The soft wind tickles the birch leaves and deep green pines as they move gently in harmony with the breeze that appeared here in the wilderness overnight, after an intense furnace of heat baked us over the past few days.

Rocking on the Porch

Soft, squishy carpets of transparent red oxide pine needles blanket the ground below this old porch where I sit rocking. It’s my first time on this porch, looking over the lake. It’s about 25 feet long against the decorative wood shingles on the wall, a bird feeder hanging from the 120-year-old roofline, perched on a slight hill about 10 feet from the shoreline. 

The Smell of Pines

The seven owners over the past 120 years have tastefully hidden these cabins in the trees, not visible from the water. The tall, established trees share the shoreline with fields of blueberry bushes and young pines hoping to one day make the journey to the sky.

Brain on Fire

My favorite mornings are those when I’m feeling well rested and my brain has been spitting out ideas faster than a firehose into a teacup. I awaken to capture them all with pen and ink, knowing some will be lost because I can’t write fast enough, and others may not seem like a good idea with the perspective of daylight.

The flood of ideas is often the result of experiencing what I call an emotional trigger, a moment or event that makes me realize something about myself, something that makes me desire change in my life. 

Rocket Fuel

Emotional triggers are like igniting the fuel in a rocket, pushing it forward to new and undiscovered planets. They are never predictable, never obvious, and they creep up on you like a thief in the night, stealing away your comfortable life by suddenly making you realize you need to do more, and often new things. 

Though I embrace them, I also dread these emotional triggers, because comfort is a wonderful place to be. Yet that same comfort is what binds our arms to our favorite chairs, where we can easily rock our lives away, living out the status quo.

An Earthquake

When these triggers come, they shake our very being, they awaken us internally, and they crack the foundation on which we stand like a giant earthquake, leaving cracks into which we can fall. We can be swallowed up in clinging to our existing stale yet comfortable life. It’s a point at which we either leap to new ground, unfamiliar territory, and embrace it as our new home, or we live among the cracks of certainty. 

The Colors of an Exotic Bird

When we cling to certainty, we often fail to experience what our creator has placed before us, which is the beautiful, colorful, shimmering peacock feathers opened just for a moment, so that we might see our bright future. At that moment we either chase it to see where it leads, or we tell ourselves we like where we are and we are unwilling to see what lies ahead.

Living life as a curious explorer, challenging ourselves to climb new hills and enter uncharted waters, is what takes us to new levels of excellence and excitement.

Unexpected Stimulation

For me, emotional triggers come in many forms. Someone will say something seemingly simple at a cocktail party, and it may help me put something together I didn’t even know I was searching for. It might be something one of the kids will show me, or something my wife will say, or often it’s a simple statement in a book or a movie.

I don’t chase emotional triggers. They show up at the most inconvenient times, and they immediately change your plans.

A Family Prayer

My dad has a prayer that we kind of consider our family prayer … “Change our plans according to your plans for us.” And to me these emotional triggers I receive are that voice telling me, “Turn left here. Trust me, just do it.”

A Night Out

Last night my trigger was the result of a movie, Yesterday, about a young musician with a career that’s going nowhere until a blackout wipes out the world’s memory of certain things — one of which is the Beatles’ songs. He becomes famous bringing those songs, as his own, to the world. 

Though I loved the film, what triggered me was that I had never stopped to realize the impact those four men had on the world, and the impact those songs had in our lives, and how the world without them would not be as good as the world with them in it. 

The Mozart of Our Time

The result of that thought was that these men, the musicians McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starr, were the Mozarts of our time, and their persistence made an impact on the world that truly changed culture forever. 

Touching More Lives

As the movie showed this man performing in Wimbledon in front of tens of thousands of people who are emotionally responding to the words and music of these songs, it struck me that I’m not doing enough, that I’m not touching enough lives, that I have too much more to offer and that I can’t stop, or even slow or get comfortable. Could I, in some small way, change the world for the better?

Happy People

As you know, I’ve been on a mission to teach a million people to paint, because painting changed my life, opened my eyes, and made me see the world through the eyes of an artist. And I have discovered that plein air (outdoor) painters are the happiest people I’ve ever met, I think because they are painting and being creative, but also because they are outside in nature and with other painters, which is fulfilling socially, and because they are traveling to beautiful spots and continually challenged, which keeps them mentally stimulated.

Doing More Than Before

My mission is going well, more people are joining our ranks every day, and we’re able to help people with things like our Plein Air Force Veterans Squad, which is getting veterans in the U.S. and Canada to discover painting and perhaps giving those with PTSD a break from their demons. But this film made me realize that I need a bigger platform, I need to reach more people, that a million is a nice goal, but it’s too small. 

Embrace Discomfort

Now, frankly, I am comfortable. I could coast for the rest of my life, probably keep doing the things I’m doing, and just keep the machine running. But this film made me realize that doing the status quo isn’t enough, and that I have to ramp up and do more. I have no idea what doing more looks like, how it will change me, but I can tell you that when I follow that voice, those emotional triggers, it always results in change.

Have you ever experienced emotional triggers?

I’m guessing you have. Falling in love is an emotional trigger that changes you forever. Having kids is also a trigger, because you have to rework your life. I never cared about making money until I had to have enough to feed and educate my kids. 

For years I didn’t even want kids and I never thought I’d have them, until I met the woman I loved so much that kids were the next natural step. Now I can’t imagine life without them.

Deep in Your Gut

Emotional triggers are feelings of discomfort. When something hits your gut and you know you’re the one who has to do something about it. It can’t be “Someone else will do it.” You may be the only one on Earth who ever receives that idea, that thought. What would have happened if Edison had not followed his emotional triggers? I’d be writing this in the dark and mailing it to you (thanks to whoever thought of the idea of mail).

