When does patience turn to procrastination?
   For weeks now (almost) I have been plotting a painting onto a canvas. Thoughtfully, decisively, carefully, consciously, marking each line. Deliberately.
   It is a large canvas. It had to be; this is a big project.
   I have not painted in oils for decades. I’ve thought about it (a lot), and this pandemic seemed to provide opportunity, or an outlet, to make it happen.
   I was slow getting started, but 12 days ago I finally began taking the design from my head and mapping it out.
   I was incrementally inspired.
   I am now at the point — actually, I am hesitating — where I need to mix my medium, take up my brush and begin to apply colour to the canvas.
   But really, for days now, I stare at the lines on the white surface and I see what it could be, but only in my mind.
   Is this now a mental block?
   Like the lines on the surface, I am at the intersection of design, desire, and fear.
   That’s it: fear.
   It is not fear of starting (because, technically, I have begun) but there is the fear of this not looking as I imagined it would look.
   Exactly.
   Can I be that exacting? Will this work live up to my expectations or will it be even better than I imagined?
   There is that doubt.
   Right now, I can only know the unknown. That invokes this fear.
   This is how I struggle, linearly, creatively, even spiritually, when I take on any artistic project.
   Hesitation.
   I keep talking myself out of the next step. Is it lack of confidence; or is it lack of control?
   I have come to know myself. I know, knowing myself, that the moment I mix the paint, the moment I apply some life to the canvas, what has only been a project will become an obsession. It is the way I am with all things creative.
   I know, or I feel, the initial underpainting will pull me in.
   If I — and I will — take the next step, will it take me further from, or closer to the realization that I am an artist?
   If it takes time, that time is now. Today.

© 2021 j.g. lewis

Do you feel stuck where you are?

Are you content with your state of being: emotionally, physically or spiritually?

Can you tell the difference between a routine and a rut?

Do you do what is expected, or intended? Are you surprised when you don’t?

Over and over we settle for the words, or the life, presented to us.

Change is always possible, but it has to begin within.

It is easy to take the same steps or drive the same route, to do, again, what you did yesterday.

It is not always comfortable. It is not always right.

It is a habit.

We are limited by habits, and patterns, no matter how routine. No matter how uncomfortable.

Are you comfortable with change to your lifestyle or living situation?

Has it become too comfortable?

Are you ready for change? Have you even thought about it?

Have you settled?

 

©2019 j.g. lewis

     Scarcely a whisper,

            a breath, a slight breeze, and
         the seeds will scatter

                               effortlessly.

      We only know where we can go;
         when we allow the wind will take us.

If we submit ourselves to unknown persuasion,

     in time
                   we evolve.

         Savour the journey
    settle when you are able.

Plant roots,

             grow and blossom.

     Show us your natural beauty.

Is it the sunset you enjoy, or the shadows it casts? Have you stopped for a moment to
figure it out?
   In reality, it is how you choose to see it.
   Perception changes, and you with it. It is not the reverse. To shift your perspective
requires an influence, but despite what you hear, read or see, the viewpoint of the world
surrounding you will come from within.
   Yes, we listen to others: educators, politicians, salesmen or solicitors, and whether we
are told that the world is flat, which automobile is the safest, or how a policy will dramatically reduce carbon emissions over the next decade, it is the personal processing
of this information that will determine your ultimate answe
   We, all too often, rely on the words of others when trying to understand anything
around us.   Explanation involves thinking outside of yourself and considering the
consequences, values and benefits. In trying to listen to the flood of information coming
at you, it is assumed knowledge that will form your opinion.
   What if I told you that when watching a sunset, you are actually paying more attention
to the clouds, than you are to the actual Sun? Would you stop for a moment and wonder
what you’ve always taken in?
   The Sun never changes (well, not in immediate terms); it burns, full power, 24 hours a
day. We see it more or less, depending on where we are located in relation to the time of
the year. It is us that moves and not the sun
   The Sun, quite boring really, is always there. Always in the same place. It’s always
round, always bright, and generates radiation that is constant, and powerful enough to
light up this world and any other star, planet and galaxy in the universe.
   As it appears to dip below the horizon at the end of each day, the Sun setting is not your focus. All those colours and the glorious view you scramble to capture on your camera or mobile device is more the result of the Sun’s light reflecting and refracting through the atmosphere, precipitation or condensation, or the puffy polluted haze of our ever expanding cities.
   The view is altered, mostly by your perception. It is still the same Sun it was hours
earlier, it is still doing the same bloody thing, but somehow it is more beautifu
   Perception.
   The Sun glows, alters the shade of buildings, the shadows of trees, and even makes
common weeds, like dandelions, appear magical.
   Perspective. It is how we see things. More importantly how we see ourselves, and how
we connect with the context.
   Our greatest strength should be admitting we don’t know everything and being open to learning what we need to know. Change comes with knowledge, and challenging yourself comes with connecting to your soul, investigating your id and ego and, through the process, discovering your own mythos.
   Seek answers, or self-explanation for who you are, and why you do what you do.
Discover solutions, or check your hypothesis for why something didn’t turn out the way
it was supposed to, or why success is likely, in whatever area you chose.
   Context.
   You can make things happen, but you need to unearth what is happening and why.
Those are answers you won’t get from teachers, lawyers or policy wonks. You may not
even find the answers within, but you will be stronger for looking.
   The inner voice is an inner choice.

