Tag: art shows

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Law of Attraction

Betwixt

We often hear this idea that we can manifest abundance or draw to ourselves all the things we desire, i.e. the Law of Attraction. But is this really how the universe works? I wonder.

I just heard it presented again in an artists’ group. It’s so simple, so easy, she says. You only have to understand what it is you truly desire, let go of your limiting beliefs and allow the things you desire to enter your life. Amazing things will come to you–that big new studio, money, clients, business, whatever you want. Such a heady idea. I felt myself rising to it, as I always do.

Central Park

Many years ago I read Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way. She is a big advocate of this idea. There are lots of wonderful exercises in the book designed to help you realize what you truly desire and then bring those things into your life. “Leap, and the net will appear.” I was all in. Many pretty pictures appeared in my mind and I tried to manifest these things in my life.

I then started traveling to art shows. I headed off to each show with the mantra, “Anything is possible. Anything can happen!” My “anythings” included being discovered by an agent or a publisher. An apartment overlooking Central Park. A soulmate. Travel. Book deals. I had vivid imaginings of these things happening, these things that I could draw to myself, if only I would leap.

I leapt and I’ve had a nice life, one I’ve enjoyed very much, and I am very grateful to Julia Cameron for her book. I’ve felt lucky, but I couldn’t say that the life I imagined for myself then is the one I’ve lived. No publisher, no apartment, no soulmate, no pot of money. But would I be happier had I found those things? Maybe, maybe not.

NM804 How Lucky

I think the Law of Attraction is a beautiful idea for some things. Drawing goodness, light, inspiration, and grace into your life. Keeping a mindset that is positive and well wishing. Growing resilience. Starting each day with an attitude of abundance, in terms of joy, people, ordinary experiences. Not Things. Framing any bad experiences in a way that is helpful rather than debilitating. Pulling like-minded, positive people toward you.

I think it’s a mistake to sell it as a way to get Things, e.g. a big lovely house, a publishing deal, a pot of money, a fancy job or car. And I get a little squeamish at the hidden suggestion that those lovely, good, positive people who’ve had lots of health and other problems have somehow drawn their troubles to themselves, by virtue of their limiting beliefs.

My attraction to the Law of Attraction now comes with conditions. I might try to manifest a wonderful painting, an excellent shot at pickleball, a really great MerryThoughts letter. But the pot of gold and the big bright studio? I don’t think so.

“When you are joyful, when you say yes to life and have fun and project positivity all around you, you become a sun in the center of every constellation, and people want to be near you.” ― Shannon L. Alder

“A change of feeling is a change of destiny.” ― Neville Goddard

“We are magnets . . .We have keys to all doors. We are all inventors, each sailing out on a voyage of discovery, guided each by a private chart, of which there is no duplicate. The world is all gates, all opportunities…” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Moving On

At the Walnut Street art show in Springfield MO

My van failed to pass inspection last May and I sold it yesterday, marking the true end to my art fair gypsy life.

I’d long ago cut out the rainy/cold/windy/beastly hot/snowy! outdoor shows. Then along came a little virus. No indoor shows. And last year, aside from a very small, easy, one-day show just down the road, I did not travel. Moving on to other things.

But since I absolutely HATE buying and selling cars, I only just put the van on the market last week. Now it’s gone. Ahh.

At Iowa City IA

I took advice from a friend about how to post it. Put it up on my Facebook page, hoping the friend who’d bought both my loveseat and Honda Accord, would feel the need to own an old van with 209,000 miles on it. Mostly highway! Nope. I then had to offer it to strangers. Nerve-wracking. I was asking $2500, as Edmonds’ suggested.

Right away, like the naive old lady I once heard loudly reading off her credit card number, three-digit code and expiration date into a phone at a thrift store (true), I got scammed. A flurry of messages asked me to give my cell phone number so they could send me a code and, as I found out, grab my number and use it to get into my Google account and scam other people. Don’t ever do this!! I foolishly did it one time, against everything my body and intuition were telling me, then feverishly called one son and then another, to fix it. How would I get along without them? What was I thinking?? I know better!! And yet. Old Lady.

At Salina, Kansas

Then there were the lowball offers. Who makes an offer sight unseen, anyway? Several offered $1000. One of those said he could throw in some “firearms” if I was interested. My only interest in firearms is that they be outlawed! I wanted to say (yell). Another offered $300. Cash!

In the end and rather quickly I sold it to a guy who said it was for a good cause. Piqued my interest, of course. I checked it out and it’s all true. He is a lovely man who knows two of the nicest people I know and who is creating a transitional living house for people struggling with addiction. Since I once worked in that field, I was happy to let him have it for less than I’d wanted. So my trusty green Toyota, which has had a pretty beautiful life already, will be transporting people who are trying to better their lives. La! Both I and the van are moving on, in good ways. I like it.