The key to emotional triggers … we all get them. The key is being tuned in to embrace them, and to grab them and do something with them. 

Different Than Ideas

I get hundreds of ideas a week, but emotional triggers are bigger than ideas. They are things that are beyond ideas, things that can change your life and direction. Maybe they are things that will change the world, or things that will simply change your family or your work or your retirement. 

You should also know those quiet voices will nag you because you know, at a subconscious level, that you’re supposed to be doing something with them.

Do you have something nagging at you?

Chances are this voice has you in mind, and you are the designated person, the only one on earth, who is supposed to do it. 

Listen for it.

Embrace it.

Take action.

The result will be something you did not know you had in you. You will fear it, you will try to avoid it, but it will nag you till you do something with it, and as a result your life will be rich, never boring, and never sedentary. 

The idea of getting new triggers at a time when most people are winding down is both frightening and invigorating. Having new purpose and new challenge is exciting, though very discomforting. 

No-Regrets Living

Looking back, yearning for what you never tried, is not the way you want to live. “What could have been” should never be on your lips. If you’re breathing and can communicate, even if you’re physically impaired, you can still change the world. Stephen Hawking did not let that stop him, and I cannot imagine how difficult it was and how much patience and persistence it required. But he was triggered and knew he had things to do. So do you.

Eric Rhoads

PS: I have no idea how this new trigger will impact what I’m doing, but I know I need your support and don’t want to do it alone. I do know I need to amplify my efforts. If you would consider passing this on to just 10 people, the 10 you care about the most, and if they subscribe (you should too if this is just showing up somehow), you can help me touch more people. And if you happen to know someone who has a platform that can help amplify … a publisher, a celebrity, a media person, an influencer … send them a note and pass it on.

If I had one goal, it would be to help the world see another perspective, one that is rooted in love and respect. Chances are, if you’re reading this, you believe that too. Let’s help others find it.

PS2: Speaking of love, today is my brother Dennis’ birthday. He’s two years older than me, and I love and respect him, and thank him for being a role model for me in many ways.

PS3: There are a lot of people who are going on my behind-the-scenes fine art trip to the South of France and the trail of Van Gogh, Cezanne, Gauguin, Chagall, and others. Though it’s not a painters’ trip, it’s just for people who love art, I have decided to do a painters’ trip for three days before to Saint-Paul De Vence, a charming medieval art village in France. If you’ve been reading about this stuff, want to go on the trip, and would love to dip your toe into painting — or if you’re on the main trip and want to go on this one to observe the painters, or learn to paint yourself — I’ll happily carve out some of my painting time for you to set up beside me for some personal instruction. I may have a target of a million people or more, but it starts with one person at a time. Of course, one of the best ways to begin that journey, without having to go to France, is to join our Plein Air Basics Course at the Plein Air Convention in Denver this coming May. It’s very, very close to being sold out; we’ve already exceeded last year’s attendance and won’t have many seats before long. I think we’ve already sold out a couple of hotels. But you will be with other beginners (in the Basics Course), and the instructors stay with you the entire week to coach you. Many people have done their first painting ever at the convention. It’s one of the best ways you can learn plein air painting (or even learn to paint).

The ring of the old clock strikes the top of the hour. A hammer on old springs, barely has any life left after chiming atop the old fireplace for so long, but still wound once a week as it has been for the past 120 summers. Furniture made of sticks and woven tree bark has accompanied the clock for the journey in this old camp. The bead and board walls and the ceilings are carefully angled to create designs, and the giant stone fireplace in the center of the living room is the only warmth for a cold day.

A Giant Mirror

Glancing out the old diamond-shaped windows through pine branches, I see the lake is still and reflecting like a giant mirror, showing the pine-forest shoreline and the blue-and-white sky with a layer of brightly lit mist along the horizon.

I sit here in the octagonal window seat, warming myself in the sun. The dogs, Weasley and Chewey, are snuggled into the wool blanket beside me. About the only thing we’ve added to this place are a few old-looking paintings, my guitar, which sits nestled in the corner, and a new family.

Badge of Courage

I’ve been reading a series of New York Times articles that were scrapbooked by the previous owners; the oldest is dated July 29, 1899. There must be 50 between then and now, each highlighting how special and unique this chain of lakes is for its beauty and tradition. When my dad first moved here, many homes had not changed hands in over 50 years, and then another 30 years passed with very few changes. And now, as family dynamics change and owners age, we’re seeing another rare cycle as a few places on the lake hand the keys to new owners. Sad to see the elders move on and their families, many of whom have been here the entire 120 years since the area was first inhabited, unwilling or unable to stay. Yet happily, new faces appear, who will hopefully take the care of these old lake homes as seriously as those in the past. In the spirit of history, most have resisted the urge to modernize beyond the necessary.

There is a bit of a badge of courage in living with wood stoves and no road access — meaning we carry in what we need by boat, whether groceries or materials for a new roof. Some things, like firewood, can be harvested from downed or dead trees in our woods.

Out of Our Routines

We could have found a hundred other places to live on a lake in the summer, but it’s the traditions that draw us here, and, for me and my family, we find ourselves with the time to do things we rarely have time for otherwise. Being on a media break gives me back a lot of time I would have wasted. I dare say I’ve not painted much this summer so far, but have found myself tinkering in the woodshop, building some things needed around camp. Thanks to my son Brady, I’m learning how to design in 3D, and we’re experimenting with a 3D printer. My son Berkeley has torn himself away from video games and has been carving a cup from a block of wood, and he’s now constructing a hut back in the woods.

It does my heart good to see them interacting with something other than small screens and operating at a slower pace. It’s a great break from the pressures of school, and it teaches them that there is more to life than screen time.

