Seasons
/This is the first Brushstroke I’ve written in some time. Like an important note to a friend which, because we delay too long thinking about it, becomes an overwhelming task, I’ve delayed writing and become paralyzed by the idea of doing so. Some ideas have come, but they’ve floated away as fast as they arrived, leaving me wondering if the well has dried. Waiting, I realized that maybe the struggle itself is worthy of reflection.
The landscapes of our lives are a varied, with peaks as well as valleys. So, too, the seasons call for planting as well as harvesting, plowing as well as preparing. The writer of Ecclesiates described it well, to everything there is a season. It’s unrealistic to expect it to always be harvest time. Still, if we’re honest, that’s what we often expect . . . jobs that are always exciting, lucrative, and meaningful (all at the same time). . . friendships that are always laughs, with glasses lifted high in joyful toasts . . . marriages that are hand in hand walks as angels sing . . . bank accounts that are always full . . . lives that always have clear purpose. Jobs, friendships, marriages, bank accounts, and lives can be that way, just not all the time.
In the two worlds I know best, spirituality and creativity, this lesson is a perpetual companion. Because of moments when I’ve felt completely connected to God, I believe life is a wonderful, sacred journey. There’s simply nothing better than feeling connected to the universe and its creator, personally. But those moments are banquets in a life that often serves leftovers.
So, too, in creative pursuits. When an idea comes, and comes into the world through you, there’s simply nothing like it. An idea’s arrival is like Christmas morning, like seeing someone across the room that sets your heart on fire. Bringing an idea to life on the page, canvas, or work place is to know life at its most significant, but those moments are harvests. They come after plowing, planting, watering, and, yes, patience, persistence, and praying.
Julia Cameron, one of my most influential teachers, has worked with blocked artists and helped them learn about life’s seasons, about the peaks and valleys of living spiritual and creative lives. Because she has walked through such landscapes, endured many seasons, she knows the most important thing we can do is show up. Write, when we don’t think we have anything to say; paint, when no subject is clear. Whether at the page, computer or canvas . . . the marriage, desk, or pulpit, we need to arrive and open ourselves to the work that needs to be done. Just taking one step, putting our foot on the one stone within our reach, can lead to the next. Before long, we will have crossed the stream, and found ourselves on the other side.