“Girls, you’ve gotta know when it’s time to turn the page.” ― Tori Amos

“There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book or simply close it.” ― Shannon L. Alder

“We can’t be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don’t have something better.” ― C. JoyBell C.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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A Lesson in Perseverance

At the downtown Des Moines Art Fair

A few years ago I was headed to an art show in Des Moines, Iowa–The “Other” Art Show. It was the show held indoors at the Fairgrounds the same weekend as the big, fancy, downtown outdoor show, the one that was extremely hard to get into. I had a 4-5 hour drive and then set-up to do that day. As I was putting the last thing into my van, the heavy and awkward dolly, I pulled something in my hip. Damn! I was pretty annoyed as I got an ice pack from my freezer and headed off. I’d be able to refreeze it throughout the weekend at my friend’s house, but boy, I was grumpy about this turn of events. What bad luck.

I got to Des Moines just fine, with a stop at the Jaarsma Bakery in Pella, to pick up an Almond Butter Cake for my friend and her husband. I probably ate something yummy in the charming town square there, too.

In the town square of Pella, Iowa

At the show venue, as I was unloading all my stuff I noticed an elderly man hobbling painfully around his pickup truck. I wondered what he was doing there in the lot where we were all loading in for the show. He was clearly struggling. I went over and asked, “Is there some way I can help you?” and he replied, “Well, I have a broken hip.” He told me he had finished unloading all his stuff and I asked, astonished, “Do you mean to say that you’re in the show?” Yes. “And you’re doing the show with a broken hip?” Yes. “Do you have help?” No. I was flabbergasted. And embarrassed that I had been so grumpy about my tiny problem.

I asked again if I could help. He was trying to get into his truck to leave, since he was all finished. By then he was halfway into the driver’s seat, but he said, “If you could just lift my leg into the truck, that would help a lot.” I’m sure my eyes grew big. Well, okay. With much trepidation, I carefully lifted his left leg and got it in and he was able to drive off.

One of Ken Smith’s beautiful watercolors

The next day I went to look for him. His booth was very plain. No walls. No booth sign, that I recall. Just a folding chair and cardboard boxes full of his simply beautiful watercolor paintings. The boxes were sitting on upturned bins, covered with cloth. Paintings were all unframed and not even matted or encased in plastic sleeves. Just piles of them, with the unbelievably low prices in pencil on the back. I bought three. He just loved to paint and had amassed a lot of work. What else was he going to do with it but bring it to the show and sell it cheap? While sitting on a broken hip.

I found out later that his name was Ken Smith and the friend I was staying with knew him fairly well. They had taken a watercolor class together. When my sister saw a photo of one of his paintings she asked if he had a website. Haha. No website for this guy. Just an old gentleman who loved to paint.

He has since passed away, so I only saw him that one time. But he really taught me lessons about carrying on in the face of physical pain, sticking to your commitments, and doing what you love, at any age and no matter what.

“If it lights you up, just do it & throw away the logics.” ― Hiral Nagda

“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” ― Martin Luther

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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The Promise

Sun pours through the window of this pricey hotel

burning frost off the glass, making a cheerful promise

that today will be less brutal than the two before:

artists huddling miserably layered in clothing and

blankets in open tents, hoping someone might brave

the cold to buy something nice for their home knowing

the odds of this happening are very slim indeed.

We dream of bathtubs and beds, waiting, hapless.

 

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Why?

The cold the cold creeping into bones

(no matter the layers of clothing and

subcutaneous fat of which we rant)

as we sit or stand for hours on end

in this one place, a long sunless day

into evening no end in sight wondering

why on earth in God’s name in hell

we ever thought this might be a pleasant

way to earn our keep.  The minutes creep by

along with all thoughts of remuneration

replaced by the simple desires for hot tea,

a warm bed, a scalding tub in which to soak.

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Stranger With a Dog

She wept there, unexpectedly, a young woman

with a brown dog not hers, helplessly asking

How did you get like this? so openly

so unfiltered so unrehearsed so much a child.

Something had come undone and she

wept, needing to and there it was, something

I’d done or written or put forth setting it loose in her.

And where and to what she’s gone now I’ll never know.

A stranger who passed right through my life within

minutes but whom I will always remember.

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Two Straight Arrows

That woman’s two sons died together in a car crash

two teenagers off on their way to work

two straight arrows she said they were

and when she told me tears sprang

as it is so often said right into my eyes.

How did she bear it? I wonder for

I have certainly imagined such a thing

many times when my own sons have

stayed gone longer than seemed

explainable in some other way.

I don’t know how she bore it or how

she bears it now, so many years later.

I hear these stories from strangers

who pass right along through my life

on their way to whatever private

challenges they face, these stories

that live someplace inside me, the

lovely and the terrible making a

kind of fierce patchwork I could

easily hide beneath.

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The Watercolorist

A man 91 years old with a broken hip

barely able to get into the seat of his van

sits in a booth at an art show selling

his beautiful watercolor paintings

out of cardboard boxes for fifteen dollars.

They shame anything I could do.

Fat Dutch irises bloom on a sheet

splashed with color.  Bouquets of

I Don’t Know What in round vases.

Landscapes and barns.

He can probably do them in his sleep

my neighbor says.

You’re 91 and you’re doing art shows?

I ask, incredulous.

Art shows have been good to me

he says and I, chastened, vow never

to complain of the heat, the rain,

the difficulty ever again.

Knowing full well that I will.

Forgiving myself in advance.