Leading Curiosity

Families need leadership. It’s easier to let things take their course, let the kids follow the path of the things they are drawn to, yet if they do that, they may miss out on the confidence of knowing they can put their hands in the soil or build something out of a block of wood. My son wants to buy lumber for his project, but I’m suggesting he forage through the forest and try to build his shack from what he can find in the vast woods.

Though it’s easier to hire someone for chores than to endure the whining of teens, the pride of accomplishment on their faces after a project is done is worth asking 30 times to get them to do it. And when all is said and done, they will have new skills, a sense of accomplishment, and hopefully, when sitting within these walls in their 80s, will be able to say, “I built that when I was in my teens.” And frankly, being here isn’t the most practical thing I can do, yet it may be the best investment of my life — not from a financial perspective, but in the way it brings the family together and the joy being here brings us all. Yet family is everything, and I needed to lead my family here to continue the tradition, just as my dad led his family here. 

Keeping Life Interesting

We also need personal leadership. We can be a ship adrift at sea with no destination, hoping we land somewhere, or we can be deliberate, creating a map. Dreaming a little is important, dreaming a lot is even more important, and setting some goals and focusing on those goals constantly is critical. It’s why we’re here. But I like to think that we also need to get beyond our comfort zone, beyond our traditions and the things we tend to repeat, in order to keep life more interesting and fulfilling.

The downside of a summer place we love is wanting to stay here all summer long, which would prevent us from seeing the world in the summertime. In our case, we carve out a couple of weeks for our annual fine art trip, which gets us out to see the world. Seeking new and interesting experiences and visiting places we’ve never visited is enriching. 

A Lifetime of Stories

Last night we cruised over to my dad’s place on the lake, dropped in for a few minutes, and found a stack of photographs he was sorting. The stories of the places he had visited and the people he had met were fascinating. I realized that those things don’t just randomly happen, though there was randomness within those trips. But it all happened because he made an effort to lead himself to new experiences. 

Turn Left Here

I think our tendency is to look at the lives of others and think their lives are better. Certainly Facebook is a great way to see what others are doing, and in some ways, it can make us envious. But a great life isn’t always about travel to distant lands — it’s about curiosity. Some of the richest experiences of my life have resulted from wondering “Hmm, what’s down this road?” and discovering an amazing waterfall or a cool shop. Last week I wandered into a woodshop and met a fascinating man who quit his high-powered marketing job and now makes beautiful furniture out of twigs for a living. Just seeing his shop was as good as some of the experiences on our international trips. I’ll randomly stop places I see because I’m curious, and it keeps life interesting.

Being Random

Curiosity drives random experiences, but also drives us to explore the world, starting with our own town, neighboring towns, museums, and things across our region, and the experiences there can be every bit as exciting as a trip around the world. Remember, people come here from other countries to experience our lives. Being curious locally is a great starting point. 

Curiosity is also about books, events, conferences, and lectures. We randomly took a course on foraging food from the forest, and now we spot things on hikes that are edible. 

How would you rate your level of curiosity? 

Could you be more curious?

Would being more curious lead you to more experiences?

Though I’m naturally curious, I find I have to force myself to be more curious than I’d otherwise be. I have to ask myself, What have I not done that I should try? What have I not seen that I should see? If this were my last week on earth, what would I do that I always wanted to get done? 

What do my kids or grandkids need to experience? What life skills are they missing? What do they need to build their confidence?

We have no idea what we need until we discover we need it. If we sit still, stay set in our ways, stuck in one thing, we’ll never know. Curiosity has no limitations. Even if you’re stuck in one place with no ability to travel, there is much at your fingertips today that is just a click away. Sometimes it’s just a matter of shifting priorities.

Have a great, and curious, day.

Eric Rhoads

PS: I want to say thank you to all the people who have told me that they forward these Sunday missives to their friends and family. That is the highest honor you can give me. When I started writing this, I decided to not follow my path of driving adoption by intense marketing as I do with so many other things. I decided to make this organic — it can be as small or as big as it gets on its own without any additional push from me other than an occasional mention on my podcast about plein air painting. If this is appearing in your mailbox and you did not subscribe, that may not always be the case. If it’s something you want, be sure to sign up here. 

PS2: If you’re curious about seeing the South of France and its art from a new perspective, and curious about making new friends, we’ve still got a few rare openings on our annual Fine Art Trip this October. If you’re curious about figure and portrait drawing and painting, I’ve got a conference called FACE (Figurative Art Convention & Expo) in November in Williamsburg, Virginia, that is going to be fun. (There is a price increase on July 31.) And if you’re curious about plein air painting, the annual convention, next year in Denver in May, is already at 97% sold. It might be a good idea to reserve a seat. 

My cold skin is instantly warmer as I sit in the sun-baked 100-year-old Adirondack chair on the old stone porch next to the dock. Once the foundation of a lakefront house that burned decades ago, this porch has a view across a vast lake, reflecting the blue overhead and the distant forests that surround it. The water is splashing against the shore from the wake of an old aluminum rowboat en route to the next secret fishing hole. The roaring sound of its 1950s-era outboard motor briefly disrupts the chirps from the branches above. As it passes, the cheery chirping returns.

Sly and the Family Stone

Pondering memories created here at the lake with the family, I’m reminded of a song from my youth, “Hot Fun in the Summertime.” The kids will never forget their summers here, sailing across the lake with friends, cruising in speedboats towing inner tubes or skiers, hiking the deep forests, even cleaning up garbage cans invaded by rogue raccoons and bears. Though my own lake memories growing up did not involve bears, forests, or raccoons on Lake Wawasee, in Indiana, I can remember the freedom I felt driving the boat as fast as I could, long before I ever got my driver’s license, and my summer friends who lived in different places the rest of the year. 

