Laughter echoed across the lake. The sound of giggling children jumping into the water lasted all day. That night around midnight, teens were heard singing loudly, having a few moments with friends they’ve known their whole lives. 

The soft putter of an old motorboat rings in my ears this morning. The scene is an old man fishing with a young boy, probably his grandson. I instantly flashed back to countless hours fishing with my Grandfather Walter in his old rowboat.

These are the sounds of summer. 

Growing up in Indiana, summers passed too quickly. But they were the best of times, the best memories ever. Downtime away from school, and uptime with friends and family. 

We would hit the water first thing in the morning, stay in it all day, breaking only for burgers on the grill for lunch, Popsicles as many times as we could get away with, and dinner, which was usually more burgers. Then we would be back in the water or on the water, hanging with lake friends we didn’t see any other time of year. Being able to boat by ourselves was a freedom I only felt again when I got my driver’s license. In the boat I could spin and do circles and go as fast as I wanted. It was glorious.

Summer was a time of adventure and exploration.

I spend all year looking forward to our Adirondack summers on the lake. Our goal is to spend all summer here, and have the kids here with us, and hopefully one day their kids. It’s our time to reconnect, to play games, to do puzzles at the long antique dining table that never gets used, to talk till the wee hours of the morning with friends, to kayak, fish, and climb the mountain where you can see 50 miles from the top.

As a kid, I never wanted summer to end. School. Yuck. And as an adult, I never really want to leave here. I stay as long as weather or obligations will permit. But if it lasted forever, it wouldn’t be special. I wouldn’t have anything to look forward to.

The End Is Near

This week was the warning shot across the bow that summer is about to end for us here. One of our sons left to return to school, and our daughter will leave here within a few days. Soon we’ll be empty-nesters again, something we look forward to with mixed feelings. The quiet time will be nice, but it will feel empty, for sure. We’re counting the weeks we have left before our busy life of work kicks in, which we also look forward to.

The downside of spending summers in paradise is that we rarely leave our home here. When others take vacations or fly off to distant lands, we want to be here, focused on our tradition. It’s not a bad thing. We feel blessed. 

Now the pressure is on to make sure I do everything I want to do. This year I’ve not climbed the mountain, painted from my boat, or seen a couple of friends I want to see. Somehow I’ve been working more than I should. But I’m thankful, because years ago, this life wasn’t possible.

Luck

People say, “You’re lucky,” and I feel as though I am blessed, though I’m here because of deliberate action. I landed here because my dad wanted his family together on a lake all summer long, and he accomplished that for about three decades before he passed. He had to make major sacrifices to make it happen and had to work long hours for decades to be able to do it. It’s been the same for us, knowing we wanted to be able to spend our summers here, and it took decades of planning and work to accomplish such an important goal.

Fatherly Advice

Each summer when my son’s friends visit, I sit with them and take advantage of the opportunity to chat heart-to-heart and help them see a perspective they might not see. “You’re lucky to have this place,” said one of them, which was a chance to tell him what I went through to have it. That then leads to a discussion about the importance of dreaming and determining what you want your life to look like. You can be like a boulder pushed from the top of a mountain, bouncing around to different places before you land, or you can be more deliberate. You still won’t land in the exact place or in the exact way you’re thinking about, but you’re more likely to get close to landing where you want if you set some goals and make a plan. 

Trapped with Money

I know lots of people who inherited big money, so much that they did not need to work. Many of them are lost, feeling as though they lack purpose. They have one foot in the security of their money, but they love the idea of trying something new, trying to make it on their own. But since they don’t need to, they often don’t. That makes me sad.

Living the Life of Others

Years ago, my friend Mark ran his dad’s company. He was miserable in his big house and his big job, because he was living his dad’s dream and not his own. One day on the golf course he leveled with me that he felt trapped. I suggested he burn the bridges and not look back, that he needed to find himself. But he was addicted to security. Years later, when his dad’s company was sold, he was free, but by then he said he was too old to take risks. He died an unhappy man who never lived his own life. 

Time Runs Out

As I face yet another coming birthday this month, it’s usually the kick that I need to remind me that time is running out and that there are lots of goals I’ve yet to meet, experiences I’ve yet to experience. Every day is precious, but if you’re not doing what you love, you’re wasting a life you’ll never get back. If you cling to security, what’s safe, what’s easy, you’ll live a life of regret. 

