Vee Dub Part II

This weekend we went to St. George for a family event. We left late at night amidst frustration and high levels of anxiety that were largely the result of to trying to cram four hours of work into half an hour of time and not succeeding. We left at 9:00 at night for a five hour drive. About half way there our lovely Vanagon broke down. Now, this wasn't a regular old break down like the ones we are used to. This was a major, not-going-anywhere, won't-even-start kind of breakdown. And it was late at night in the middle of nowhere and it was cold and raining. My superhero husband got out and worked on the dang donkey vehicle for an hour and a half, shivering in the rain and the mud. The rest of us huddled together inside, trying to keep warm. Finally it became obvious that we weren't going anywhere till morning. We pulled out the bed that is one of the redeeming qualities of the vanagon and tried to go to sleep. Unfortunately, because it was warm when we left and we were going somewhere even warmer, the only thing we had to keep us warm were a few baby blankets. I think it was inspiration that helped me remember to pack those. And it was cold. My feet were refrigerated all night long. We hardly slept. All I could think about all night long was pioneers, doing this kind of thing in the snow, with only flimsy tents or less for shelter. The other thing, besides the cold, that kept me awake was thinking about was my kids and trying to keep them warm. We kept our bodies smashed together to share body heat. (I woke up with the biggest kinks in my muscles.) I imagined how the pioneer mothers must have felt when their children cried out in the cold and there was nothing they could do to keep them warm. I just felt grateful that our situation wasn't worse. I even felt grateful for the opportunity to imagine on a more personal level what the pioneers went through.

The next morning Bryan's dad came and got us. He drove a long way alone in the early morning to get there by breakfast. He drove me and the children to get breakfast while Bryan had the vanagon towed to a shop (we were only 1 mile away from it!). By the time we got back from breakfast the vanagon was up and running again. Miraculously, the repair shop in the middle of nowhere had the exact part we needed and they figured out the problem on the first try. Miraculously.

So we continued on our way, really not much worse off for the adventure. Afton told me she liked sleeping in the cold vanagon all night on the side of the road. I asked her why and she said she felt like a pioneer. Funny.
We had a great time in St. George with all the family. It really was a lovely weekend.

All this got me thinking today. What if I would have been focused on the destination (outcome) instead of the journey (process)? It would have been a disaster. But I wasn't. By some tender mercy, I was really just living in the moment. I wasn't worried about what would happen next or fretting about how we should have done things differently to avoid this problem. I was just fully focused on the now, in the process. And that was what made it great.

Vee-Dub Love

My husband is a VW Vanagon enthusiast. He always has been, he probably always will be. That means for as long as I've known  him he has had car problems. He won't admit that, but its true. He always seems to think its some one-time fluke. I'm not sure why.

Anyway, all weekend he worked on his car. It was really hard work. When he was done he told me how exhausted he was and how all his muscles were sore. He originally thought it was going to be a quick job, but it took him all day. I could have predicted that.

Then when we were driving around on Sunday, he realized that all his work didn't fix the problem after all. Ughhh! I was pretty frustrated for him (and me). Amazingly, he didn't seem too frustrated himself. So while we were driving along with the dang wheel still squeeking and clunking, I was thinking, why does he spend so much of his free time on a car that is so much trouble? I mean, it does have some cool features, but really, it is so much trouble! There is always something wrong and he is constantly working on it. What kind of guy is like that?

Then it hit me!! The perfect guy for me!! He recognizes the value in something that requires effort that many people would consider not worth the trouble. He doesn't give up, even though his best efforts seem fruitless. He diligently and patiently works through the problems because he has a firm and undaunted belief that all his work will eventually pay off. He isn't a quitter. He is willing to work hard and sacrifice. He isn't easily angered. Could I ask for better qualities in a husband? I love that guy!

I've been Kershisniked

I found out that Kershisniked is an actual term people use to describe what happens when they discover Brian Kershisnik's paintings and fall in love with them. Here are a few of my favorite paintings by him: 

Gardening in the Rain
 This one is me when I try to control things in my life too much and forget that God has it covered already.

This Splendid Inconvenience

Lovers with Injuries

Women with Houses

Making Progress

Making Progress

Then I found this article by Brian Kershisnik and I think I loved that as much as I loved his paintings. Because he got it. He captured how I feel about being a therapist. It's a bit of a leap to translate what he said about being a painter into therapy work and being a therapist, but it totally works for me. 