Flames of Memories

Last night my kids went to a bonfire with other kids on the lake, all reconnecting in person after a year apart. Though they are in contact minute-by-minute all year on Snapchat and Instagram, it’s the ghost stories, the starry sky, and the roaring fires with friends that will create precious lake memories.

A Magnet to Draw Everyone Back

One of the biggest gifts I can give my family is the gift of summer memories, and it is my hope that they will come back to this place during and after college with their families, and that their kids and grandkids will also have these experiences in this special place. Our intent is to be a magnet so we can see our family more often. It’s the gift my father gave us at his place, drawing us together summer after summer, and it’s a tradition I hope to continue in our own place.

Finding Themselves

One of the great joys of my life is watching my kids grow into teens and young adults, watching their phases of growth, seeing the struggles they share, and knowing there are things that have them confused or perplexed, but they’ll never talk about them to us. It’s that time when they really start to find themselves, time when we can contribute but not control. Letting go, yet keeping a lifeline, is a delicate balance for a parent. 

When I think back to the difficulty of being a teen, it was a struggle to find myself. In an old bit, comedian Jackie Mason said, “I went to find myself, but did not know where to look. And what if I find myself and don’t like what I find?” I wish I could give them all the answers to make their paths easier, yet they have to make their own paths, their own mistakes, and probably wouldn’t listen anyway. Still, I try to impart some wisdom, hoping it will sink in somewhere down the road when it’s needed. I share the little secrets I’ve learned in this life of experience. Here are a few I’ll be sharing.

Listening Is More Powerful Than Speaking

Being a know-it-all is part of growing up — our egos are still in control and provide brash confidence. And though we need ego to push us through life, it’s not till we learn to listen that we see real progress. As a young business owner, I was demanding, knew all the answers, and was not very considerate of those around me. Little did I know then that listening to others is the key to everything. The Bible says, “There is wisdom in multiple counselors,” and those who think they have all the ideas are missing out on some of the best ideas by not listening. Listening to your co-workers/team members, listening to your customers, listening to outside advisors is all priceless. Ultimately, you have to take it all in and make a decision. You may or may not use those ideas, but some of the best things in my life and career are a result of listening.

Surround Yourself with the Best and Meet with Them Often

A variation on listening is to be a part of a mastermind group, or getting some mentors and advisors who are the best in their field. A mastermind group is a combination of great minds working together, as one mind, to help solve your problems. It took me decades to discover this treasure trove of help, and it has made more of an impact on my life and business in the past five years than all my years of experience combined. Why take the time to figure something out when you can find the best people in the world at a particular skill and ask them to help you solve your problems? No matter how good we are, we cannot see the bottle from the outside. We need others with experience to give us feedback. Seek to surround yourself with the best of the best. I’ve considered offering an art marketing mastermind group for artists, and may do it one day. The moment you let go of your ego, let go of thinking you have all the solutions and start listening and getting others to help, is the moment you see real progress begin.

Stories and Emotion Are the Most Effective Communication Tools

Facts and figures are rarely remembered, but stories almost always cut through. Stories are memorable. People visualize stories, so if you want to communicate anything to be remembered, tell it in story form. This is one of the most powerful yet simple things, and it changes everything. It’s worked for thousands of years. I can lecture my kids or my team members and it will never be remembered, but if I tell a story about the point I want to get across, it’s rarely forgotten. Just yesterday my son brought up a story I told him a decade ago, and he remembered it as clearly as the day I told him.

A Spirit of Generosity Amplifies Your Success

Giving is getting. The more you give, the more you get. In my early career it was all about me (ego), and all about getting from others. Frankly, it did not work all that well. The minute I decided that I should approach everything with a spirit of generosity, not interested in what I get, but instead interested in how much I can give, how I can help others, everything changed. For instance, we carved out a significant part of our profits and gave it to our employees. We carved out another significant piece and donated it to an organization that helps homeless people. And our attitude of being generous impacts the way we approach and address everything, hopefully making it better for everyone we encounter. “Honor the Lord with your wealth and with the first fruits of all your produce; then your barns will be filled with plenty, and your vats will be bursting with wine.” Proverbs 3:9-10.

World-Changing Purpose

Lastly: Life is short, then you die. We are each given life for a purpose. The sooner you focus on finding purpose and doing something that plays a significant role in changing the world, the more you will be fulfilled, and things will go better than ever. For me it was finding ways to help people in my two areas of passion … radio and art. Focusing on making people’s lives better, creating experiences, and helping others change their lives by finding something of value has made a giant difference.

Powerful Secrets

It took me decades to discover the power of these five tips. I discovered them one at a time, and they had a huge and powerful impact on my life and my business. They are simple principles that I have found amplify everything disproportionately. They can apply in life, in business, in charity, and in anything you do. 

Eric Rhoads

PS: When we start to reach mid-life, we start thinking that there must be more to life than this. It’s when most of us start to explore our inner thoughts and try to find our soul work. It’s when most of us discover our creative side. If that’s you and painting is what you’ve discovered, I’ve got some free lessons on some important principles you may want to learn. Don’t ignore the voices in your head. There is more to life. We are born to create. For me the discovery of painting was another life-changing moment, so another tip or secret … find something you love doing to create something. Find your art, and your life will be filled with interest, challenge, and joy.

PS2: When you walk into our 120-year-old camp on the lake, you’ll find a photo of a young girl planting a birch tree with her father. Today that tree at the edge of the water is a giant. We continued that tradition this week with our triplets, planting a new birch by the water. This birch has three trunks, representing our triplets. Its photo will hang beside the other for future residents to discover when this tree also becomes a giant.

PS3: A shout-out to Dean Pickering, editor supreme who helps create our art instruction videos. Today is his birthday! We love him and honor him today.

