking at things from a positive perspective. I don’t normally dwell on the negative. But population growth is the one thing I can’t seem to deal with. I went to Berlin, Germany in 2004. I remember being confused while I was there, not sure if the Brandenburg Gate was in the middle of the city or in the country. When I got home I happened to read an article about noise pollution and discovered that Germany has the highest restrictions in the world. Suddenly it made sense. I was, in fact, in central Berlin, but it was so quiet it didn’t seem like a large city to me. I felt like I was in an American suburb. 

Maybe what I need to do is fight noise pollution. Maybe that would make it seem like there weren’t so many people in the world. And I might as well throw in light pollution. If you look at light maps of Texas you can see I-10 getting lighter and lighter over the years. It’s where people go to star gaze. What will happen in 20 or 30 years?

So I guess people aren’t the problem. The problem (my problem) is pollution. My problem is our impact on the environment, our impact on each other. When I spend an hour outside, hearing the birds, feeling sun on my face, feeling the breeze, my spirits are lifted. Even though I live in the city I need nature. I need to reconnect with it regularly, and I’m afraid the more people there are in world the less nature there will be. It's soul crushing to think about. 

Being of Service

I’m getting back to painting this week. This morning I spent time working on the 1-10/ Fredericksburg Rd intersection. I’m a little happier with it now that I’m sitting a few feet away from it. It’s always nice to have several paintings that I can sit and look at. Planning my approach makes it much easier to get back into a painting. Sometimes it’s like writer’s block, I just sit in front of it not knowing which way to go. When I can spend time looking at it I can pick out things I want to change or embellish. 

Last week, or week and a half ago, I got really sick. I assumed it was covid but five tests were negative, including a PCR test. So confusing. I was talking to a friend and she said her parents and her brother all tested positive and none of them had a single symptom. They tested because her bother’s girlfriend tested positive. So, did they have covid? Were they carriers of it? Did I have covid and five false-negative tests? It’s a touchy subject. A few people wanted to argue that I really had covid. I don’t blame them. I felt like I had covid. I’ve never had it (as far as I’m aware) and this was the worst I’ve felt in several years. It just seemed like it should have been covid but I guess I’m going to trust the tests.

I was bedridden with a fever Thursday through Sunday. Monday I woke up and my fever had broken but I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Wednesday was the first day that I felt like myself. I spent a few says trying to catch up with things that I wasn’t able to get to while I was sick like laundry and stocking the house with groceries. I’m so grateful that I can do those things.

This weekend I went out of town to horse sit. My mom has a horse and a donkey, Paz and Mr Bentley respectively. I was supposed to feed Paz Saturday night and Sunday and the rest of the time relax on the great screened-in porch she has. But unfortunately Paz was lame, so I spent a lot of time watching him and caring for his leg. It was stressful because all I know about horses  is how to feed them. I don’t know the first thing about nursing them much less taking them to the vet. They are enormous animals and quite overwhelming.

Luckily two of my mom’s friends came by and gave him something called Bute, which is like ibuprofen for horses. They also put a clay poultice on his swollen ankle to draw out the swelling and infection. In a few hours I noticed he was walking around without limping. That was a relief. I left last night and this morning a woman was supposed to take him to the vet. I’ll check in later to see how he’s doing. 

Asking for help is so hard. I went out of town last summer and asked a friend to come water the plants. I worried about things going wrong and her feeling burdened by it. I would have felt awful if watering plants had turned into something she neither wanted to do nor felt equipped to do. I can only imagine what my mom must have felt trying to get a much needed vacation only to spend it working about her horse.

I guess those are the experiences that make us appreciate the people we can depend on. I’ve always wanted to be someone who can handle everything. As a young adult I think I felt overwhelmed by all the new responsibilities I had. Like most young adults I felt unprepared. Of course at the time, I thought everyone else was prepared but me. It wasn’t until later in life that I realized you can’t forgo transitions. Life is full of them and they happen whether we’re in the mood for change or not.

I notice that I like helping. I like feeling needed. It can feel like a burden, or like it’s over my head, but knowing that I can step up and give someone a hand makes me feel good. I think my mom’s friends felt the same way. They seemed not only happy to help her and Paz, but happy to help me as well. After all, I was horse sitting and had no idea what I was doing. This majestic animal weighs maybe a thousand pounds. Paz is a senior guy so he’s not all jittery and high strung. But I have to admit, leaning down by his foot so I could hose it off was not where I wanted my head to be. Just saying.

It’s hard to ask for help, but it can be satisfying to give it. Easy to remember when you’re helping. Hard to remember when you’re asking. Why is that? I can often get isolated and caught up in my own life, not always paying attention to others much less offering to help out. Being of service is supposed to be a cornerstone of living a spiritual life. I think after this weekend I’m going to think about that a lot more.

Status Driven

I worked on Brook Hollow Branch Library this morning. I’m still just putting down the first layer of paint but I think it’s coming along. I’ve got three paintings I’m working on right now, this one, the painting of my house, and the urban landscape I started yesterday. It feels good to have several paintings going at once, especially when they’re subjects I’m looking forward to painting. 

I’ve got a DVD ready for pick-up at the library about color mixing. That is one of the ‘practice’ drills I’ve been wanting to incorporate into my day. I’ve been doing a lot of drawing in the afternoons but still haven’t started color mixing. I know it helps. I see a lot of artist on social media talk about it a lot and it certainly is something I could get better at. 

I’ve been reading a book called The Natural Way to Draw. It’s got a lot of exercises but the author recommends getting a model. I have been looking at YouTube videos of parades thinking they would be a good alternative. I watched a march, maybe at Disney World or something, of storm troopers, which was kind of fun to draw. I also took some photos of myself sitting and slouching. I don’t mind drawing nude models in a drawing class but I’m not sure I’d want to hire one myself. Seems a little awkward. 

I listened to a podcast this morning about status. It was a very humbling interview to listen to. Apparently, we are all status driven, and what we think will give us status differs. For some it’s money, for others it’s knowledge, education, fashion, coolness. I can see for me it’s knowledge and reading. When I was younger it would have been coolness and fashion. Although as a young adult I did the whole, it’s-so-ugly-it’s-cool thing, which, I guess, still accounts for trying to be cool.

With the Queen dying a lot of people are speaking up about their anger at royalty and colonialization. I don’t get it. Two hundred years ago, people were struggling with feudalism, where the nobility had all the power. So we created a system of self-government. But now we’re back where we started from, except instead of nobility, and or the governing body abusing their power, it’s the ultra wealthy.

I’m more concerned with the oligarchs, tech billionaires, and ‘titans of industry’ than I am of the royal family. All the Queen did for 70 years was try and be an ideal leader and role model. She made it a point to earn the respect of the people. Some of these billionaires are running human trafficking operations in their private jets and on their private islands. They embezzle billions through real estate and congratulate themselves by sleeping with girls and marrying models. But no one says anything because most people are enamoured with them. It’s gross.

It seems like everyone’s afraid of someone, afraid someone’s going to overpower them or control them. I think those fears stem more from a fear of not being in control of one’s life more than anything else. I certainly resent the way the ultra wealthy can, and do, influence the government. I’m against lobbying and super PACs, but I’m not afraid of the government. I’m afraid of people not respecting the government and doing all they can to undermine it. I’m afraid of coups and insurrections. But I truly believe that if we just let our government work the way it’s meant to it would work pretty well.