Prop The Door Open

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.”

~ from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This morning as I was working out in the little gym in town, I opened the door to let in the  gorgeous view of the fall colors in the distance, some fresh autumn air, and a little more light. I was facing the door while lifting some weights, when a slight breeze picked up outside, and the door slowly and quietly began to shut. It stopped about two-thirds of the way, leaving only a third of the view, fresh air, and light.

I’d forgotten to prop it open with a rock.

It is safe to say that while I am squarely in the third-third of my life, there is still a lot out there that is mine to do. More words to write, more retreats to lead, more stages from which to speak, more clients to coach, more work on which to collaborate, more adventures with the love of my life, more time with the “littles” in our family, more time with those I love, and, more to discover every step of the way.

In order to make good on what is still mine to do, I have to keep the door to whatever that is open.

So do you.

An open door keeps our vision in front of us, breathes fresh air into our work, and shines light on our steps. But the door won’t stay open of its own accord. We have to prop it open with our rock-solid commitment to pursuing the good work to which we are called, the authentic, whole-hearted lives that we are here to live, and the people whose hearts we are here to love and to touch.

The door to the life that is ours can begin to close, ever so slowly and quietly, if we don’t remember to prop it open with a rock.

Creative Foraging

“The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.”

~from Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

I always think of spring as the signal that new life is about to emerge. Bulbs push their way up through the earth, and new buds protrude on branches. That which has lain dormant through the winter hears the wake-up call of the spring rains.

But what about the rain that arrives in the fall?

It’s raining today, and we’ve been eagerly anticipating this much needed rainfall for weeks. After another exceptionally dry summer in our neck of the woods, the threat of fire has loomed large. With this precipitation we can all start to breathe a little easier, and the trails that have been closed due to fire danger will be opened up for hearty hikers. The burn ban will be lifted soon which means that we can set off our slash piles. Hunters have a better chance of bagging an elk when the weather turns cold and wet. Leaves fall and decay, downed trees continue to rot, the earth falls silent, and new growth feels months away.

Except for the wild mushrooms.

Chantrells are the crown jewels of the fall, and we wait for the rain that will call them forth. We forage for these elusive exquisite treasures of the woods, looking for the telltale bulge at the base of a tree that gives away their hiding place. Coming home with even one of these is worth the effort it takes to find it.

Today as the rain continues to fall outside my window, I’ve started to wonder if what is true of the wild mushroom is true of our work? Fall doesn’t naturally call forth new growth as we make our way to the end of another year. This is the time we focus on hitting our goals, finishing up projects, and checking things off of our end-of-the-year lists. Our creativity falls silent, and fresh new ideas can feel months away.

But what if?

What if there is a creative jewel just waiting for to be called forth by the rain?

What if there is an elusive treasure that could be food for creative thought?

What if we started looking for the telltale sign of an idea pressing up through the soil?

Bringing forth even one of these would be worth the effort it takes to find it.

There are still three months left. Plenty of time to forage.

Photo: Stefan Holm Shutterstock ID: 86126398

Your Real Art

 “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.“

~ Thomas Merton

A lot of years ago my best friend (and amazing artist) Kristine and I attended a creativity retreat led by Julia Cameron, author of the seminal book, The Artist’s Way. We were in Taos, New Mexico staying at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House, an inn with a history of creative types like Georgia O’Keefe, Willa Cather, D.H. Lawrence, and Ansel Adams gathering under its roof. Creativity practically ran down the walls, and seeped up through the floors. 

Joining us for the week were other creative types from around the country, and at the time, I didn’t consider myself to be one of them. I was a “creative wannabe”. My greatest hope for the retreat was that no one  would find me out.

Someone did.

I can remember exactly which doorway I was standing in, and the woman that I was talking to. Everything was going fine until she asked me the one question I had been dreading.

So, what is your art?

Busted. 

 Umm. I’m a writer.

Her eyes narrowed.

But what is your real art? 

She took aim, and fired.

You know, like do you paint? Or draw? Or sculpt? Or design? Your real art. 

Hers was a cheap shot, although I don’t think it was a malicious one. Maybe the same fears and insecurities that made me doubt my own artistic abilities made her uncertain of her own. Maybe she was a “writer wannabe”. 

Her words haunted me for the rest of the retreat and for years to come. But the more creative risks I took, the more I learned about myself. Her question, as it turned out, was a generative one, as I broke it apart and looked at the pieces one at a time.

What is MY real art? It is whatever I envision, create, and display, made visible in the world for all to see. 

What is my REAL art? It is whatever is a true, honest, authentic, and vulnerable  representation of who I am, made visible in the world for all to see. 

What is my real ART? It is whatever I make in my life and of my life, offered up to enrich and beautify the world, made visible for all to see.

The world is but a gallery for our life, and whatever we make out of our lives is made visible in the world for all to see. 

You are an artist.

I am an artist.

We are all artists.

Oh...and I’m a writer.

Viborg Cathedral: Stairs to the tower. Viborg, Denmark

Just. Do. It.

 “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.” 

~Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life 

One of the unexpected outcomes of writing BLUSH: Women & Wine, was that I fell in love with writing all over again. In the process of sitting down and putting words on the page, I remembered something I had forgotten; I love to write.

By showing up day after day at my desk, I rediscovered one of my passions; I love to write.

In honing my craft, I rekindled an important fire; I love to write.

After the book came out however, the flames that had fueled it went out. I was no longer stoking the fire.  

 40 days ago today I made the commitment to write every day. Not ready to begin working on another book (yet), I decided to just start writing. I decided to just do it.

As with any endeavor, some days are easier than others. There are days when the words can’t pour out on the page fast enough. I love those days.

Then there are other days.

Like today.  

And so...

Today it is enough to put words on the page, because when you love something, you just do it.

Today it is enough to show up again, because when you love something, you just do it.  

Today it is enough to continue to hone my craft, because when you love something, you just do it. 

What do you love? 

Just. 

Do.  

It.