My heart started beating a little faster when I heard it: The sound of the geese flying past my house, on their way south.
I was sitting on my porch this morning, candle lit, wrapped in my favorite afghan. With my eyes closed, my heart could feel what my ears were registering, and for that brief moment, it wasn’t my own thoughts.
It was the realization that this is the first time I’ve heard the geese. It was the appreciation that the morning is growing darker with each day that passes, and the chill in the early morning air is increasing. It was a reminder that the season is once again changing, and life will keep going.
Early mornings in solitude on my porch is one of the few things that remains absolutely consistent in my daily routine now that I don’t have babies to feed or children to get out the door to school.
It’s a chance to listen to my heart and align my day ahead with what it is I want to do to bring joy both to myself and to others.
On days I let my mind take over, my body tightens. I consider the projects I could be using this time on. I think of the laundry that needs to get done. I go through all the “shoulds” of the day.
But on days when I let my heart guide the way, I hear the geese. I witness the fog lifting across the road from our house, unveiling a dew-soaked field. I get a front row seat to the changing of the seasons; the shifting of the light; the cyclical sounds of nature.
And each time I let myself just be in the moment, I know that this is not just how I want to live; it’s how I want to paint.
My heart is saying: Paint this feeling. Paint this shift. Paint with this ritual language that nature is speaking, and don’t try so hard to be good.
Last week, I sent a note to my mentor, Lori Putnam. I told her my struggle: I continue to have this thing, this affliction where I find myself constantly asking myself if I’m good enough.
Her answer is one I will remember forever: “Hmm, is it good enough? Good enough for…??? Nothing I paint is good enough for me to like it, even one day later. That’s both the struggle and the incentive, isn’t it?”
I, like most of the artists I know, am my own harshest critic. I struggle to consider my work good enough… and I am incentivized by the relentless pursuit to keep learning; to keep experimenting; to keep creating.
As I try to during my early mornings on the porch, I need to let my heart guide the process. Paint from the feelings. Appreciate the surroundings. Let my whole body listen.
If we could all give ourselves this gift of really listening, even if just in small pockets throughout the day, perhaps we could all resist the temptation to do more and just be.
With each season comes a reminder that life will keep going. Here in the Finger Lakes, the leaves will turn in the coming weeks; the days will grow even darker; the air will become chillier.
I want to grab hold of it all. I want to appreciate the moment and keep moving toward the joy that awaits me in the future.
And in 10 years, I want to look back just as I do now and think: Wow, how far I’ve come.
I want the same for you.
P.S. By the way, my favorite mug for my morning coffee was made by an artist friend, Jessie in the Bristol Hills of NYS. Check out her work right here. ☕️