Leana Delle

I believe it was ninth grade – maybe tenth – when my art teacher presented a series of Van Gogh paintings set to Don McLean’s “Vincent” (Starry, Starry Night). I immediately fell in love; both with Vincent and my art teacher. One of those loves continues to haunt me, and it isn’t my long extinguished crush on Mr. Pearson.

Why the unfaltering attachment to Van Gogh? Vincent’s vibrant colors, brushstrokes, and textures fascinate me – along with the jaw dropping transformation of his paintings from various vantage points in the room. He’s not alone in this creative feat, of course, but he in particular speaks to me.

So, this week I checked off a significant item on my bucket list: I visited the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and got to observe, firsthand, the legacy of a passion filled life. The pure volume of his pieces, and the visceral beauty of each one of them, literally brought me to tears.

Beyond the artwork itself, I was also struck by his seemingly unrewarded determination and obsessive pursuance of craft. It’s unfathomable and yet makes perfect sense. “I am not an adventurer by choice but by fate,” he said. Once he’d heeded the call to creativity, he had no option but to continue.

I have a new favorite painting of his since visiting the museum entitled, “Undergrowth.”

Copy and paste the following link for a virtual visit to this painting. Not that virtual visits really do anything justice, but…

http://virtualglobetrotting.com/map/undergrowth-by-vincent-van-gogh/view/?service=0

To me this piece of art represents the depths of our own character. Nuances that reveal themselves in entirely different ways given the angle, the distance, and the eyes of the observer. From every possible perspective, “Undergrowth” altered itself before me and became increasingly more vibrant. In my experience, our souls – given the right circumstances – can do the same.

Right this minute I’m sitting aboard a train from Paris to Rotterdam, and the setting sun is busy altering the images through my window. I have a new appreciation for the rich blues and greens that inspired the genius who now inspires me and a burgeoning love for bucket lists. Make one if you haven’t already, and start checking things off. The world will never look the same again and neither will you.

It’s a modern age, and one that involves a modern definition of “friends.” We “befriended” in my day. Now we simply “friend” or “unfriend” given the circumstances, and our list of friends can include anyone from our grade school teacher to the guy who fixes our car. Social media has expanded our network to the point of bursting, and I have noticed a number of trends occurring in the process.

We share a lot of information with a lot of people; we sometimes say things that should be left unsaid; we vent frustrations, flirt, have public arguments, and sometimes cast judgements. But there’s also another trend that happens that gives me cause for thanks, and that’s support. Bad news travels fast through social media, and prayer requests often elicit an instant response. Whether you have religious leanings or not, there’s a big collective hug that goes out when people feel frustrated, sorrowful, or alone. I like that, personally. I like it a lot. In fact, I like it so much that I think the only feature missing on Facebook (FB) is the ability to friend yourself.

I speak to people all the time who struggle with their own personal frustrations, humiliations, judgements, and internal dialogue. I struggle with these things at times as well – who doesn’t – but I’ve gotten a lot better at messaging myself when I need a shoulder to lean on instead of my previous approach of berating within an inch of my life. It takes practice though, and you definitely have to be interactive.

FB aside, I believe we can “friend” ourselves. What’s required is making an effort to read the posts/signs on the wall, poking ourselves on occasion to draw attention to what’s needed, liking the internal comments that bring us strength, and deleting the ones that pull us down. It means forgiving our program limitations when we make mistakes and scrolling through the bullshit that doesn’t warrant attention.

Essentially, if we put as much effort into maintaining a supportive relationship with ourselves as we do the 500 or so acquaintances we have on FB, we’d all be a lot better off.

Motivation comes cloaked in many disguises. Some of us can recognize it with little effort; others, not so much. I’ve learned over the years that I’m motivated by discomfort. If my gut is screaming that I’m on the wrong path, I’ll do everything in my power to get off of it. I’m also motivated by naysayers.