What is sitting in a deep cave in the back of your mind that you’ve always wanted to do, but have not done? Now is the time, my friend. Stop making excuses. You can find a way, no matter what your circumstances or age. You’re never too old or too young (in most cases). 

Get busy. Focus on being deliberate. 

Eric Rhoads

PS: Last week I mentioned that I was nervous about doing a workshop, but the reviews came in, and I knocked it out of the park. Why did I not try it sooner?

This week I judged two art shows — one giant online art show, and the local Adirondack Plein Air show. That was loads of fun.

As my time here winds down, the new adventures begin. 

In September I’ll be hosting our Pastel Live online conference.

Then I’ll be hosting my Fall Color Week retreat in California on the coast. (Though it’s sold out, some new rooms just became available — but today is the last day to book them.) 

Following Fall Color Week, I head to Tahoe to do some planning for next year’s Plein Air Convention.

Then I head to Laguna to be one of the judges for the annual Laguna Plein Air event. 

There is more … but I’m too exhausted to talk about it all. And there should be a couple of major announcements coming this week or next. Stay tuned.

Describing paradise isn’t possible. The feelings permeate your entire soul. How do you describe the feeling of the warm sun on your skin as you lie on the dock absorbing its rays? Or the feeling of seeing a giant nesting eagle almost within reach as you boat past her in a kayak in waterlily- filled waters? Or a hundred varieties of rich greens, all in one place, in view against the subtle purples of distant mountains? I feel blessed to be spending my summers here in the Adirondacks.

Lucky You

“You’re lucky to be able to spend all summer in a place like this,” said an acquaintance. Blessed yes — lucky, maybe. But everything I’m experiencing had little to do with luck and everything to do with a deliberate plan I began making after a frustrating turning point. As it turns out, most of the good things that happen in life are born of frustration and the desire to change those feelings and overcome the limitations that cause them.

Limited Time

Once I was exposed to this paradise — thanks to the vision of my father, who found it and moved here for his summers — I was so in love with how my body melted into relaxation within 24 hours of being here, and how my eyes were stimulated with its deep, oxygen-flooded woods, crystal clear waterfalls flowing over giant boulders, and its 6 million acres of protected beauty. But I had to leave … off to work, unable to stay, only able to squeeze in a weekend once a summer, at best. Wanting to be here, and frustration that I could not be here more, drove me to make a plan that allowed me to be here all summer, every summer. 

Powerful Dreams

Plans like this are driven by dreams so powerful that nothing is allowed to distract you from making them happen. I told myself that by the time I had kids, I wanted them to grow up on this lake, experiencing true halcyon days of summer, for every summer of their lives. (Or at least every summer till they were in charge of their own timeline.) My plan started with a goal … spend all summer here. That meant I had to become independently wealthy or retired, neither of which was an option. But being driven by the dream, I gradually looked for ways to unwind commitments where my in-person presence was required to run my businesses, including team and business meetings in an era where Zoom had yet to be invented and the internet was just starting to become a thing. Yet by the time my kids were born, I hit my goal, and made a commitment that I would never leave on business trips or for meetings in the summer months. Happily, I’ve only violated that a handful of times in two decades.

Without frustration, we don’t know how much better our lives can become. Without pain, we cannot appreciate the perfect days.

My Sucko Boss

As a young man of 19, I was able to take a two-week vacation from my radio job in Miami to join my parents on their trip to Europe. It was my first time there, and my eyes were opened to a whole new world. But when my time was up, my parents suggested I see if I could get just three more days off to join them on the next leg of their trip, Vienna. But an overseas call to the U.S. (difficult in those days) to my boss resulted in him screaming, “NO! And if you’re not back on time, don’t bother coming back.” So I came home, only to discover I could have stayed a few more days and no one would have cared. It was simply a power play from my boss. 

Embrace Horrible Moments

Defining moments of frustration like this need to be embraced. It was that split-second moment that made me tell myself, “I’m never going to work for anyone again. I’m never going to allow myself to be placed in a position where I can’t do what I want.”

