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.

I love it when people say things off the cuff that end up inspiring me for days and weeks on end. Actually, it’s been a few months since a close friend of mine said the following: “If the universe keeps sending you a message to stop doing something, and you keep doing it, it’s just stupid.” This in response to me asking her if she drank caffeine. The answer was a resounding, “No.” I had to giggle.

This then led me to reflect on the umpteen stupid things I’ve caught myself repeating over the years when that little voice inside me said not to – be that the universe or my own internal compass. Maybe they’re the same thing?

Anyone else out there have familiar patterns that repeat themselves even when you know a situation’s bad for you? That nagging feeling that you’re treading on thin ice? Or, that you need to tread in another direction but can’t make yourself turn around?

Not sure that I’d go so far as to say that doing, or not doing, something is literally “stupid,” but not following your compass can be a huge waste. Not just for you, but for the infinite number of people who could be positively changed by your example. There really is a “pay it forward” chain reaction that occurs when you listen to your own guidance. You may think you’re just helping yourself, but a soft ripple starts to happen in the lake around you that’s made up of your friends and family.

Think about someone you know in your life who’s floundering. Maybe one small step toward the universe’s message for you could make all the difference for them too.

So, say you’ve found a passion. Or, say you get the occasional tap on the shoulder when exposed to a possibility that excites you. I know people who haven’t a clue what they want to do with their lives and those who are obsessed with their calling, but somewhere in between lies the fearful.

I know that place of fear. It lies at the corner of “What If” and “Not Good Enough,” and the traffic is horrendous. I suggest you take another route and head down “Why the Hell Not” sideroad.

 

Think about it. If you really have a nagging desire to do something, whatever that something may be, why the hell not do it? Is there a possibility of failure? Sure there is, but there’s also a possibility of success. And besides, as the late Arthur Ashe so aptly put it, “Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome.” It’s true. Just doing what you love is a joy in and of itself, so why the hell not?

As for not being good enough. By whose standards? Every one of us is unique and different, and we all express our talents in unique and different ways, so don’t let someone else’s opinion of your dream stand in the way of moving toward it.

There are going to be a lot of people who want you to stick to something safe – something secure. Yes, they’re simply concerned individuals for the most part, but I also think sometimes that folks get rattled by those who step out of their comfort zone. If you can do it, that means they can do it, and it’s easier if everyone just sticks to the status quo. Go ahead and rattle them, I say. Besides, you have  to remember that all of those people that you’re afraid will judge you will all be gone someday. You will too. Years from now, nobody’s going to remember or care that we even existed let alone that we let someone else’s opinion ruin our stay, so why the hell not?

And, speaking of time… don’t let that hold you back either. I hear people all the time saying things like, “But it would take me months to get in shape to run a marathon,” or “It would take over a year to get a book written,” or “My degree would take four years to complete.” Well, those months and years are going to pass anyway, and where are you going to be at the end of them if you don’t do it? Exactly where you are right now, so why the hell not?

Stepping out of a comfort zone can be a really scary thing – I get it – but next time you feel yourself faltering, just whisper “Why the hell not,” and keep going. Each time you do, your boundaries get pushed back a little further and become a little thinner until, eventually, pushing becomes almost effortless.

Boy, I’ll tell ya’. There are days when this dream pursuit can kick me in the hiney. Days when writing something more than a journal entry can literally feel like pulling teeth; my own teeth. And the guilt associated with ignoring an ache for creativity can be overwhelming.

Some of you know what I’m talking about. You’ve had days like that too where you look for distractions, but none of them seem to work.

There are two things in this place that taunt me constantly. My guitar and my laptop. They whisper at me from the shadows wanting attention. Not the “Check that I’m still in tune” kind, or the “You might have new emails” kind, but the “Do something with me that counts” kind. They’re like neglected children some days, and wouldn’t I love to be a stay-at-home mom.

My day job, for those of you who don’t know, is in nursing, and it’s not easy. It’s easier than writing oddly, but that’s because it’s familiar, and I have predictable outcomes from my efforts – mainly a steady paycheck – but it’s less gratifying for me. Yes, I’m helping people, and yes, it’s contributing to their wellbeing, but it’s not what I have a passion for.

So, why does our passion have to feel like an uphill climb? Because that’s the point. It’s a climb. Get it? The day job is a walk on an even plain. No struggle; no summit. That’s how it works.

And speaking of nursing, I remember a particular night, many years ago, when I was working on a medical floor. A young man was sitting in a wheelchair near my med cart, at 3 a.m., whining incessantly because I wouldn’t go to the 7-11 and get him a slushy. I mean, this went on for ages, and the whole time an elderly gentleman with Alzheimer’s walked around and around the nursing station seemingly oblivious of his surroundings. Circle after circle he walked with this nattering voice in the background begging me to venture into the night and abandon my shift to satisfy a craving. Then, at one crucial point, the old guy stopped, looked at the young man, and said, “Nobody said it was going to be easy.” I giggled and he resumed his circles – one slow circumference after another. I’ve never forgotten him. One brief moment of lucidity and eight little words of wisdom.

