Just a girl and her cat on a Thursday morning, checking in while thinking about life and how the decisions we make effect us and those around us, and the reasons for the fear that sometimes keeps us from having the great life we desire and deserve and are meant to have. As children, we all possess dreams of who we want to be "when we grow up", but as adults so often we get thrust into rolls we never really wanted to have, unsure of how we got there. I'm not speaking for myself in the now-there are lots of things I want to do, but I'm deeply and truly happy about where I am in this moment. If I rewind back to a few years ago, though, I found myself in a law office, gaining valuable experience in the workplace but deeply bored, feeling a bit stuck because quitting would have meant losing the money that was paying for my car, my health insurance, money for rent, and barely enough for living. A wonderful colleague of mine who has since moved to New York City (and I'm so happy for her that she took that leap) would often ask me what I was doing there. We'd be in the mailroom, trying to finish up the day's work so we could bust out of the drudgery for the evening, and she would cock her head to one side, study my face, and say, "You're an artist. Why are you here, working in a law office?" Indeed, the area around my desk at the time was plastered with pictures of rock climbing in Colorado, the city scape of Boston, family members who I missed, and the colors on my computer changed on almost a daily basis because I'd get tired of looking at the same old grey tones. I used to joke that this was a desparate attempt to infuse my daily life with some creativity. By the time I got home I would be so burned out, my energy completely sapped, that I'd have little motivation to do anything aside from go to a meeting, eat a bit of dinner, and collapse on the couch. After fielding telephone calls all day long the sound of my own phone ringing would make me cringe. Anyway, why is it that some of us don't follow our dreams and desires, our true dreams and desires? Why do we think they are so out of reach, only meant for someone else? If everyone allowed themselves to succumb to this belief, we would have no Abraham Joshua Heshels, no Colin Farrels, no Albert Einsteins, no Jacque Cousteaus, no Conrad Ankers. While I'm asking all of these questions, why do I believe this? A few months ago I was at an art show with N in Miami. We walked up and down rows of booths, some displaying paintings, some showing sculptures created from various materials, some boasting antique jewelry, some packed with gorgeous Judaic artwork and religious items. One of my favorite stops was at the booth of an older man who splits his time between New York City and Florida. His work consisted of paintings of New York City, wonderful scenes of daily life in the Big Apple. I talked with him for awhile about his artwork, about New York, and about how lucky he was to have the opportunity to spend his time in two super cool places and stay warm throughout the year. His eyes lit when he spoke of his love for his home city and about his creative passion. I walked away feeling inspired and wondering why I hadn't taken the same leap. I suppose time is always an issue, but this morning I read something in a magazine over breakfast that made me think twice about the "not enough time theory". We need to follow our passions even when we're tired, even when we don't feel like it, even when we don't think we have anything left to give to the effort. We might be surprised at how much fuel we pile onto our creative fire when we honor our muse. Part of the reason I keep a blog is that I love to write. Why have I never pursued a job in writing? Part of the reason is that I went to school for art, not journalism, but maybe I limit myself with this type of rationale. I've written for a local paper and received nothing back but positive commentary. In fact, a few people recently mentioned that they missed my column and wondered when I would be writing it again. My Papa, of Blessed Memory, once told me that I should be a writer, because it was something that came easily to me and that I did well. My Papa was a business owner, who created a prosperous and good life for his family through his business. He was also a highly ethical and generous soul, a person who lived Judaism the way it's supposed to be lived, using his prosperity not only to enjoy his own life, but also to help others around him live a little more prosperously. In short, he was a wise man and someone for whom I have an abundance of respect. I will carry his memory and his faith in me today as I launch myself back into the world, busily doing the jobs I need to complete for N's business (which keeps us fed and living under a roof), as well, hopefully, as a few things that I need to do for my spirit and for my little one's spirit. Have a great Thursday.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Thursday Hellos
Just a girl and her cat on a Thursday morning, checking in while thinking about life and how the decisions we make effect us and those around us, and the reasons for the fear that sometimes keeps us from having the great life we desire and deserve and are meant to have. As children, we all possess dreams of who we want to be "when we grow up", but as adults so often we get thrust into rolls we never really wanted to have, unsure of how we got there. I'm not speaking for myself in the now-there are lots of things I want to do, but I'm deeply and truly happy about where I am in this moment. If I rewind back to a few years ago, though, I found myself in a law office, gaining valuable experience in the workplace but deeply bored, feeling a bit stuck because quitting would have meant losing the money that was paying for my car, my health insurance, money for rent, and barely enough for living. A wonderful colleague of mine who has since moved to New York City (and I'm so happy for her that she took that leap) would often ask me what I was doing there. We'd be in the mailroom, trying to finish up the day's work so we could bust out of the drudgery for the evening, and she would cock her head to one side, study my face, and say, "You're an artist. Why are you here, working in a law office?" Indeed, the area around my desk at the time was plastered with pictures of rock climbing in Colorado, the city scape of Boston, family members who I missed, and the colors on my computer changed on almost a daily basis because I'd get tired of looking at the same old grey tones. I used to joke that this was a desparate attempt to infuse my daily life with some creativity. By the time I got home I would be so burned out, my energy completely sapped, that I'd have little motivation to do anything aside from go to a meeting, eat a bit of dinner, and collapse on the couch. After fielding telephone calls all day long the sound of my own phone ringing would make me cringe. Anyway, why is it that some of us don't follow our dreams and desires, our true dreams and desires? Why do we think they are so out of reach, only meant for someone else? If everyone allowed themselves to succumb to this belief, we would have no Abraham Joshua Heshels, no Colin Farrels, no Albert Einsteins, no Jacque Cousteaus, no Conrad Ankers. While I'm asking all of these questions, why do I believe this? A few months ago I was at an art show with N in Miami. We walked up and down rows of booths, some displaying paintings, some showing sculptures created from various materials, some boasting antique jewelry, some packed with gorgeous Judaic artwork and religious items. One of my favorite stops was at the booth of an older man who splits his time between New York City and Florida. His work consisted of paintings of New York City, wonderful scenes of daily life in the Big Apple. I talked with him for awhile about his artwork, about New York, and about how lucky he was to have the opportunity to spend his time in two super cool places and stay warm throughout the year. His eyes lit when he spoke of his love for his home city and about his creative passion. I walked away feeling inspired and wondering why I hadn't taken the same leap. I suppose time is always an issue, but this morning I read something in a magazine over breakfast that made me think twice about the "not enough time theory". We need to follow our passions even when we're tired, even when we don't feel like it, even when we don't think we have anything left to give to the effort. We might be surprised at how much fuel we pile onto our creative fire when we honor our muse. Part of the reason I keep a blog is that I love to write. Why have I never pursued a job in writing? Part of the reason is that I went to school for art, not journalism, but maybe I limit myself with this type of rationale. I've written for a local paper and received nothing back but positive commentary. In fact, a few people recently mentioned that they missed my column and wondered when I would be writing it again. My Papa, of Blessed Memory, once told me that I should be a writer, because it was something that came easily to me and that I did well. My Papa was a business owner, who created a prosperous and good life for his family through his business. He was also a highly ethical and generous soul, a person who lived Judaism the way it's supposed to be lived, using his prosperity not only to enjoy his own life, but also to help others around him live a little more prosperously. In short, he was a wise man and someone for whom I have an abundance of respect. I will carry his memory and his faith in me today as I launch myself back into the world, busily doing the jobs I need to complete for N's business (which keeps us fed and living under a roof), as well, hopefully, as a few things that I need to do for my spirit and for my little one's spirit. Have a great Thursday.
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