Kicked Into Action

It was that moment that got the squirrels turning the wheels in my previously stunted brain. I was on fire with ideas, and within a few months, I had set up some side businesses, built up my savings, and eventually quit my job. I took one more job because my plan included making myself well-known in certain radio circles by taking a loser radio station to number one in less than a year — which then got me several job offers and resulted in my starting my own consulting business, taking all of the jobs offered. That was my launch.

No matter how stuck you may think you are, there are always options to get you unstuck. And the best moments are the “I’ve had enough” moments. 

Doing the Right Thing

Though I was tempted to quit and stay in Europe, it was not the right thing to do for my career or for my need to pay my bills. But it stimulated my thinking, which resulted in the creation of a plan. My frustration and need to become independent overcame the fear of going out on my own. 

If you’re feeling stuck, know that there is a solution, and there is hope. But things don’t magically solve themselves; they require your thought and your action. There is always a way out. But you have to overcome the tricks your brain is trying to play on you.

Problems Seem Bigger Than They Are

Our fears tend to enlarge the magnitude of our problems, and then we tell ourselves stories that it’s impossible to escape. It’s never impossible. You just have to get sick and tired of where you are before you’ll make the changes you need to make. 

Where are you stuck? 

Are you feeling trapped?

What is frustrating you?

I guarantee you, if you embrace the frustration and the fear, you can change your circumstances, no matter how stuck or alone you feel.

Eric Rhoads

PS: You would think a guy like me, who appears to be overconfident at times, would not allow his brain to control him with negative thoughts. Right? I’ve stood on stages in front of thousands of people and made a complete fool of myself. I just hung upside down from aerialists’ silks at the Plein Air Convention. I’ve been on broadcasts reaching millions of people while entertaining. I’ve been featured in hundreds of articles, TV shows, and radio stations. I’ve hung out with rock stars. I’ve overcome so many things, yet there are moments when fear or doubt still creep in.

I just experienced two of those moments.

The first was because an art gallery owner visited my studio. He picked out 16 paintings to take to the gallery, some of which need to be finished, or signed or varnished. He then said, “I want to do a show, and I want you to come in for a reception.”

Gulp. Fear set in. It was one thing to send paintings to a gallery, it was another to commit to a show where I would be laid bare in front of the world. My mind immediately went into negative overdrive with “What if?” questions: What if I don’t sell anything, what if I fail, what if I embarrass myself? After all, this gallery sells the very top contemporary painters and a lot of historic masters. To think I’d be in a show hanging next to those paintings was intimidating. “I’m not good enough; I’m not even close to their level.” I was experiencing imposter syndrome. All legitimate feelings of course, because I know that my work isn’t as good as a lot of other work. But the gallery owner reminded me, “I’m not going to stake my reputation on a show of substandard work. Relax. You’ll be fine.”

I have not committed to the show yet because I want to see how the paintings turn out first. If I do it, I need to push my limits to be as good as I’m currently capable of. (Not to mention not having a lot of painting time.) But I’m leaning toward doing it, assuming I can get the rest of the paintings done. And I should probably just commit and set a deadline so I can’t back out.

I’m sharing this because I know I have to push myself beyond my negative thoughts, and I wanted you to know I still have them.

Another thing…

I got a call from Sandy Hildreth, the organizer of the local Adirondack plein air festival (which is not the same as my Adirondack Publishers’ Invitational retreat). The artist set to do her workshop this weekend backed out due to health issues, and she asked if I would do it.

My first response was, “No, I’ve never taught a workshop.” Her response was perfect … “Maybe not, but I see you working with painters at your events and you clearly know what you’re doing, and I’ve seen you teach on video.” 

Again, my doubts crept in and I declined. But as I thought about it, I thought, “If not now, when? What if this is my one chance to do a workshop?” So I called her back and agreed to do it. 

My brain had been playing games with my head. “You’re gonna bomb, you’re not as good as others who could be teaching it, your artist friends are going to mock you.” 

But here I am, Sunday morning, and I’m about to head over for day two of my workshop, which started yesterday morning. I don’t know what I was worried about. I’m seeing that I’m able to help some really good artists figure out how to get better. I’m seeing the lights turn on when they suddenly “get” certain concepts. 

I’m telling you this because I want you to know that these feelings are normal. Tony Robbins says this is your reptilian brain trying to protect you. But we have to overcome those thoughts and fears and do it anyway, because if we don’t, we’ll sit sheepishly in our comfortable chair and never leave it.