Flashes of lightning so powerful they illuminate the dark billowing clouds in the sky, creating a late Independence Day fireworks display. Faint and distant roars of thunder continue as if they’ll never end, with an occasional boom for effect.

On Golden Pond

I’m rubbing my hands together to warm them in the cold front that traveled in with the rains, yet I cherish this old screened-in porch so much, I cannot skip a morning here. Each morning I come here with my coffee and my breakfast, and it’s where I end each day to enjoy the warm afternoon light as it floods the distant trees with orange. After dinner, it’s where I sit to enjoy the silence, with an occasional welcome interruption from the cry of the loons. This is Golden Pond.

Three Views

The porch is an octagon with lake views in three directions, views of the old moss- and pine-bough-covered shingle roofs in another direction, and the old lakefront fireplace on the other side. Once there stood a boathouse, when ladies wore long white dresses and men in ties and seersucker suits and round straw hats stepped into the old launch to properly cruise these lakes. Today the boathouse, the launch, and the people and their customs have disappeared. We’re much more informal, and future owners will look back on our photos to see our flip-flops, T-shirts, and plastic kayaks. Perhaps they in their drone boats will look at us as antiquated.

Deep Traditions

In spite of modern times, our little chain of lakes and its history remain deeply rooted in tradition, partly because most of the families on the lake have been here since the camps’ founding 120 years ago. In Late July and August there are sailboat races in old wooden boats constructed for the lake, boats that have been sailing for 12 decades. There is a Labor Day tea, where awards are presented to winning sailors. I’m proud that my son Berkeley has been the recipient a couple of years in a row. 

Gather to Worship in a Unique Way

On Sundays many of us gather at the old stone church, open only in the summer months. To get there we have to hop in a boat and go to a distant landing to get to our cars. In the old days, lake families would gather at “Pulpit Rock,” where the preacher would stand with families who came there in old wooden boats to listen and worship. Then on Sunday nights they would gather in one of the camps (the name they use for homes here) to sing hymns. The tradition has continued for 120 years and has been in the same camp for the last 60. It’s a wonderful tradition. And somehow families keep it alive to keep the lake from losing its character.

Time Tunnel

Living here in the summer is like living in a time machine. Life is slow — only recently did we get Internet, the one thing that allows those of us who work to work from here. Families gather socially all summer and show up in their old wooden boats. (Something we don’t have here but aspire to acquire one day.) Some have televisions, while others, like us, prefer life without them. I can go the whole summer without seeing the news, and my news comes only via the grapevine, which is refreshing. Frankly, I love life without the news and don’t like that they get us all keyed up and polarized so we’ll watch more. It’s an addiction I can do without.

Feeling at Home

Laurie and I had never lived in an old house until we moved into this camp recently. Like all things old, it’s a bit of a money pit, as harsh winters make repairs necessary each spring. But we have our meals in the old kitchen or dining room where families have connected for 120 years. Within a week of moving in, we both felt like we had been here forever. It’s like living in grandma and grandpa’s house. We feel very much at home.

Swinging Back

There is a book called Generations by William Strauss and Neil Howe that talks about how society changes and how, about every 80 years, our tastes change as we go through generational cycles. It’s true in art too. And it reflects our attitudes, which is pointed out in the book Pendulum, written by my buddies Roy H. Williams and Michael Drew. And I can feel the pendulum swinging back in a different direction.

Moving Away from Digital

There is a lot of evidence that younger people are starting to swing away from digital and move back to the things they didn’t have growing up, which is why vinyl records are hot, why young readers are returning to printed books and magazines, and why they are looking for ways to engage in real life experiences. They are not shedding their digital worlds, but starting to seek ways to escape being all-digital.

Escape to Civility

I for one have found that escape is critical. At my events I make it a point to tell people that they will be asked to leave if they engage in political discussions because we’re there to escape the noise of life, stress, and politics, to be replaced by connecting with people on a deeper level, making friendships and enjoying nature as we allow our creative bones to rattle a bit. Though we all care deeply about our country, we have become very polarized and have lost the civility to hear the opinions of others, and it is resulting in friendships lost. 

That is why my “no drama” rule applies to politics at my painting events, and here in paradise. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I care more about the people I love finding things to talk about that don’t include politics. I’m thinking of making a sign: “Politics Not Spoken Here.” Imagine how much richer our lives and friendships would be if we could keep our opinions about politics to ourselves and enjoy our conversations and friendships, and stop disrespecting others because they don’t think they way we think. It shows how we’ve become narrow thinkers when we all think we’ve evolved.

Take Advantage of Summer

Summers are a special time, a chance to get away, a chance to reconnect, a chance to work a little less and enjoy a little more. What would happen if you created a mental escape from the things that cause stress, that cause disagreement, the things that make you fume?

Be an Ostrich

I’m taking a media vacation this summer. I’m not watching the news, I’m not listening to the radio in the car, I’m not reading the papers, and I’m avoiding social media that involves news or politics. I refuse to read a news website all summer. If the world comes to an end, I’ll be the one that didn’t stress about it for weeks leading up to it. I’m avoiding news, debates, and any political discussion with anyone. If politics comes up, I change the subject. If it continues, I politely excuse myself. And I’m happier for it. Last summer I took a two week “email and cell phone” escape. This summer I’m escaping media.

Can you do it for a summer? Can you create a mental escape? Can you get your friends to do it? 

I’m not exactly sure how many people are reading this each Sunday, but I’m told these e-mails get forwarded a lot. What would happen if all the readers, and their friends, took the summer off for a mental escape?

Join me. Your tense, stress-filled, disappointed, and outraged brain will thank you.

I promise you won’t miss it.

Eric Rhoads

PS: The no drama/no politics policy will be in effect at our Fine Art Trip this coming October when we go behind the scenes to see the art world around Provence and the South of France, the French Riviera, and then Scotland. It is one of the finest ways in the world to see art, to make new friends, and to have a great lifetime memory. There are just a few slots still open.