I Know I Don't Know What I'm Doing

Utah Museum of Fine Arts Lecture
February 24, 2007
In a sense more profound than I can say, I don't know what I am doing. When people learn that I am a painter and ask me what I paint, I have difficulty answering. Usually the inquirers are seeking only a short answer and must be embarrassed or annoyed at my stumbles and what must look like attempts to conceal something. I used to acknowledge (only to myself) that I was stalling for the arrival of a clearer understanding, but gradually the reality of my authentic ignorance became clear to me. I hope that my responses since then have become less ridiculous and not less illuminating, and I will here make another attempt.
My current conclusion as to what I paint is that I don't know and I'm trying to be more at peace with the awkward reality. I do not mean by this that I think I am a bad painter. I am, in fact, one of my favorite painters. No one's artwork moves me as often to tears or laughter, insight and revelation, ecstatic discovery, and joyful or fearful views of the truth as does my own. No doubt this has something to do with the fact that I am heavily involved in its production. My experiences of surprise and discovery occur not because I am painting about something I have learned and am trying to explain but rather something I am trying to understand myself, the problem of being this particular human being in progress. I don't paint people to show who they are, but as part of trying to discover who they are, and I believe I fall in love with every one of them. The questions involved in a painting, if I know them at all, are very difficult to articulate. By acting with the tools of my trade I follow a hunch in search of a question and, in this process, often unexpectedly and even unintentionally, something of another world, of the other world, something of God leaks out. Then whether my abilities are frail or splendid, they are either way woefully inadequate and that is exactly where I want to be. Painting for me is anxious disciplined pursuit, trying to sense when and how much to get out of the way so that what is coming can come. It is not expected or even possible to remove myself completely. They are my hands, with my quirks, my weaknesses and capacities. It is my sense of humor or tragedy, composition, color or material. The benevolence, indifference, or even malevolence of each idea must be discerned in a process which can take days, weeks, or years. One's abilities can be and are often augmented but are seldom generated from nothing. We must bring all we have, and are seeking to improve, to the table. And through this salad of faith and work, one never does, must never, get it down or reduce it to an easily regurgitatable process. To do so would be to sever the unbilicus. As I get older, and more experienced, my sense of what to pursue or discard gets better as does my appreciation for the sacred state of not knowing exactly what I'm doing, just knowing I should be doing it. I hope this extends to every aspect of my life and every relationship in and out of the studio. Life is much bigger than I am, and so it would be surprising if I felt that I knew what I was doing. What is truly surprising is the sensation that comes to me that I should be doing what I am doing. Hanging on to this sensation often takes more power than I possess, yet like an act of grace, it persists unbelievably.

Purple Skies

I stumbled across a gratitude challenge. I don't even know for sure who it was originally meant for or why. But it was called the 21 Days of Gratitude project. The author was challenging everyone to a pretty simple gratitude experiment. For 21 days everyone in on the challenge was supposed to journal about 5 things they were grateful for every day. I regularly recommend gratitude journals to my clients. I feel like a hypocrite because I have never been able to consistently do my own gratitude journal. I usually only last a few days. But when I read about the gratitude project I thought, "I can do this." It is time for me to make gratitude a habit. You can see the original gratitude project blog here.

I've been doing it for a few weeks now. It really has been amazing. Gratitude has become more automatic and meaningful for me than ever before. I'm thinking all the time about things I'm grateful for. There is so much. I also watched a Ted talk by the guy who created the blog 1000 Awesome Things. Well worth watching. His blog is pretty cool too.

Tonight I was driving home and there was an amazing sunset. It was purple and the clouds looked truly ethereal. Normally I might have noticed it momentarily and been happy. I do love sunsets after all, so I'm sure I would have noticed it. But tonight I really savored it. I felt like God had painted a masterpiece and presented it as a gift just for me. It really was dream-world beautiful. I felt like a little girl seeing a sunset for the first time. I was almost giddy with delight. I held onto that happy, grateful feeling for a long time. Since I've been doing the gratitude project I've noticed that I have been happier and my life has felt more "right".

I decided to send my clients (who were interested in it) a daily email for 21 days from the 21 Days of Gratitude project. I revised a few things because I am only slightly into metaphysical law of attraction stuff and the original project was heavily into it on some of the days. I love what happened in my life as I did the 21 days. It was fun thinking about it every day. I'm going to miss it. But I'm going to continue the gratitude habit. One of the quotes I found said that gratitude is the fastest form of healing. I believe that could be true.