

I’ve written lately about my recent abstract paintings, and have said they come from my subconscious. If you’ve read my blog in the past, you’ll recall that I think about what it would be like for me to attend art school now, or to have had my present perspective back then. It would be a completely different experience.
We’re coming up on the one year anniversary of my mother’s death. She saved all of my letters, and I got them in a package from my dad this week. It is so interesting to read the words written by a previous version of myself. It sounds like a different person. I don’t think or write the way I used to. Back then, I thought things were really neat. I still think so, but I don’t use that word. I had forgotten so many details of my life, so I am happy to have these letters as a reminder.
I’m still the same person. I don’t believe people change. They don’t change quickly, anyway. I see a transformation over time. Years and decades later, I feel that I’m unrecognizable as the person I was, but I’m not.
I had admirable traits back then. My judgement wasn’t great. My prefrontal cortex was not fully developed. I was insecure and begging for validation. Maybe I still am.
My parents see this experience at art school as the time I went astray, and that I am still not on the straight and narrow path. Not all who wander are lost.
I took a different path. I still carry all of these life experiences in my backpack, and now my own children are choosing their own paths. They don’t go they way I think they should. I worry about them, as my parents worried about me.
Don’t waste your time and energy trying to help someone who doesn’t want your help. You will stress yourself out and become exhausted. At the same time, you will annoy the person you wanted to assist. Sometimes, love means backing off. Stay out of situations you can’t change. Maybe recite the serenity prayer while you hike a river or watch a bonfire. You can’t fix everything. Everyone doesn’t share your agenda or your ideals. People have their own lessons to learn! You can’t learn for them. They won’t learn from your experience. The learning is hard, but necessary, and so is your own comfort and peace. Learn to let go. Take a deep breath, and then when you exhale, dispel the worry and fear with it. You’re not a superhero. You can’t save the world. You have gifts. Among them are love and limitations. Sometimes you have to love from a distance. With an open heart, step back. You have your own life to manage.
I write all the time about art, and my relationship with it. Still, it’s hard for me to explain the emotional response I have to pottery. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to learn to create pieces out of clay. During covid, I had the opportunity to try. A friend lent me his extra wheel, and I watched hours and hours of YouTube videos of people throwing pots.
It made sense in my mind. When I actually had the clay on the wheel, my hands didn’t understand. The clay didn’t cooperate. I mean, it didn’t do what I wanted it to do. But clay is patient. More patient than my mind, which was trying to reconcile the nature of clay with my clumsy fingers. I was longing to make something. Yes, longing.
Those ancient people that first discovered that mud could be formed and fired didn’t have YouTube videos or electricity. They couldn’t order clay from an art supply store. This is so much easier for me, and yet still so difficult.
I still don’t know what I’m doing, but I learn by trying. One day, I believe I will either laugh or cringe at these early attempts, but for now, I use these objects that I’ve made, and they make me happy. The permanency of ceramic makes me think that my art can survive long into the future.
I had this picture in my mind of drinking wine out of cups I had made… around a campfire with friends, touching these objects that serve a purpose.
I roast coffee beans. I store them in lidded jars that I have made. I drink the coffee out of cups that I made myself. I store my tea in a canister that I created. Nothing matches. I eat egg rolls off of a plate with the names of my ancestors. The names of my children. I eat cereal out of bowls I made out of clay. My cupboards are getting full. I dream of getting rid of all the other ordinary dishes and having only handmade pieces to eat off and drink out of.
I wouldn’t call them creative blocks, but there is an ebb and flow to life, which affects creative expression. If I’m too happy, I might be too busy enjoying other activities to paint. If I’m too distracted, I want to paint, but it may not be ready yet. The creativity is still there, but if I haven’t digested feelings of sadness, frustration or hurt, it may not be the time to express it yet.
I overcome creative blocks by giving them time.
My feelings are like brushstrokes on my life. They lay on the surface, and may call attention to themselves by their color, or the way they contrast with the rest of the painting. Other feelings, other brushstrokes come along in their time and another layer is formed. You may not see that bright orange or gray again, if it is obliterated completely. It is still there. It is still part of the whole, and informs what comes next.
The feelings teach me lessons. They change me in a process that continues whether I am actively creating art or not.
What might look like a standstill is not a creative block at all, but a vital part of the process.
You can’t control everything that happens in your life, but you can decide this now. You can decide to accept whatever happens. You can accept your loved ones with their decisions, with their uncertainties. You can accept change. You can accept disappointment. You can accept loss.
Tomorrow will come with new opportunities to learn and grow. There is nothing you need to do right now.
Just relax. Just enjoy this moment of peace. Just be. Right here, right now.
Love without needing to control. Accept without needing to fix. Relax without needing to understand.
There are things you won’t get the answers to. Things you don’t need the answers to.
Just relax in this tangled nest of mystery. Enjoy the gift of wonder and possibility. Not all questions are answerable. Not all answers are permanent.
Truth will come to you in its time. Understanding will dawn on you when you are ready.
And in the meantime, rest in the understanding that you are exactly where you should be. You are exactly who you should be.
The truth is the truth. You don’t need to understand it. You don’t need to control it.
You need to care for yourself. You need this not only for yourself, but so you have something to offer to others. You can’t give from an empty container. So be generous, and fill yourself with strength. With light. With conviction. With love.