Last week I had an amazing experience. I spent two days going through the archives at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, working on a project. It’s a wonderful museum, and they are celebrating 50 years, so it’s a good time to go. And just down the road is Chesterwood, the home and studio of Daniel Chester French, the sculptor who did the Lincoln Memorial statue of Lincoln. (I was pleased to see Fine Art Connoisseur on sale in the gift shop.) And there are lots of museums nearby. The Berkshire Museum is a lovely old classic museum building with a wonderful John MacDonald show going on, and the Clark Museum nearby has a Renoir show. Lots to do and see this summer.

A reddish orange glow filled the sky like a Hudson River School scene — a sunrise so brilliant and so colorful, no one would believe it in a painting. The light streamed in through my window, awakening me far too early, as summer sunrises do. Covers over my head, I managed to fall back to sleep and get a couple more hours. Now, on this old porch, the sun is brilliantly reflecting off the water like a Joseph McGurl painting, shimmering into my eyes directly in front of me.

The tick of the old Sessions clock from the living room fills my ears on this otherwise quiet morning. Birds frolic through the trees and there is complete stillness on the lake, the water barely moving.

The first savory sip of my coffee is flavor-filled and glorious. If you close your eyes and take a sip, it makes a regular, mundane thing seem spectacular.

Purging Paintings

This morning my back is scolding me for abusing it yesterday as I moved stacks and stacks of old paintings out of storage in the boathouse into the old workshop, my new makeshift art studio. Since my mother’s passing and my goal to purge things I no longer need, I realize I’ve been holding on to these paintings for decades. Most I would not show anyone, embarrassed by their simplicity and lack of skill — and fearful that they could make it into the market if something should happen to me. Each proudly holds my signature because when I made them, I was proud of them. Today, as a much more accomplished painter, I see them as lessons and experiments. Yesterday I had them piled up and ready for the trash, when my sister-in-law asked to look through them before I dumped them. She grabbed a couple she liked, which made me realize that they had some value to someone. Now, I’m reconsidering my hoarding, not sure if I should keep them for sentimental reasons, or just photograph them for memory and let them go.

What You Own Owns You

At my recent painting event someone said, “What you own owns you.” My hoard of old paintings, and the boxes of stuff we recently moved, are great examples. Things that have sentimental value, along with things you hate to throw away because you might need them someday — or because you paid a lot for them, even though they’re worthless today.

I’ve not yet unpacked the clothes I moved and have done just fine with a couple of pairs of pants and a couple of shirts for the past two weeks. Why do I need more?

Handcuffs

Some of us own a lot, some own little. But we truly are owned by what we own. I think of a reader, whose name I shouldn’t mention, who a year ago told me they wanted to move but dreaded moving and going through “so much stuff.” And they were handcuffed to their state because selling would mean massive taxation that would impact their retirement. They were owned by what they owned. Months after telling me this, a fire took everything and painfully gave them the freedom they sought.

The Dream They Sell Us

Our media and success gurus talk about making boatloads of money so we can own the houses, the jets, the boats, and all the stuff, but what no one ever talks about is how those things own you. Each has to be maintained, houses have taxes and need new roofs and need to be repaired, as do cars and boats. My friend who owns a jet has millions in annual expenses. Once you get these things, you have to make more money to keep them. They become like addictions that have to be satisfied. 

The Pressure of a Business

The same is true for a business. Some of us follow the dream of building a business, but once we accomplish that dream, those businesses own us. We have the costs of employees, benefits, insurance, rent, taxes, and we have the pressure of making sure those employees can take good care of their families. Suddenly that business owns you and creates that pressure to make sure it continues. With that comes the need to continually grow (sitting still is going backwards) and continually innovate to keep up with the marketplace. And that need to keep things going means we make decisions that we might not make if we did not have that pressure. A business owns you.

We Can’t Get Enough!

The more we get, the more we want, the more we have to keep generating income, and the more we are owned. And the cycle never seems to end. For instance, that home has taxes and maintenance forever and into retirement. If you plan to stay, you have to have set aside enough, including enough for the unexpected and for increases over time. 

Obsessions That Own Us

I used to collect antique radios, and I had over 100 of them. My brother collects books and has thousands. A friend collects, and has hundreds of dolls. Lots of my friends collect paintings. At some point those things we love having around us have to find a new home, either once we’re relocating or downsizing, or once we pass on. When cleaning out my mom’s stuff, I found all kinds of “collections,” and I have no idea if they are valuable or not, but it was left to us to figure out. Now her stuff owns us until it’s resolved.

Where Does Happiness Lie?

I’ve seen surveys about the happiest people on earth, and I’ve met people who live in poverty worse than anything most of us could imagine — yet they are happy. Many of us are happy too, but many can never get enough, or are griping about the chains of ownership … the costs to keep something going.

Are Sacrifices Worth It?

Stages of life impact state of mind. The chains of ownership become heavier with age. And we ultimately have to determine what burdens we’re willing to carry for the things we own. For me, for instance, the burdens of owning a business are worth all the effort because I’m seeing lives changed.

Needing Less 

When I was a young man I wanted stuff. I wanted cool cars, I dreamed of owning big houses … I never got all the stuff I dreamed of (which in hindsight was a blessing). As I got older those things meant less to me. There was a time when I had a Porsche and a BMW and a Volvo, yet today I’m happy with my 16-year-old Honda Element, my favorite car ever. And it does not own me much, where the other cars had payments and cost $1,000 with every visit to the dealership. 

What Are the Tradeoffs?

