Feel The Vastness

The day we packed the studio there was a break in the rain and I was grateful for the moment of sun. The previous night on Skip’s deck we were treated to a double rainbow. It was vibrant for a few precious moments and then faded. Skip took some photographs before it dissipated and then we drank wine and laughed.

The first night back in Seattle, walking from the light rail to the ferry, we were drenched. The skies opened and buckets of rain soaked us to the core. Judy gave us wooly dry socks and hot soup to warm us. She transformed my story of reentry from one of harsh weather to one of deep and enduring friendship. Later, she played a song on the harp so that I might remember Seattle.

This morning as we crested the pass and began our decent into the eastern part of the state, I felt released. I was drawn to the Puget Sound almost 15 years ago. It was a magnet, the place I was supposed to be. I was seeking that indefinable something, the parts of myself I thought were missing; it turns out I had them all along. I had to stop looking to find them. Today, it seems that the poles of my earth reversed themselves and sent me on my way. It happened in a moment and I sighed at the recognition.

Kerri and I stopped at the Wild Horses monument. We climbed the hill and stood still with the running metal horses. The sun was warm so we sat on a rock and took in the expanse of the gorge. I closed my eyes and felt the vastness of space and the autumn and of life.

Tonight, I do not believe that chapters open or close and I have no faith that time is linear or progresses in any single direction. Past and future are stories, merely. Once, I saw Stephen Hawking talk about the universe as bubbles and where they brush together, for a moment, entire worlds come into being.

For a humorous look at the wonderful world of innovation and new ventures, check out my new comic strip Fl!p and the gang at Fl!p Comics.

Welcome The Equinox

I just checked the official date and time of the fall equinox. Last night the moon was gorgeous so I thought the equinox must be today but it’s not. According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac the autumnal equinox falls on September 22 at 4.44 pm on the east coast. That makes it 1:44pm on the west coast. It is the repetition of the numbers that stopped me and sent me to the internet. Lately I’ve been having a very special relationship with a sequence of numbers so my number radar is on high alert.

In numerology, 11, 22, and 33 are called master numbers and when they are found in a birth chart they carry significant and powerful implications. I am not a numerologist nor am I an astrologist but I like the notion that I will experience the equinox on the 22nd at 3:44pm.

From my brief internet search I found the master number 22 is the most potent and pragmatic of numbers. It signifies the translation of wild dreams into concrete success. I read that it is an ambitious but disciplined number. I’m particularly fond of this suggestion because I intend the coming year to be the era in which my wild dreams become concrete success and how lovely to cross that threshold on the autumnal equinox. Whether or not you hold any worth or meaning in numerology, the power of intention is undeniable and I appreciate the serendipity of the numbers in support of my intention.

In a birth chart, the master number 44 signals Opportunity. It signifies a great quest for knowledge. Through this number opportunities come as though they were road signs along your life path. The Alchemists appreciated this number as the signal of a visionary. I wrote a few days ago about closing my studio and I have always delighted that my studio number was (4)422. It is enough to say that, in these past few years, the road signs hammered me and my eyes were so crossed by hammering that my vision was blurry. So, I appreciate the obvious nature of the opportunities implied in the number 44 and look forward to kinder, gentler road signs and already welcome the return of clarity of vision.

909. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

For a humorous look at the wonderful world of innovation and new ventures, check out my new comic strip Fl!p and the gang at Fl!p Comics.

Step In Front Of The Canvas

I used to stand in front of a blank canvas, clear my mind, and look for the painting that was waiting for me to draw it out. Mostly, but not always, there was an image waiting for me. It was like a very shy animal staring back at me. I would coax it forward and it would slowly reveal itself to me. The act of painting was the act of following the signals. If I moved too fast the image would retreat. It drew me out as I drew the image forward. As it advanced, coming into the light, the image would shapeshift. It would try to frighten me. It would test my agility and capacity to pursue it. Finally, after it had tested my respect for it and gained respect for me, the image would rest, give up the chase and open. In that moment we merged. I was the art and the art was me. Many hours would pass in a single moment. Time was no longer fixed. None of the usual rules of life applied.

This sounds like a strange and reactive process until you consider that I spent days stretching and preparing the canvas. I prepared myself, too. I opened the portal and chose the moment to step in front of the canvas, brush in hand, and issue the call. Sometimes the animal that came forward was aggressive, sometimes magical, and sometimes swift. Always it was dedicated to opening a portal in me. Art is like that. Art opens portals in people.

