The other day I got into a discussion with a friend about life (deep, huh?).
My friend said that life is so structured and rule-bound, that it is our job as individuals to fight the rules and expectations as much as possible so we don't get pushed into conformity.
I have always thought of life as big and messy and that it's our job as individuals to find a small corner of the world in which to build an organized and ordered space for ourselves.
What do you think? How do you see the world? Is it one of rules that you must fight against, or is it one of infinite possibilities that you have to make sense of?
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
The Process
I've always heard and truly believed that "It's the process not the product" and "It's the journey, not the destination." However, in our culture (and in my life), that's easier said than done.
When I began taking violin lessons, I imagined myself playing in the local symphony. When I began playing volleyball I imagined myself being the star on the team. When I joined www.nanowrimo.org I was going to be Oprah's next book club pick. Spanish classes were going to make me bilingual, running would draw admiration as I won a 5K, and art classes at the senior center would result in people clamoring to purchase my paintings.
You get my drift.
All of these dreams might have been reasonable if I had been, say, eight years old. But I began this life-changing journey, searching for my one and true amazing talent, when I was well into my 40s. I'm an old dog trying to learn new tricks. That's not to say I don't have some amazing hidden talent. It's just that at this stage, it might stay hidden.
Last summer, for the first time in at least a year, all four of my adult children were living within a 100 mile radius of me. My daughter wanted something to hang on the walls of her new apartment, so we all got together and spent a couple of evenings painting with acrylic paints on blank canvas. We are not trained artists. We are family. We painted, laughed, talked, ate, and drank. It has become one of my favorite family memories.
That experience led me to continue painting a couple of times a month with three friends and we have collectively completed seven paintings. I provide the painting supplies and they provide the munchies. Whenever we become too critical we remind ourselves that it's all for fun and repeat our mantra: "Don't let your mind sabotage your heart."
I paint until I'm happy with the result, and it doesn't matter if anyone else likes it (although the four of us are incredibly supportive). I have a small room in our house where I have recently hung my finished paintings. I don't care who sees them because each one is a reminder of the joy of the experience.
And to test my new attitude, guess what I just brought home.
When I began taking violin lessons, I imagined myself playing in the local symphony. When I began playing volleyball I imagined myself being the star on the team. When I joined www.nanowrimo.org I was going to be Oprah's next book club pick. Spanish classes were going to make me bilingual, running would draw admiration as I won a 5K, and art classes at the senior center would result in people clamoring to purchase my paintings.
You get my drift.
All of these dreams might have been reasonable if I had been, say, eight years old. But I began this life-changing journey, searching for my one and true amazing talent, when I was well into my 40s. I'm an old dog trying to learn new tricks. That's not to say I don't have some amazing hidden talent. It's just that at this stage, it might stay hidden.
Last summer, for the first time in at least a year, all four of my adult children were living within a 100 mile radius of me. My daughter wanted something to hang on the walls of her new apartment, so we all got together and spent a couple of evenings painting with acrylic paints on blank canvas. We are not trained artists. We are family. We painted, laughed, talked, ate, and drank. It has become one of my favorite family memories.
That experience led me to continue painting a couple of times a month with three friends and we have collectively completed seven paintings. I provide the painting supplies and they provide the munchies. Whenever we become too critical we remind ourselves that it's all for fun and repeat our mantra: "Don't let your mind sabotage your heart."
I paint until I'm happy with the result, and it doesn't matter if anyone else likes it (although the four of us are incredibly supportive). I have a small room in our house where I have recently hung my finished paintings. I don't care who sees them because each one is a reminder of the joy of the experience.
And to test my new attitude, guess what I just brought home.
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