By the end of today, I’ll either know that I rocked the workshop or I will have received bad feedback. Either way, I will have grown. So I’m glad I said yes.

What’s holding you back?

If you’re telling yourself … I’d love to learn to paint, but…

• I’m not good enough
• I don’t have talent
• I can’t draw a stick figure
• I’m not an artist

I guarantee I can teach you in my Pastel Live even next month. It’s a 3-day online workshop with the best pastel painters in the world, and pastel is one of the best ways to learn to paint because it does not require you to mix liquids and chemicals to figure out colors. Like crayons, you grab the colors you want, but unlike crayons, the colors are vibrant and professional-looking. Join me by visiting pastellive.com.

One of my next goals … I want to stand onstage in front of an audience at a non-art event, and show the audience that they can lose their stress and build their self-esteem by learning to paint. Then I’m going to pass out materials to 10,000 people in the room, and teach them how to paint step by step, right there from their seats. Then we’re all going to celebrate our success when they all realize they can do this. 

Will I do it? Absolutely, now that the goal is set. It’s just a matter of time. 

When I speak of my view, looking out at the fog rolling over rows of distant pines; when I describe the loons cooing, with their eerie calls bouncing off the distant water and echoing back; or when I articulate sitting in the screened porch, 140 years old and with the original wicker couches and chairs that squeak every time I shift my weight, I do so to help you escape for a brief moment to take on my character and place, so my words might be understood from a different perspective … my perspective. 

From some of you who occasionally open my weekly e-mails, from time to time I get questions. There have been more lately. Possibly because I say what I’m thinking about, without thinking about signals it might send. 

Are you OK? 

That’s a polite way to ask if I’ve developed some disease that has ravaged my previously stocky, bloated body. 

I set a goal to live the rest of my life under a certain weight and with more strength because the excess was going to eventually cause problems I would rather avoid. Unlike some things that can’t be undone, weight loss can solve a basket of problems. So over the course of one year, I gradually removed the weight of a small child by hiring a trainer, sweating like a pig (do pigs sweat?), and fighting the urge to overindulge in cookies. Self-discipline is all it took, and it is what it takes to come back when I lose my way with an occasional binge.

Not only am I healthy, my deeply researched supplement and exercise protocol is reversing my biological age. My only issue is a cranky back from time to time. Thanks for asking.

Are you gonna retire?

Ha! Three of my four grandparents lived active and healthy lives to their mid-90s, as did both of my parents. My dad worked 15-hour days until about two weeks before he died. He started a new business at 70, made it giant, then closed it at 80 when he discovered something he loved more, which he did till he died. It was not a small hobby business; he accomplished incredible things in his last 14 years. 

So why would I stop? What would I do?

I love the people I work with, I love my customers, and I’ve never been happier in my work life. I’ve made more friendships than ever, and I’ve been able to scale things to exceed a goal I set in 2018 to teach a million people to paint. My team and I have been able to help millions of people find their artistic inner voice and teach them how to harness its power to help them be their happiest selves. 

There is nothing I can currently think of that I would rather be doing. I get to travel to amazing places, take people behind the scenes at museums, paint the world with friends, and help people find their true identity through art. (But if I come up with something, I’ll let you know.)

I don’t intend to slow down, I intend to speed up. 

I have big, audacious goals, boxes I need to check, and I have to figure out a strategy to pass the baton in the event I get hit by a truck, so we don’t leave anyone hanging without the gifts we’ve tried to provide them. That means less day-to-day reliance on me, and letting my team run things better than I ever could.

Are you going to continue with your daily YouTube show?

If you don’t know, when COVID started, I felt the need to step up and do something to set people at ease. So at the end of the first week of lockdowns, I started going on Facebook and YouTube daily at noon. I did it 7 days a week for 7 months, then I shifted to 5 days a week and have done that ever since. I don’t think we’ve ever missed a day, though we’ve done some replays for a while here and there, but we do fresh new shows every weekday now. 

There is good news and bad news. The good news is that the show has reached millions of views and helped millions learn art. We’ve heard from thousands who have told us their stories of discovering their inner artist because of the show. And a lot of new people have discovered us, which has increased the size of our in-person and online events. 