 ©2017 j.g. lewis

 

Now well into May, April remains a hangover with the dread of inaction and poor choices resonating into this month. This New Moon is required; a new phase is drastically needed on my piece of the planet.

A New Moon allows us to step forward to another phase, a new day launching into another week of a month that really hasn’t started yet. April’s chill remains, as does old intentions now tainted, even rancid, with feelings of disappointment and non-accomplishment.

I didn’t increase my daily steps last month. Yes, I well surpassed the requisite 10,719 daily steps on average, but my mileage has not increased much from January on.

I did not complete the two books I started reading in April with strong intentions of finishing each well before the 30-day self-imposed deadline.

I did not write daily in my journal, nor did I make the planned progress on editing my manuscript. Even my poetry was nowhere near as prolific as it ought to be, especially during poetry month, so it was a disappointment to me.

I also didn’t make any progress on my oil painting. I bought a huge canvass a little over a month ago, just before we went into another COVID-19 lockdown. I had big plans of using my extra time to re-familiarize myself with the medium. The canvas remains pure and white, still wrapped in its protective plastic like a barrier between creativity and me.

In short, I did not meet my expectations. In fact, I feel I have even fallen short of my intentions. Why didn’t I do what I needed to do, or at least planned on doing?

It’s all too easy to blame it on this virus, or the weather; or the Moon.

Was the time not right, or was it simply me unwilling or unworthy of the self-care I feel I need? I tried, in some small measure, to push forward, but remained stuck in the month instead of moving with it. April is supposed to be about change (as is March and February before that).

It may happen soon. I still have goals, yes, but it seems more difficult with my April intentions still on the list. Perhaps I need the New Moon and the promise of the light ahead to see what I actually accomplished.

I should be proud of the fact, year over year, I actually doubled the number of steps I took in April 2020. It was then, just as COVID-19 was settling around us, that I decided each day should begin with a wander around the city I now call home. The simple goal of 10,000 steps a day quickly fell by the wayside.

Shouldn’t I be pleased that one year later I am still up early and stepping forward?

I should remember how much I enjoyed discovering where I now live and how I became more familiar with streets and sights. I should remember that having the art gallery as a destination, when it was open, kept me moving on some days.

I should remind myself that each of the books I am still reading continues to provoke new ideas and thoughts on a constant theme. I should remind myself that surely there is more inspiration in the pages ahead, and there are more books to read beyond that. I should remind myself that not being able to visit a library or bookstore has allowed me to take a closer look at the books I already have on my shelf.

I should question my priorities. Is it the number of books you read that counts, or is it the enjoyment and information you receive from each book? What counts? What matters?

I need to remind myself that last month I read more poetry than I usually do, and should not be displeased with the poetry I wrote during April’s poetry month. I felt I had to push myself a little harder, but still wrote every damn day. As a poet, I should remember that I don’t need to give myself permission to write from my current perspective.

In hindsight, my poetry – last month or otherwise – is a reflection of where I am.
Can you get any more honest than that? Honesty is the best poetry.

So, I should not be disappointed, but rather accept what came out of me. I should remind myself that expectations and goals are two separate and distinct things.

And I need to remind myself that the Moon exposes herself to us a little more each day, just as I do in my journal. We all go through phases.