Today I think twice about what I want to own. What am I willing to put up with? Does the reward exceed the trouble and the cost? Our little cabin on the lake draws the family together and hopefully will keep the kids and their families returning for a lifetime and possibly generations. Though it’s a lot of upkeep because of harsh winters and because it’s over 125 years old, at the moment, it’s worth being owned. If it ever becomes more than we can bear, we won’t let it own us anymore. 

Now, with every purchase, I’m asking myself, will this own me? Will it be worth it? Will it be difficult to get rid of? Do I really want and need it?

What owns you?

What is it that you own that binds you?

What do you have that has become a burden?

What are the strings, the efforts, and the costs associated with the things you think you want?

What do you own that is impacting your happiness?

My number one goal is happiness in life. Everything we do should focus on that, because without it, all the hard parts of life become only a burden.

Since Independence Day is right around the corner (it’s hard to believe tomorrow is July already), it’s time to gain independence from the chains that bind you.

Eric Rhoads

PS: Our family has a habit of thanking service members for their service. We have our independence because of them and those like them who put their lives on the line. At our Publisher’s Invitational I met Matt Borax, a former Special Forces officer who told me about his experiences in the service. He pointed out the impact of PTSD and that after years of training to be on high alert, and then seeing combat, that high alert never goes away for many once they are home. These people are always keyed up and may feel that a bomb or a sniper is right around the next corner. Painting has been the one thing that has changed his life and helped him relax and get away from this curse of PTSD. I told Matt about our PleinAir Force Veterans Squad, where we are training hundreds of former service members in how to paint, something he strongly supports. If you know someone who needs to get a mental break from PTSD or other issues, painting is an excellent outlet. Let me know and I’ll put them in touch with someone who can help in their area. Or they can start with the very basics at my free online lessons at www.paintbynote.com, which starts with the things every painter needs to know first.

PS2: I spent part of last week at the Norman Rockwell Museum on a project I’ll reveal next March. It’s an incredible museum and a must-see if you’re in the Berkshires. 

PS3: I’ve sold out my Ghost Ranch Fall Color Week this fall. I am taking a group of art lovers and collectors on a trip to Provence and the South of France this October. You can learn more about that at finearttrip.com. There are only six slots left.

Like black lace silhouetted against the bright sun, branches of delicate pine trees fill the view from the old screened-in octagon-shaped porch beside the lake. The shrieking yet soothing sound of loons crying out with melancholy melodies echoes off the faraway banks. I can faintly but clearly hear the voices of fishermen in the distance, yet I can barely make out their boat, suspended in the dense morning fog.

History Continues

Summertime has transported me to my muse … the lake in the vast Adirondack park, with its mountain views, deep forests, and a blanket of quiet. This porch was built in 1896, just 30 years after the Civil War. Over the last 123 years, this porch has shared its old, worn wicker rocking chairs with seven different families and their friends, some of whose descendants still live on this lake. Though the old wooden beadboard walls can’t talk, a treasury of old photos with notes and explanations tells the story of this camp, its owners, its old wooden boats, and buildings lost in fires, moved, reconstructed, and remodeled. The very chair I sit in, along with most of the furnishings, have passed from owner to owner, because they belong here in this boat-access-only camp for rustic summers. Our goal is to preserve this legacy, only adding our touches, which in my case will be paintings that I hope will live on in this house for generations, so my kids can tell their great-grandkids that their father painted those old paintings here on the lake.

Much-Needed Balance

Over 30 years ago, when we first landed on this lake, my father announced that this was one of the few places on earth he could truly relax, with the calm coming almost instantly. It’s been the same for me. Our busy year of kids, school, business, and life takes a long, relaxing pause here in this place. It provides much-needed balance.

A week ago, as my ninth annual Adirondack Publisher’s Invitational paint retreat ended, one of my guests said, “You seem to have achieved perfect balance in your life. Would you write about balance? We all could use a little help.”

The Value of Chaos

Though “perfect” is a goal, balance is the love child of chaos. It takes stress and a crazy life to come to the realization that balance is critical. Like all things, you don’t know what you don’t want until you have it — and don’t want it. For me, balance was nonexistent. Mimicking my workaholic father and his high work ethic, I’d work from sunrise to midnight most days, and did so for years. I’d go decades without a vacation, and I was driven to get more done. Not only was I having a ball, I was making things happen, and it was hugely rewarding. But the intensity, the stress, and the constant level of activity had its downside. I was constantly lacking sleep, resulting in chronic crankiness, and I pushed others to work just as hard, which resulted in their being cranky too. Over time I became a different person, someone I did not love. Some might say an insensitive jerk, always pushing for more.

There was no time for leisure or vacation. My wife begged me to take just three days to celebrate our 10th anniversary, which I resisted but (thankfully) gave in to. We flew on the Concorde, spent two days in England, and came back home. Then it was back to work.

Off to the Hospital I Go

One moment 25 years ago I was sitting at the long conference table in my office, in an intense meeting, and suddenly my face went numb. Then my left arm, then my left side. Not wanting to cause alarm, I excused myself, went to my top desk drawer, pulled out a baby aspirin and took it. (A week earlier my friend Wayne Cornils had told me a baby aspirin had saved his life when he had a heart attack and suggested I should keep it nearby at all times.) I returned to the meeting, finished, then drove myself to the ER. They could not do an MRI for two days, so I drove myself four hours to the Mayo Clinic. Tests were inconclusive, there was no evidence of a stroke — maybe because of the aspirin — and eventually the feeling returned.

I was lucky. I’d had a wakeup call. Balance was calling.

Balance calls when you have chaos in your life. I could have ignored the call and probably would have gone to an early grave.

Vacation Half of the Time?

