I was walking a bit off-trail the other day. My dog had raced through the underbrush in an unfamiliar direction, and I followed. Between her and me was a very steep slope. She had negotiated it perfectly. Now it was my turn.
In the East Bay hills, adobe mud is the most common earth underfoot. It's really a type of clay and, mixed with hay and cattle dung, the ideal medium for making bricks. It comprises many an early California home and cathedral.
It's also very slippery, especially after the rain.
So there, right in front of me, was a steep and slippery path. Should I go in that direction or seek a safer route? Well, I'd been watching too many Olympic skiers sliding effortlessly down snowy peaks to go the safer route. “If I just keep my feet underneath me,” I told myself, “I'll be fine.”
Out I stepped and in no time I was sliding down the hill with my left leg at an angle that defied the notion that the knee is a hinge joint. I also heard a very disconcerting "click".
I'm home now, with a swollen joint and lots of questions. The first night I asked myself the usual "why me?" and I got an answer. It made me laugh.
The last few blogs I've posted have all been about the healing and saving power of art. I blush to tell you that, for all my talk, I've not made anything in months. I started a piece, and it's on my table ready to be finished, but I've resisted working on it.
What happens is that I approach my work, initially, with joy. I love my ideas, and want to see them manifest. Then as I continue working, the doubts come up: doubts about my ability as an artist, my age, my lack of connections in the art world, my conviction that no one will like my work, that I'll never be able to support myself as an artist, and that I'd best get back to the business of living.
Works stops, and I put my creation aside.
My heart keeps working, though, and everyday I think of new things to do and I wish I'd do them, but instead I arrange my life so that I have no time left to actualize my visions.
I guess the universe wanted to send me a message. Through the blog, it's had me writing about the power of art. I realize that I was writing the words that I personally needed to hear, but I wasn't listening nor taking what I was writing personally.
I've been told that when you don't attend to a Universal tap on the shoulder, it will do more to get your attention. It did; up on that slippery slope on my favorite trail, the one where I get so many of my ideas.
Now, I can't go anywhere with this sore and swollen knee, but I can sit in my studio and finish that piece. And here is what makes me laugh: I named that piece months ago and it's called "Slippery Slope". No Lie.
I realized that the true "slippery slope", the one that hurts us more than a fall from a patch of mud, is the discouraging words we use to prevent us from doing what would bring us the most joy. I’m listening now, and I know I need to heed that message from the Universe and get to work!
When I finish the piece, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll post it.
Love, Kristine
Finding Method in the Madness:
