In the face of so much suffering in the world, it can seem almost wrong to stop and celebrate creativity. And yet, perhaps that is an important response. To hold those suffering in our prayers, to offer our help and care, and to create spaces for beauty and joy in the world.
It was an honor to do a third annual music and art night with Michelle Chapin. She has a authenticity, wit and joy to her music that is infectious.
Doing another art show is such an honor and a joy and a mystery in my life. I genuinely maintain the sense of surprise as I did at the first show of how did I get to be here?
Many of you know my story (or parts of it) and here is a recap.
I was diagnosed in February 2013 with Thyroid Cancer. In some ways this is a 'great cancer' and it really is because the outcomes are so good. And yet as anyone who has navigated Thyroid Cancer will tell you there are some significant hardships financial, surgeries, lifetime maintenance etc. And there is the actual treatment. For me it included a total thyroidectomy and because the cancer was found in my lymph nodes Radioactive Iodine treatment, my dose required 7 days in isolation.
In anticipation of that time of isolation I decided (if I was feeling well enough) that I would paint. I hadn't painted in more than 3 years at this time in my life. And I also wanted to up the game. So I bought a canvas more than 3x bigger than anything I'd painted before.
A memory came to me so vividly the other day was the moment of being handed the pill. A friend brought me to the hospital. I was in the waiting room of the Nuclear Medicine department (close to the exit!) and they called my name. I had already had pre-procedure meetings where I was oriented to safety precautions etc. So this really was just a 'swallow a pill' and leave' moment. They led me to a back room. The technician put on gloves for protection. They opened a lead box. They opened a small lead container in that box. They used tongs of some sort and picked up the pill. They put it in a cup and handed it to me. To swallow. I remember that moment and really thinking I might just run from the room, department, building screaming and never look back. And of course that would be embarrassing. But also I needed to face this moment. I had my blank canvas in my friend's home waiting for me. I took a breath and I swallowed. Then they ushered me out of the space about as quickly as possible.
And I was alone. And my painting journey began.
That was two and a half years ago. I thought it would be my first and last time painting big.
And yet something awakened for me in that time. And I choose to honor it. To not have to be sick or going through a treatment to get to paint.
I've now completed more than 90 large paintings. 22 of which are hanging at BeWell Cafe today.
I will tell you that now that I have developed a habit and even (gasp) a bit of a career around painting. I look back and wonder why I wasn't painting long ago? And the only thing I can come up with was that I wasn't good enough, or rather others were better. I had no respect for how painting transformed ME I only had comparison and insecurity that others were much better and therefore I wouldn't paint. To me this now seems absurd, but somehow this just made sense to my young mind.
Now I compare it to running. If someone tells you they are a runner, do you ask "Oh did you win an Olympic gold?" No. We know that we run because it is healthy for our bodies, our minds. We do not expect to be the best at exercise. We do it anyway. I think creativity is the same. Or rather that it should be. It should not be about our external performance, comparison, but honoring the inner transformation that takes place.
For me painting is a time of meditation, transformation. I have especially enjoyed working on commissioned pieces. I see commissions as a chance to connect with someone in a meaningful way. Not only am I being vulnerable by creating a piece for them, but I invite people to be vulnerable and share with me how I can hold them in prayer. it is my experience that every prayer someone asks for always has relevance for me, and I end up holding the other person, myself and really each of us in that prayer.
I have been reflecting recently on the poet Kabir's words: "wherever you are is the entry point." And it is my hope and prayer that for each of us, no matter what struggle we are going through or if something new is opening or expanding we might remember that this place can be an entry point into more compassion and creativity.