But there is a downside. Booking guests, preparing shows, doing marketing for shows, teaching guests how to be on shows, editing shows, uploading shows — it takes a team of people. When we first started, we just overloaded our existing team, but now we’ve had to bring on more teams for the purpose. That of course increases our expenses. It also changed how I work, because I now need to devote a couple of hours a day to the show, which means I’ve got to get up two hours earlier to get those two hours of required work time back. But I think it’s worth the extra effort and expense, because it continues to touch lives, and every day someone new tunes in, discovers art, and starts doing it. And there is a community who tune in live daily, and who love to connect in the chat. 

Our biggest single show has had 200,000 views. But millions of people have watched, and we hear from people all over the world who are tuning in.

I was tempted to cut down to one day a week, which would be easy, but I don’t want to take the easy way out, I want to be there for people every day (which sometimes requires guest hosts during travel times). I started doing “Marketing Mondays” live to answer art marketing and sales questions, and I’ve started doing “Feedback Friday,” where I critique paintings. So we’re on every day at noon Eastern.

There will come a time when I’ll stop. I don’t know when that will be. 

Note: When you watch for over 20 minutes, when you subscribe, and when you make a comment or a like or a forward, YouTube rewards us by pushing the show out to new people. That always helps.

What do you need? How can we help?

1. I need to know what you need, what I can create or provide, that will improve your quality of life. It does not have to be about art. A simple e-mail with your thoughts or feedback would be welcomed. I promise I’ll read every single one. This is my personal e-mail: ([email protected]). This will help me know what books or articles to write, what trips or products to create, what to fix or improve, who you want us to do projects with, and  what we need for our future together.
2. I’d love to hear your story if we have somehow enriched your life, because we need to share these stories to give others the courage to step out and try something that they don’t believe they can do.
3. Tell others about their options. My mission is simple. Teach millions of people to paint even if they don’t believe they can do it. Introduce them to us, expose them to things we do that others might like. A simple forward of an e-mail to someone with your comment, “We should do this together,” or, “You should try this,” will be more meaningful than anything I can say.
4. Last but most important, keep me and my family in your prayers if you pray, and if not, keep us in your thoughts. I need the full armor of God to guide me in everything I do.

My wife says I’m an ideas guy. The other day she told a neighbor, “Eric comes up with big ideas and then figures out how to do them.” 

Like you, I have doubts. When I set a goal of teaching a million people to paint, I had doubts it would happen, but I continued telling myself I was doing it, and it came true. 

I have some dreams I’ve yet to figure out, things like …

• How to get our own show about the plein air lifestyle on Netflix. I need help with that … contacts and financial support. By doing this we can bring plein air painting to the masses and touch millions of lives. This was moving forward before COVID, I had a deal with a network, but I needed to raise a million bucks to produce it. I’ve decided to shift to a different network and allow someone else to produce it in order to get it done. 
• I want to build the world’s first museum devoted to plein air painting. I need a big-city location so it will get visited, a building, and a lot of money to build or remodel it, support it, and acquire paintings. Of course, I’ll contribute my collection, but I need an example of every important painter in our generation to reflect this movement, plus the history leading up to this current moment. You can help by forwarding this to someone who shares our passion and has the financial ability to make this happen.

Those are a couple of the big ones, but there are dozens of others, including books, courses, and other things, which I’ll reveal as the time is right.

I’m sorry to make this “about me.”  But as the intensity of questions continued, I felt this provided a lot of answers.

Eric Rhoads

PS: Our world is in turmoil. More than ever, we need the ability to escape the constant drum of rhetoric. The magic of painting is that I can walk into my studio after a stressful day, and my stress melts away in just a few minutes of painting.

I never saw myself as a painter, never believed I could learn to do it, and felt that “natural-born” talent was required. It’s not. I’m living proof.

One of the best ways to start painting is by discovering pastel painting, because we’ve all used crayons as kids. Pastel is vibrant, the sticks are usually hand-held, and it does not require learning to mix colors before painting. It is, I think, the best place to start.

My Pastel Live online event is a global conference on painting, featuring the world’s leading pastel artists. It’s important to start learning from the best, since that’s what we all aspire to become. Pastel Live is coming up in September, and it’s a 3- or 4-day event (optional 4th day for new artists or as a refresher of basics for established artists). I’m inviting you to attend — and if you cannot be there live, replays are available.