Today I know without doubt that the world has at last become my studio. Each day is a blank canvas that holds a unique gift and demands one from me in return. It is a portal that I open that, in turn, opens me. It calls me to the center. I’ve spent a lifetime preparing this canvas. Each morning I step forward into the day and so begins a unique relationship with this vast field of possibilities shimmering in front of me – as it teases forward the vast field of possibilities within me. Life is like that. Life opens possibilities in people.

[903. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.]

For a humorous look at the wonderful world of innovation and new ventures, check out my new comic strip Fl!p and the gang at Fl!p Comics.

Wake Up To A New World

891. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

“It isn’t explanations that carry us forward, it’s our desire to go on.” Paolo Coello, Brida

I had a very late night. Combined with a very early flight I had no choice but to sleep my way across the country. Not only did I wake up in a different city, a different time zone, a different climate, I also felt as if I woke up into a different lifetime. I was away for a very long time. In that time I traveled by car across seven states in less than 24 hours. I stood in the pouring rain. I heard thunder roll without ceasing for over 15 minutes. I drank too much wine, ran from a skunk, loaded a truck with furniture and boxes, played poorly a ukulele, laughed until I had to sit down, cleaned a pond of leaves and debris, put my feet in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, fell asleep on the sugar white sands of the beach, danced like it was the last day of my life, ate when I was hungry, walked at midnight almost every night, sang a James Taylor song over and over, and took a load of treasured shoes to the salvation army. In that time, Tom died and I was inundated with calls from people who wanted me to know. Friends long lost reached out to me to wrap me in their warmth and condolences. I had conversations of grief and celebration while standing on a pier, sitting on a park bench, riding in a car, sitting in my bed, and walking through the leaves fallen too early. I took off my shoes so I could feel them crunch beneath my feet.

When I stepped off the plane I entered into a familiar airport but it seemed as if it was familiar from another lifetime. I knew the place but was no longer the person who knew the place. I stood in SeaTac for a few moments and wondered if I was dreaming. People raced passed me. They had flights to catch and family to meet. I was in the way so I stepped to the side. I kept waiting for the scene to change. I kept waiting to wake up but I didn’t so I wandered through the airport, I taught a tourist how to buy a light rail ticket, I bought one for myself and rode the train into downtown.

Once, many years ago, I visited my elementary school and although everything was as it had been when I was a boy, it all seemed so small. As I walked from the train station to my studio I had the same impression. This place has become small. Or I have grown and what once seemed boundless now feels tight and confining. Standing in my studio, I opened the windows to let in the air, I remembered Carol saying, “I’ve broken up with the world. I want a whole new relationship with it so I’ve let the old relationship go.” That’s it, I think. I have broken up with the world. I’m not going to wake up from this dream because I woke up into this dream. While I was gone I let the old world go. I can’t explain it. I have new eyes. I’ve awakened to an opportunity for a whole new relationship with the world.

Dream And Follow

869. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Patti used to say that she refused to make business cards because a business card was a commitment. Say it and you will have to walk it. I’ve learned in the past several months that entrepreneurs resist talking to potential customers for fear of learning that their idea – their dream – may not have merit. Today Sean said it best: people are afraid of failing at their dream so they find a thousand reasons not to pursue it.

Dreams can be deferred but they will not be denied. A dream rejected becomes a knot in the belly. A dream ignored becomes low-grade anxiety, heart palpitation, road rage, a good reason to drink too much, an investment in notions like perfection or not-good-enough, a deathbed regret. Ignore a dream and it will twist and block all flow.

“What if…?” is a powerful question when in reference to the future. It is a call to action, a fount of possibility, an imagination tickler. “What if…? is equally powerful question when in reference to the past. No action is possible. It is an imagination tormentor. it is an abdication of responsibility to your self.

It is an old adage: the only certain road to failure is to not try. Failure is an abstraction. It is a construct that exists only as a story in your mind. It is an investment in what other people might think. Hint: other people have their own dreams and usually if they are negative about your dream it is because they are ignoring theirs; they need allies in their impotence.

