Surf Uncertainty [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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I love this image. It is a visual of the burning point. For me, it captures a singular truth in life. You can’t control the wave, but you can learn to ride it. So, be in it. Ride it.

I can already hear Kerri in my mind saying, “What the heck does that mean?” Go outside tonight and look at the night sky. If you understand what you are seeing you might realize how little in this life you actually control. Mostly, in this moment of life, we surf the unknown, whether we recognize it or not. We can deny it or we can learn to ride the wave of constant change. Trying to control it is a recipe for misery.

Happiness ensues when you learn to distinguish between what you control and what you cannot. Surfing life is the art of riding the uncontrollable wave and enjoying the ride.

Enjoy SURF UNCERTAINTY gifts and products

read Kerri’s blog post on LEARNING TO SURF UNCERTAINTY

www.kerrianddavid.com

learn to surf uncertainty/designs ©️ 2016/18 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Attempt What Is Not Certain

Revelry

A painting from the archives. This one goes way back…

“Attempt what is not certain. Certainty may or may not come later. It may then be a valuable delusion.” Richard Diebenkorn, Notes To Myself On Beginning A Painting

Yesterday we went to Linda and Jim’s house to do some Irish dancing. They are terrific and dedicated dancers – with a dance floor in their basement – and thought it would be fun to teach their pals a waltz cotillon. It was, as they suspected, a riot of laughter, wrong-direction, toe-stepping and left-footed-entanglements. We drank wine, ate snacks, and found ourselves boldly waltz-stepping into the great unknown. 20 called it “an afternoon of happy insanity.”

All my life I’ve been fascinated at what happens to (and for) people when they open themselves to new experiences. Generosity rises. When people allow themselves to step outside of their safe-place, challenge their need to control and open to the new, they come alive. I mean that literally. They come into the present moment, out of their obsession with replaying the past and fearing/manipulating the future, and into the place where life actually happens. Now. It is the artist’s job to open the door to the place where life happens. It is the door Linda and Jim opened for us yesterday.

Krishnamurti wrote, “Have you ever noticed that when you respond to something totally, with all your heart, there is very little memory?” Horatio and I have an ongoing conversation about art and artistry. Lately, we’ve been discussing how completely we disappear when working on a canvas. Hours go by and it feels like minutes. And, more to the point, we don’t disappear, we become present. We show up. We experience the fullness of life at the burning point. Time, that grand master of illusion, disappears.

After our dancing, standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine, I heard, “Where did the time go?” We were revitalized and giddy, compatriots and survivors of a journey into the surprises of the unknown. I smiled when there rose a rowdy chorus of, “When can we do it again?” Life had burst through – as it wants to do – and left its charge.