Believe [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

believe ornament copy

Kerri just said, “I think I’d believe more if I had another glass of wine.” After I was done laughing (and getting her another glass of wine), I realized that belief is too often like that – contingent on circumstance.

When I was a wee lad (seriously, this stuff ran rampant around my little kid brain), I’d wonder what happened the day after the bloody battle when both sides raged about god being on their side. What do you need to reconcile when your team loses? Why do you need to win to confirm your belief? A side note, another of those rampant ramblings  racing through of my too tiny skull (no wonder my parents were at a loss of what to do with me)  – this one is to really get me in trouble: if your god takes sides, chooses a team or otherwise reinforces a separation from the whole, how can you not see that it must be a very small god indeed? For perspective, an existential reboot, go outside and look at the stars and understand what you are seeing. No sides. Beyond comprehension.

Conditional belief. It is run amok.

If our capacity for belief was not conditional, what might we actually believe? Who might we become if we understood that we are expressions of this great universe and that this great universe was cheering for us and those rowdy huzzahs  had nothing to do with our winning or losing, with borders or righteousness or rules or books or councils or sexual orientation or money or the color of our skin? Or beliefs. Every atom a delight. Every creation a miracle. Would we be hope-full?  Would ‘the enemy’ look the same through the eyes of unconditional belief?

I know. Pie-in-the-sky thinking. Only a child could believe so completely, so unconditionally in…goodness.

Anything is possible if you just believe.

[note: this beautiful ornament was a gift that came atop a container of ‘slushy’ – a life giving concoction brewed in Dan’s secret laboratory and delivered each year to my squeals of delight. If my belief is conditional it is Dan’s fault and I blame Gay for not reining him in. She found this beautiful ornament so I also blame this post on her generosity and good taste. These two people make me believe wholeheartedly, without condition, in goodness].

 

read Kerri’s more coherent blog post on BELIEVE

 

dogga in snow website box copy

 

Reach To The Light

TODAY’S FEATURED IDEA FOR HUMANS

Reach To The Light

FOR TODAY’S FEATURED PRINT FOR HUMANS, GO HERE.

Stop Pretending

666. 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’s First Thursday in Seattle which means this is the night that artist’s all over town open their studios. My studio is on the fourth floor of a very large building so it is the hearty soul that troops to the top after so many floors of art. Tonight, I forgot that it was First Thursday (I’ve been traveling and am about to leave again so I’m disoriented) and was surprised when Andre showed up at my door to see art. At first I was confused but he explained that many more people were coming up the stairs so I might want to pretend that I knew they were coming. So I did. I opened my door and pretended that I knew what was coming.

While I was pretending that I knew-what-was-coming I started wondering how often in my daily life do I trick myself into thinking that I know what is coming. The answer: most of the time! Isn’t that the very thing that wraps a dull blanket around the magic of being alive? To pretend that we know when, in fact, we can never know what’s coming. To pretend that we know is to stop seeing. To expect the same-old-thing is to miss the extraordinary and new. As I sat in my chair waiting for the hordes to ascend the stairs I realized that I am not a fortuneteller nor am I a prophet, despite my consistent investment in pretending that I am. And, when I stopped pretending that I knew what was coming the most amazing thing happened: I was completely delighted and surprised by every person who made it to the top floor and stopped by to see my paintings. It’s so easy to drop the dull blanket and see what’s in front of me instead of what I pretend is there.

Touch With Your Eyes

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

Last night was first Thursday in Seattle, the night that all the artists open their studios, the galleries and museums stay open late and people come to see what’s new. It was a cold rainy night so the crowds were small but steady. One incredible mother brought her five-year-old daughter to see the art and meet the artists. I heard them coming before I saw them. The little girl was ecstatic! “Mommy!!!! I SEE PEOPLE IN THAT PAINTING!!!” She squealed. Her very calm mother replied, “I see them too. Make sure you touch with your eyes and not with your hands.”

If the first exchange wasn’t enough to slay me with delight, the little girl’s reply killed me outright. She said, “Mommy! My eyes love touching paintings!” They stepped into my door and the little girl brought her hands to her cheeks in disbelief. My studio was suddenly better than the North Pole; I was more intimidating than Santa Claus. She squealed and twirled in circles and announced to me that she was only going to touch the paintings with her eyes. I asked, “What does it make your eyes feel when you touch the paintings?” She squealed and shook, sat down, and put her hands over her eyes.

Her mother looked at me and said, “That means it feels really good.” The little girl nodded her head, looked at her mom and flung open her arms, “LET’S GO TOUCH ALL THE PAINTINGS!” And in a blur she disappeared out into the hall. Her mother smiled and said, “Which one should we touch first?”