As Tom used to say, “A painter paints.” A Painter does not succeed or fail. A painter paints and becomes a better painter. Failure is not an option when you are following your dream. Success is not an option when you are following your dream. Dreams do not dally with failure or success. Dreams call. All that is required is to follow, to grow, to learn, to live. To love.

Be Very Human

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Being human is messy. We are a mass of contradictions. We say one thing and mean another. We hold others to standards that we do not ourselves hold. We change our minds. We often hear but rarely listen. We misunderstand, miscommunicate, mistake, and simply miss. We judge and run and hide and then pretend that we have courage and conviction. Sometimes we do. Mostly we have courage when we don’t try to have it; courage usually feels like terror. Conviction shows up when there is a distinct absence of dogma.

And we learn. We try again. And again. We gaze at the next hill and wonder what is beyond it. We get back up after being knocked to the ground. We are eternally hopeful even if we do not see it. We reach. We take another step. We desire to get better, be better. We want to know. We read self help books and aspire to create a better world. We want fulfillment and peace.

Recently I watched an irate woman frost a birthday cake. I thought the cake looked fine but she was fuming with herself, thinking she should have done better. When I asked why she was so upset she cried, “Because it matters!” It is the little things that matter. It is the small stuff that rings our humanity.

Another day and I wade through the muck. In the mire I had a conversation that upset me. She saw me retreat and said, “Come back out again.”

I said, “No!” and pouted like a five year old refusing to eat broccoli. I shook my head to emphasize my resolve.

She said, “Please. Please come out.” I looked up and realized that she was not trying to hurt me and that I was being silly. I stepped out from behind my steely resolve. No one wants to be in a shell. We reach toward each other even when it looks like refusal.

We humans are optimistic. We tip toward love even in the midst of the murkiest moments. Lurking beneath the phrase, “I don’t know how I am going to get through it,” is the faith that transformation is not only possible but it is imminent. We get through it every time and we never know how. We understand how only after we have done it. The stuff of life is in forging the path through it. And then we are changed; we are better for the slog.

“Step into the love. Move toward it.” I said. She was hurting. When she scowled I added, “It is all that I know how to do.”

She said, “That sounds like a phrase from Saint Michael! It’s not very human.”

In fact, it is the very thing that makes us human. To step the other way is a path to nowhere. And I know in her despair that she said one thing and meant another. We are both humans. We are messy. Transformation is imminent.

Root And Reach

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Here’s a simple image that came to me from Megan-the-brilliant. She and I have been having an extended conversation about roots and hope. She told me that roots are filled with hope. The green plant that grows from the hope-root is an expression of faith. Hope reaches into the earth providing a sturdy basis for faith to reach into the sky.

Both are nourished in their reaching. Hope is fed from reaching deep into the warm, fecund earth. Faith is fed bountifully by opening its green leaves to the sun and drinking deep draughts of light. The earth nourishment is released into the sky while the sunlight is pulled into the earth via the hope-root.

One cannot live without the other. They are, in fact, not separate even though it would seem that they reach in opposite directions and are nourished from seemingly different sources. The separations do not exist. The root-hope and plant-faith are in fact a single organism – as are the earth and sky. The separation lives only in our language and necessity to distinguish the parts.

Taste. Test.

762. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Many years ago I spent most of my time in the studio. I spent hours each day alone with my paintings and my thoughts. I’d go out at noon to get food. Later in the evening my friend Albert would meet me for coffee. He knew I would twist and fall into my self if I wasn’t forced to emerge and speak to other humans. He was right. The life of a painter is a lonely existence. In addition to my gypsy tendencies I used to tend toward the hermit and it was wise and loving friends like Albert that saved me from myself. Now my inner gadfly has the keys to my personality; I just can’t leave people alone.

I had occasion to go through old journals this afternoon. It is a quirk of mine that my personal and work journals are one-and-the-same. I’ve never understood the separation between working and not working, playing and not playing. I’ve tried to explain that to the IRS to no avail. Apparently one must separate oneself to be in compliance with the regulations. My life is my work. Megan told me that I am purpose driven and she is right. So sorting through old journals is a funny affair because I’ve collaged dream imagery with workshop notes with thoughts about paintings with personal insights with notes from calls. And, since I’ve never learned what the lines on the paper are used for, my notes go in multiple directions. Ask me which came first and I will squint and turn the journal upside down. I also noticed that I sometimes start an entry on the right hand page and then move to the left hand page – essentially moving one step back before taking two steps forward. I refuse to entertain this journal practice as a life metaphor. I intend to lie to the IRS if they ever ask me about my journaling. I am linear, linear, linear.

