Purpose

Ever wonder what your purpose for existing is?
Ever wonder why you are here?

The answer is surprisingly simple: Your passion is your purpose.

The not so simple part is figuring out what you are passionate about.
The hard part is actually committing yourself to pursuing your passion.
The really hard part is doing it.
The next hardest part is doing it regardless of how crazy it seems to you.
The hardest of all is committing yourself to your passion when your friends and family think it's crazy too.

The best life you can have is in doing it regardless and thus you justify your existence.

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Countermanding Success

A touch of fatalism has set in since I got back to NB from my “vacation” that was two pampered weeks of doing little more than reading, writing and pushing a button to produce espresso.

While on vacation at my friend’s place, I was able to avoid the usual drudgery of domesticity. The only laundry to wash was my own, dishes were plunked in a dishwasher as compared to me plunking my hands in a dishpan twice a day, floors were ignored as the broom had been used the previous week to sweep mouse droppings from the garage and a replacement had not yet been acquired, likely hasn’t been yet. I did the nice thing and cleaned the bathrooms, as much for my own sanity and good sanitation as anything. Stripped the most gawdawful wallpaper border out of the master bath, face it, my friend writes about war, he’s not into pussycats, moonbeams, sunflowers and butterflies, unless they have something to do with Cold War and Nukes, of which I have yet to find evidence.

Even cooking was off my radar for the most part, he barbeques, he makes good bacon & eggs and uses a microwave like a pro. Life was easy, get up, get caffeinated, breakfast (either being cooked or I had breakfast kibbles as desired), either stay put and write or read on a warm sunny deck or toddle off to the local Starbuck’s for the morning round of writing. Lunch was either in or out, as was supper. Movie and/or conversation in the evenings, if we weren’t out with friends. Lost weight while I was there too, no snacking, it’s a surprisingly easy habit to break when there isn’t any being brought in the house. The only regret is not finishing off the bottle of Shiraz that is likely still sitting where I left it on the kitchen sideboard 2 weeks ago.

This schedule was surprisingly productive for me, I finished a couple of pen & ink drawings that had been sitting untouched for months, wrote both a lot of prose and poetry (a lot of it real bad though). Took photographs, none worth much of a mention, and did a lot of planning that may result in some good presentations if I finish them.

The fatalism in my case is the result of too many years of habit that has grown into the expectation that certain things will be so for the remainder of this household. It is a hard pattern to break and here I am noon time with the dishes from last evening’s grazing (after supper snacking) and this morning’s breakfasts done. Two loads of laundry washed and out on the line, as compared to the simple act of tossing them in a dryer, a clean bathroom (well almost). Bed made, neatly as compared to tossing the comforter on top and leaving it, clothes picked up again vs. being tossed into piles and sorted through only as necessary to find the T-shirt that is wanted or clean undies. It’s not my partner that expects this of me. It is me that expects this because I expect that the remainder of the household members expect this of me.

So again, here I am at noon with nothing more done for myself than email checks, news updates, espresso in hand at last, and I am now thinking about what to make for supper so that it is on the table for 5:30. I have approximately 4 hours to myself at this point to work on my art, and I wonder why I never seem to think that I can get full day in, in the studio.

The insanity of this is that I thought that things might change when I got back, I didn’t, though now I recognize that this is not a productive pattern for me, as an artist that wishes to make the most of my day. Just because the studio is across the driveway from the house doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be in it and it doesn’t mean that it is a less important job than that of the people that leave home to go to school or drive 10 minutes to their business or 20 minutes to their job.

I have to relearn that this is not how my day needs to be, and I have to change my own expectations in regards to domestic duties taking precedence over all of my arts. Their clean knickers do not sell at a show, a spotless bath is not a picture to frame, and it doesn’t make me a happier or more productive person, especially when productivity is a large part of how I define success.

So for any of you that have actually followed this post to this point, the question is this: what are you doing that countermands your definition of success and therefore is actually holding you back from achieving it?

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Spring

A selection of spring narcissus and daffodils:


Salmon pink daffodils:


Trout Lilies or Dog Tooth Violets:


Rhododendron in bloom buzzing with bees:


Painted Trilliums:


My favorite fluffy yellow and orange daffodil:


Maple leaves just starting out:


An early narcissus:

Pileated Woodpecker totem: