Artists Passion

Midway through my vacation in Maui, more settled and relaxed, and having given myself permission to refrain from checking my e-mails daily, I clicked into the action. The wormhole that every book or story has, be it novel or short, eased before me. The waters parted. And I was determined to see Bessie and her observations through. I had to know what was going to happen to Bessie, whether all would be well wit her. I had to know that I would be okay with the outcome—her outcome.

This is where not only the story became more interesting, but my process in reading it revealed something to me. Sometimes the quality of an experience or a work is not how quick you accomplish it or undergo it. Sometimes the value of the experience is in having been able to give yourself time to achieve it.

In other words the quality is in the patience you showed another and yourself in waiting to here what they had to say, what we need to hear and then are inspired to write or paint.

This is a difficult concept to learn in a culture where so much value is placed on youth, agility and quickness. But knowledge of this, like age and wisdom, comes in its own way, along its own unique path, and in its own time.

In that I cared and was going to see the book through, I did not feel the need to speed up. Instead I wanted to savor it. I now realize that on an unconscious level I did not want the story to end, something I did not realize until the end. Arriving at that point of no return, I wanted to settle in and experience Bessie’s world, live it with her, see all the nooks and crannies, share life with her.

This is also where the learning and my transformation began—one that I only recognized when preparing to write this blog. For Bessie and her story, The Observations, are like paintings we start, novels we begin, poems that in being only three lines require hours of work to refine.

Our ability and skill at remaining rooted in ourselves, and in the moments that lead to change and understanding, allowing ourselves patience to develop is directly tied to the capacity to step back from all the external distractions that legitimately require our attention—to stop and breathe in, and in so doing read each word carefully, examine the painter’s brush stroke creating the texture and aesthetics.

These steps toward the worm hole transporting us to the gamma quadrant of change are like the marathon runner’s footsteps leading up Kilimanjaro or around it’s base—all in the effort of running that Boston Marathon or San Francisco’s Bay to Breakers. Her or his destination that though having traveled there numerous times possesses exponential areas yet discovered, uncharted terrains we have yet to trod.