I opened a journal from 2009 and found this thought from Ana-The-Wise: For every child everything is new and unknown. They see with the eyes of the new and that is okay. For the child, it is all unknown and so it all must be tasted and tested.

We dull our palates. Last night in class a man asked me what is the point of courting chaos once you’ve made order of your world. He liked order. Arriving at order was his goal. I’d just finished telling the class that chaos is where innovation lives: if you are playing in the fields of the known you are not innovating. I edited my reply and stayed in the context of business and entrepreneurship. What I wanted to say was that, just as innovation, vitality and life are found in the unknown. Order is not a fixed state. It is fluid and flows toward chaos. Life is motion. Try and stop the movement and you will one day look up and wonder why your life has no meaning. You’ll wonder where you lost your passion.

Ana-The-Wise spoke truly: it is all unknown and so it must be tasted and tested. I’ve not yet lived tomorrow and I will miss it if I think I know what’s coming. There is so much to be tasted, so much that begs to be tested.

Step Away

761. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

The actions necessary to create change are often counterintuitive. For instance, increased efficiency comes from moving slower, not from speeding up. Great love stories are filled with examples of the counterintuitive. For instance, the time and space between Odysseus and Penelope made their love powerful. Yearning creates closeness. Missing heightens appreciation. Being away from home is the best way to fully appreciate home. Perspective is gained by stepping away.

The point of a pilgrimage is to find the essential, to inhabit the center. You must journey to be still. Not to hammer too hard on a cliché but life is a pilgrimage of sorts. We walk a path that is both well known and well trod by previous generations – we know the end of the story – and yet the path we walk is unique, completely individual and surprising. I will live the metaphors in my way, experience the cycles of death and rebirth, know order because I have experienced chaos, and only live fully if I know that my time here is limited. Boredom is only available to those who have forgotten that they will someday die.

I have been wandering for months. Each day I recognize how little in this life I actually control. My wandering has brought into crystal clarity what is important and what is not. Wandering is a great way to become found. Tonight I taught a class for entrepreneurs and did the opposite of what I know to be useful; I strayed far from experience and kept them locked in analyzing and abstractions so although the discussion was interesting, it was not very useful. I stepped away and affirmed what I know in my heart to be true. Talking about life is not living, talking about learning is not learning, and talking about love is not loving. The experience must come first in order for the talking to be useful.

Amplify The Possibilities

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Vanessa’s business is called Visual Minutes. She draws conversations. She maps discussions. She and a colleague, Amber, mapped the recent Transformational Presence Summit in Vught, Holland that Alan and I facilitated. Her work was gorgeous, informative and inspiring. The dynamic of a group changes when there is an artist working in the room. When a group’s words and thoughts serve as the source of a communal image, something shifts. A loop forms: people visit the image during breaks. They take ownership of what emerges. The images inspire conversations and the conversations show up as images. The resonance amplifies the possibilities.

Over the four days of our summit the mural began to stretch around the room. Soon, we were surrounded by our conversation; the four walls of the conference center were changed by Vanessa’s work; we no longer sat in a generic space but occupied a room specific to us, designed for and by us, a chronicle of our unique wisdom. The art transformed us. We were 35 people from 11 countries made one through our intention and the circle that the art invoked.

Vanessa shared with me a letter written to her from Canadian artist Robert Genn. She thought it might tickle my imagination. He writes about artists as a tribe (a universal tribe). Here are three snippets from the letter worthy of tickling the imagination and also descriptive of Vanessa’s gift to the world:

“The idea that art has the ability to rise above religion, nationality and race is well understood.”

“…I get the idea that art might even be a vehicle for peace. We artists certainly bring a worldview based on respect, observation, play, learning, celebration and mutuality. In the machinations of humanity, these traits must surely hold some value.”

“We dine at a table of many nations. As artists we celebrate our creative joy and toast our mutual humanity. While we all speak with some sort of accent, we do so in the universal language of art. At your table, when you get a chance, please consider raising a glass to our tribe. It is a tribe beyond tribes, and in my heart of hearts I believe our tribe has an illustrious future.”