If I Can Make It There...
I am home from my three state Thanksgiving tour. To include Chicago for turkey dinner then off to New York to see the city all dressed up for Jesus' Birthday party. While in the city we dash over to Connecticut to see my brother Todd. He and George have a beautiful home about forty minutes train ride from New York. On the train my phone rang and I told the caller I was on my way to the country. Anyway, weeks before I was to leave for the trip Barkley said "I hope this trip is inspirational for you." "Ah, me too." I said, thinking what a clever salutation. Better than "Have fun" or "Have a great time". As if anyone had other intentions. And it is true I've been ever-so-delicately not so inspired of late. So I packed the sentiment along with seven pair of shoes for the week long trip.
Even as I got on the plane I thought about becoming inspired by something. Be that to clean my gutters or work on the art show I'm supposed to show in January. I did imagine the den redesigned as a guest room. Not sure that counts as inspiration. The thought echoed in my head and I even put pressure on myself to be overcome by spirit and conviction. I think I usually see the brighter side of things and even in the darkness of my now powerfully present lack of inspiration I felt fine. Just quiet. I think the people around me are used to my normal manic behavior. That’s where my nick name came from, "Lee-Land" like an amusement park. A friend stopped by during one of my whirling episodes at the house around this time of year and as I hung lights in the tree outside and baked cookies and wrote about it and painted a picture of myself doing all of it he asked "Is this how things get done in Lee-Land". And that’s that. For a while, of late, I have been less than myself. I too hoped to bring a new perspective home form the cities.
Part of my woes and hood of doubt is facing the holidays with limited resources to give. Christmas is stressful with a fraction of your income. Spiritual freedom is one thing, Visa is another. I still think I'm a better person to be gone from the Home Depression. As I think about money and the season and try to be inspired I realize the thoughts together cancel each other out. Inspiration is not financially based. Money is the vehicle that may drive convictions into physical manifestation. Money in and of itself does not give birth to creativity. If properly motivated you will find the money. I'm still waiting. And I know Christmas is not about how much you spend so for you that think that way I'm going to give you a beautiful 'found- object-art' piece I'm making from the contents of my recycle bin. Love ya!
I love the energy of New York. The HUGEness of it is 'almost' inspirational. All my anguish was eased a bit at the Museum of Modern Art. In fifth grade I asked my teacher the name and description of a famous painting. She said "Starry Night". I'd not thought about that for years until I sat in my room at the Dilan Hotel planning my dollars and day. In the travel guide it listed MOMA 250 million dollar renovation... blah blah blah... Van Gough's "Starry Night". I took my inner fifth grader to see this masterpiece. Smaller than I thought. Beautiful all the same. I went to it twice that day as if to say thank you. When Miss. Schroeder described the painting and I drew out all the blue crayons I owned (maybe four) I became intrigued, and maybe wanted to be an artist because of the way she spoke of it.
It was that night as I tried to sleep in my brother’s guest room in Connecticut that something kept me awake. Visions of making gifts for friends that years ago I did not have time to make. Ideas for paintings and the words I type today. I lay there thinking "I wonder if Todd has tried that desk in his attic in this room, he should. I even had been given a new business plan to think about. And as I talked myself out of going up to the attic and redecorating the guest room while Todd slept, I wondered what it is that gets people all fired up and then burns away. I am so guilty of that. "That’s the best idea I've ever heard. Let’s do it!" Then I sober up and go to Home Depot. My Therapist thinks I'm a perfectionist. "You want things to have guarantees. There is no such thing as an absolute certainty" he told me. After I asked him to sign a legal statement that proclaimed that as my problem and nothing else and he refused I had no choice but to assume he was a sham. Now, however his words seem appropriate.
I am inspired to make fabulously not perfect Christmas gifts for all my friends and people I love. And the art show in January may not produce a "Starry Night" but, I will enjoy the creation of the work shown. My home will be festive with things from last year. And it gives me peace to tell myself it is OK to laugh at the flawz. There is so much more that can be done full of heart, soul and flawed than perfectly. Perfection, I now know to be more illusive than the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause. Inspiration is more like an imperfection. Just assume it is there waiting to be discovered.
Even as I got on the plane I thought about becoming inspired by something. Be that to clean my gutters or work on the art show I'm supposed to show in January. I did imagine the den redesigned as a guest room. Not sure that counts as inspiration. The thought echoed in my head and I even put pressure on myself to be overcome by spirit and conviction. I think I usually see the brighter side of things and even in the darkness of my now powerfully present lack of inspiration I felt fine. Just quiet. I think the people around me are used to my normal manic behavior. That’s where my nick name came from, "Lee-Land" like an amusement park. A friend stopped by during one of my whirling episodes at the house around this time of year and as I hung lights in the tree outside and baked cookies and wrote about it and painted a picture of myself doing all of it he asked "Is this how things get done in Lee-Land". And that’s that. For a while, of late, I have been less than myself. I too hoped to bring a new perspective home form the cities.
Part of my woes and hood of doubt is facing the holidays with limited resources to give. Christmas is stressful with a fraction of your income. Spiritual freedom is one thing, Visa is another. I still think I'm a better person to be gone from the Home Depression. As I think about money and the season and try to be inspired I realize the thoughts together cancel each other out. Inspiration is not financially based. Money is the vehicle that may drive convictions into physical manifestation. Money in and of itself does not give birth to creativity. If properly motivated you will find the money. I'm still waiting. And I know Christmas is not about how much you spend so for you that think that way I'm going to give you a beautiful 'found- object-art' piece I'm making from the contents of my recycle bin. Love ya!
I love the energy of New York. The HUGEness of it is 'almost' inspirational. All my anguish was eased a bit at the Museum of Modern Art. In fifth grade I asked my teacher the name and description of a famous painting. She said "Starry Night". I'd not thought about that for years until I sat in my room at the Dilan Hotel planning my dollars and day. In the travel guide it listed MOMA 250 million dollar renovation... blah blah blah... Van Gough's "Starry Night". I took my inner fifth grader to see this masterpiece. Smaller than I thought. Beautiful all the same. I went to it twice that day as if to say thank you. When Miss. Schroeder described the painting and I drew out all the blue crayons I owned (maybe four) I became intrigued, and maybe wanted to be an artist because of the way she spoke of it.
It was that night as I tried to sleep in my brother’s guest room in Connecticut that something kept me awake. Visions of making gifts for friends that years ago I did not have time to make. Ideas for paintings and the words I type today. I lay there thinking "I wonder if Todd has tried that desk in his attic in this room, he should. I even had been given a new business plan to think about. And as I talked myself out of going up to the attic and redecorating the guest room while Todd slept, I wondered what it is that gets people all fired up and then burns away. I am so guilty of that. "That’s the best idea I've ever heard. Let’s do it!" Then I sober up and go to Home Depot. My Therapist thinks I'm a perfectionist. "You want things to have guarantees. There is no such thing as an absolute certainty" he told me. After I asked him to sign a legal statement that proclaimed that as my problem and nothing else and he refused I had no choice but to assume he was a sham. Now, however his words seem appropriate.
I am inspired to make fabulously not perfect Christmas gifts for all my friends and people I love. And the art show in January may not produce a "Starry Night" but, I will enjoy the creation of the work shown. My home will be festive with things from last year. And it gives me peace to tell myself it is OK to laugh at the flawz. There is so much more that can be done full of heart, soul and flawed than perfectly. Perfection, I now know to be more illusive than the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause. Inspiration is more like an imperfection. Just assume it is there waiting to be discovered.
posted by Leland at 3:49 PM
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