Nope, nobody did say it was going to be easy. The problem is, nobody said much of anything at all. So let’s spread the word of support, shall we? Let’s acknowledge that even our truest callings can be painful. Let’s put it out there that we’re going to have days when we want to sit and whine. Hell, let’s just blatantly whine and get it out of our systems.

Keep circling the desk though even if you feel dizzy and confused, and every once in a while just stop and remind yourself that nobody said it was going to be easy. Have your own lucid moment where that memory returns, embrace it, and keep on moving.

So, I’m currently living in Ontario, Canada, and it’s January. What does that mean? Cold, that’s what that means, but I like it. I really like it. There’s something about this time of year that renews me. A bit of a spiritual hibernation to prepare for the awakening spring. Also, the cold, fresh air makes me feel alive, and seeing my breath actually validates that I am. Some people find winter to be isolating, which led me recently to ponder the isolation of creativity.

I was driving to work a week ago, when traffic was horrendous due to weather and encroaching darkness. I coasted along at a measly 20 km/12 miles per hour and fought the hypnotism that comes from staring at a long, steady line of red tail-lights. Eventually the traffic inched toward a median where someone stood out in the freezing cold, seemingly stranded.

One person, beside their car, wrapped in a parka, staring off into the night sky. You see, it was -22 C/-7F that night, and snow was falling at a steady, determined pace. I’m not sure why that person stood out in the cold versus hunkering down in their vehicle, but looking at them – and I had plenty of time to do so – made me think, ‘That’s exactly how I feel.’

Now, that’s not a statement that’s put out there to garner pity. I’m quite content with standing on my own little median, but there is an isolating feeling that comes with following your heart, pursuing something unconventional, and getting out of traffic.

Again, this blog is about my journey. I am not a published writer; I pursue writing, but I have found my journey to be a lot easier since deciding to brave the elements and tell people about it. ”I’m an aspiring author,” I say now, and I usually get one of four responses:

– “Any money in that?” (like personal satisfaction doesn’t weigh in at all)

– “How nice for you, dear.” (this one is usually accompanied by a distant, blank expression)

– “Oh God. I’d love to do something like that. I’ve always wanted to, but I got this job and…”

– “Cool! I’m doing a similar thing. We should get together and discuss our projects.” (this latter group I now call the median dwellers)

For those of you who think about pursuing your passion, there will be times when you feel isolated – I guarantee it. The creative path is the one less travelled, but my experience has been that the further you get down the trail, the more people you’ll meet who are braving the elements as well.

Step one, for me, was admitting – out loud – that I have a passion for something and adjusting to the various reactions that came from that. I had to let go of fearing other’s opinions before I could open up to meeting like-minded people. They’re out there, and even though you may spend a significant amount of time by yourself working on your craft, you really are never alone.

I didn’t sense that the parka guy felt frustrated, scared, or alone on that freezing cold night. I kind of got a sense of ‘Well, here I am. What’s next, and I wonder who else is out there.’ I also got a vision of median dwellers only blocks apart all over the city. If we’d all just abandon the vehicles, take a few steps, and announce our intentions, we’d have all the support we needed.

Yep, that’s definitely how I feel.

Another post, you ask? And so soon after the first one? Well, a new year is upon us, and brand new years beg to have introspective words slammed together about them and passed around for all to view. Personally, my mind boggles at the fact that we’re on the verge of 2012. I couldn’t even have fathomed this milestone as a kid, and certainly not without a Jetson’s lifestyle. Where is my jetpack?

I love new years eve, and I’ll be spending this one on Skype sharing a few laughs and long distance memories with a lifelong friend. We’ll ring in the new year and share the sounds of doors closing while others creak open. A peaceful end, and a joyous beginning, with resolutions dancing throughout cyberspace.

Huh… maybe a bit Jetson-ish after-all.

I also love making those pesky resolutions, and I’ve gotten a lot more savvy at them as I’ve grown older. I can even manage to keep a few of them going instead of letting them slide by mid February. Maybe because they’re more genuine in meaning and not just something frivolous to write down. Maybe it’s because I now know the results of sticking to a vision that brings me joy. Or, maybe it’s just that the path is clearer at long last. Hell, maybe I just like setting goals.

Many of my friends and family have suffered great losses this past year, and still others have found enrichment. Let’s take the time tonight to embrace the being-ness of it all and feel thankful that we’re not on this wild ride alone. We’re in it together.

I wish you all a year of pushed limits, broken boundaries, embraced challenges, and enlightening truths. Wipe the slate clean at midnight and take just one step toward that something you’ve always wanted to do. I promise you, you won’t regret it.

Let’s kick 2012 into orbit. Cheers!

 

And feel free to share your resolutions with me. I’d love to hear them. There’s power in sharing.

Leana