Oh, you know them. They walk among us with their noses held high and their spirits kept low. Actually… I love them. In fact, I can’t get enough of them, because they light a fire within me that mirrors an olympic flame.

Go ahead. Think that I can’t do it. Think it’s a passing phase. Tell me I’m making a fool of myself. That’s right, believe it and stoke the embers.

And it’s not so much that I need to prove them wrong. It’s more that they’re a physical manifestation of self-doubt, and I’m determined to prove myself right.

I’ve been asked on more than one occasion how to achieve self-esteem. It’s solely by doing the things that impress yourself; not others. If you think you can’t do something, get off your butt and try. When you succeed – and, in most cases you will – you’ll feel like you can climb Everest, and the opinion of others won’t amount to squat.

Do a little research. Figure out what motivates you, but don’t expect your motivation to present itself cloaked in joy. Instead, be alert to the fact that it may drive you to it.

Those of you who know me know that I love inspiring quotes. Love, love, love them. I’ve even been known to pen a few of my own, but one of my all time faves adorns my morning coffee mug. John Wayne’s “Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.” God, how I love that little blurb of brilliance, and while pulling it out of the dishwasher tonight, I pondered how important it is to feel just about everything while getting back up on the horse.

I admit to entertaining a melancholy mood earlier this evening that a friend was kind enough to boot me out of, but it was actually some time after our phone call ended that I bounced fully back. Why? Because in some sick way, I need to have those moments. I need to feel the melancholia. I need to jump in the deep end and tread water until my skin turns prunish before getting out to dry off. For me, that’s being alive. For me, that’s growth.

Now, I’m not saying that feeling is for everybody, and God knows there are plenty of emotions – generated circumstantially or clinically – that require validated assistance to help cope with, but feeling makes me who I am. No, I don’t rejoice in those times when I feel sad or lonely, but I try not to dismiss them either. I want to feel them. I want to reach deep down where I live and pull out all the nuances of what makes my heart and mind tick. It makes me more empathetic. It makes me a better writer.

Why do certain songs, stories, and pieces of art resonate with us? Because they come from someone who jumped in their deep end and allowed themselves to feel – be that joy, love, passion, pain, or sadness.

Really embrace the moments that rip you up and observe them in a way that will feed your creative pursuits. Take what you’re experiencing and put pen to paper, brush to canvas, or voice to song. It’s the process of building stirrups to put ass back to saddle.

Distractions. They’re pesky – no doubt about it. It’s a huge leap of faith to pursue a creative path, and dodging the endless curveballs that threaten productivity only adds to the challenge. Sometimes these curveballs knock us off our feet and send us completely off course. The trick is to crawl up out of the ditch and get back on solid ground. Well, somewhat solid ground. Artistic paths rarely consist of “solid” anything, but that’s oddly part of the appeal.

Distractions come in many forms. Sometimes something as simple (and annoying) as laundry can take us away from the task at hand, but the big things? Like loss, job changes, or moving? They can feel like cosmic tests of our convictions. They’re not, of course. They’re just part of life. Life’s the pitcher, and bullshit’s the curveball. The true test is not in the dodging; it’s in the follow through when you’re up to bat – andin giving yourself permission to rest after taking a few swings. Even if you strike out, rest and head back to the plate when you’re ready.

I recently acquired a new address, and the whole process distracted me from my writing. Unable to work in the midst of taunting boxes, I wore myself out trying to get my creative space “just right.” It’s almost done, but there was a pivotal point when I had to just say, “It’s okay that you’re not writing right now. It’s really okay.”

For those of us with creative passions, the world feels out of sorts when we’re not actively pursuing them – completely out of sorts. There’s a gnawing ache inside us that not only begs for relief but beats on us for not providing some. At some point, however, you just have to say, “I’ll get back to it.” That’s the climbing out of the ditch phase. That’s the search for solid ground. Don’t rush it. Just know you’ll get there – one permissible step at a time.