Loving what we have.

Not because it's perfect, but because it's ours.

The boys and I went out looking for the Aurora last weekend, and although we didn't see it, we had fun doing some night photography. We ended up at the In-n-Out Burger at 11pm eating fries dipped in chocolate shakes…a wild adventure for us given my early bedtime! And of course it didn't matter that we didn't see the aurora borealis (although dang I would have loved that) but we had a perfect night anyway. It was more than good enough.

And that's something important about love, I suppose. Loving what we have. Not because it's perfect, but because it's ours.

I ordered some fresh canvases today. There's always a moment of hesitancy for me with art supplies, a question around whether I deserve to invest in myself this way. It's not my primary or even my secondary revenue stream, but it's part of my self-care, part of my operating instructions. Feed her, water her, give her art supplies. 

It's what I turn to when I'm the most anxious or lost or lonely. It's a special quiet language just for me, that simultaneously soothes my spirit and connects me to the big S-Spirit. Sometimes/often I don't like what I've created, but it's the process that is the medicine. It's always worthwhile.

And because I don't like to waste things, I've been painting over all of my old canvases lately. They are mostly abstract cloudscapes that didn't quite turn out and I’m putting a bird on them! (insert Portlandia reference ;) There is something about painting on top of a piece that already has so much life in it, so many layers, that allows the new layer to totally come alive.

This is why I love telling new artists to trust every mark that they make and just keep going. Even if you’re not wild about every corner of the painting, everything adds to the texture and richness. Without all of those “unsuccessful” layers, the finished piece would feel flat. It would seem superficial and without depth.

We can look at our lives this way too. 

Every single thing that has happened is part of our ever-evolving, many-layered canvas. There are moments when we don't like how it looks and it’s tempting to quit or throw the whole thing in the garbage. But then something new happens and you start to like the direction it's going in... If we could somehow erase the older layers and have it be “perfect” it would actually lose something vital. The older layers inform the newer ones. The textures and contrast are so needed in a successful piece of art. 

I suppose I am at a moment in my life where I'm staring at that canvas and feeling a bit lost as to where to go next, which colors to choose, trying to find my instincts again.

If I was painting, I would tell myself to keep making marks. I would tell myself to keep moving toward the colors and shapes I love. I would remind myself to get lost in the sensuality of the paint itself. To remember how much I actually love the process itself. Including the not-knowing.

I would remember that there are no mistakes; that we just keep going.