One day in a meeting with one of the richest men I knew, a billionaire, he told me that he takes 26 weeks a year vacation on his yacht in the Virgin Islands. He convinced me that he was more productive and more successful after he achieved balance. His job was so stressful, he told me, that he was making reactive decisions and not using thinking time. When he started taking more time off, he started becoming more successful. That’s what I needed to hear.

Though I did not have a yacht, or a jet to get to the islands, and I didn’t feel I could take 26 weeks, I could start with two weeks a year and gradually, over time, take a little more. But I’ve since discovered that balance does not come from vacation time, it comes from a balance in your daily life.

Giving Up 18-Hour Days

I had to admit I was a workaholic, and, though I love to work, I knew I had to give myself some other joy. That’s when I took up painting. It’s also when I stopped working 18-hour days. I told myself I had to get eight hours’ sleep a night and had to give time to my family, my friends, and myself.

Once I started painting, I got balance in my life by de-stressing at night when I got home. You can’t paint and be stressed. So I’d paint nights and weekends (and still do). I started going outdoors to paint, and that made me want to travel more.

I did not want to be one of those people who waited till retirement to do all the fun things, so I started building them into my life. I made a list of what I wanted to do, which included a trip a year to Europe for a week or two of painting. But I could not afford to do that, so I created events for my business where I would take others.

Making a Balance Plan

Like all good things in life, balance has to be planned. You start by designing your ideal life because the things that bring you joy also bring you balance. Work brought me joy — but I was doing too much of it. A muscle that is always tensed eventually cramps up, which is why I think we need to use different mental muscles to create variety, to keep life interesting and allow the mental muscles to relax.

Balance is different for you than for me. I can’t sit on a beach to vegetate. I need to be doing something … reading, painting, drawing. Knowing yourself is key.

Too Much of a Good Thing

I also think too much balance can get out of balance. We’re made to work, made to be productive, made to have some stress. Vacation or doing nothing all the time probably isn’t great for balance or self-esteem. Most of my retired friends tell me that you can only play so much golf or tennis.

Are you out of balance?

Ask yourself these questions…

Do you have a smile on your face most of the time?

Are you grumpy or cranky most of the time?

Do you ever wish you were doing something else?

Are you feeling stress more often than not?

Do you wish you had a change of scenery?

As I’ve said before, we all tell ourselves stories, and the story of being out of balance includes “They need me at the office” or “They can’t do without me” or “The business will fall apart if I’m not there” or “I don’t have time or money for balance or vacation” or “Balance is for wimps and losers.”

If you take a vacation and tell yourself you’re not ready to go back to work, maybe you need to find some balance so you can look forward to going back.

I don’t have “perfect” balance. But I work hard at achieving balance, and when I get out of balance, I feel it. Like an alcoholic who easily slips back into alcohol, a workaholic easily slips into working too much. It’s a need to be needed, a feeling like they can’t do without you. But they can.

We can’t go through life like a pinball in a pinball machine, bouncing and reacting. We need a plan. Those with the best plans often live the most enriching lives.

Balance requires a plan.

Eric Rhoads

PS: At my event last week I met many people who were there because they read Sunday Coffee or they listen to my PleinAir Podcast. I’d like to thank them for showing up and trusting that they would have a good time. I think they did, because most signed up for our 10th-anniversary reunion Publisher’s Invitational next June (it’s already 60 percent sold out). Many have also signed up for my Fall Color Week invitational at Ghost Ranch, which sold out this week and now has a waiting list. Thank you.

The greatest next experience I can offer that still has a few seats left is my Fine Art Connoisseur magazine behind-the-scenes art trip. These trips are life-changing for those who love art and want to see things you cannot see as a typical tourist. This year we’re going to the South of France, Provence, Nice, and many other areas, and there is an optional post-trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. And though it’s not a painting trip but a luxury art trip, there are a few artists who squeeze in a little painting, so this year I’m offering a pre-trip for painters to Saint-Paul DeVance in the South of France, a historic place for painters. If you want a lifetime memory and want to join a family of people who love art, check it out.

PPS: Last week I had a major disappointment. I had tried to buy a business out of bankruptcy, and after weeks of planning and effort, I failed. I was seriously disappointed and sad for a couple of days, but I know that when God closes doors, there is a reason. It has not been revealed to me yet and may never be, but in my case balance comes also from prayer and trust that there is a plan and that if I let go and stop trying to control things, perfect balance will come. It was a good lesson for me and a reminder that things don’t always go the way we want them to. But I have to trust that bigger and better things are ahead.

The lake is still, reflecting like a giant mirror of rich blue cloud-filled morning sky. Cool air meeting the warmth of the water produces a thin layer of fog dangling over the glass, muting the colors of the dark forest greens and converting them to shades of blue gray. Ripples interrupt the stillness as the feet of a raptor swoop down to snatch up a small fish lingering right below the surface. In the distance a purple blue mountain hails from above, calling me to climb her.

View of a Candy Store

Last year, toward the end of summer, I hiked to the top of that mountain with my 50-pound backpack of paint, easel, tripod, painting panels, and an enthusiastic spirit. The view from the top, a giant panorama of lakes, mountains, and sky, give me more choices to paint than a candy store of tempting treats, knowing I could take only one … at least on this trip.

Creativity on Steroids

Here today, the promise of an unscheduled summer ahead, I tell myself I’ll climb it more often, get out and paint more often, and end the summer with a stack of painted memories of this, my favorite place. The Adirondacks captured my spirit decades ago, first as a photographer and then, knowing of its endless beauty, I converted to painting, which allows me to push the limits of my creativity in a way I never could with a camera.

Intentional Slowing

My conversion also slowed my pace. For decades I’d travel to distant lands, iconic scenes, and stunning vistas only to set up, take my shot, and move on to the next trophy. Somehow I felt guilty — why am I not packing a lunch or a backpack and staying here, in this one spot, all day? Why am I not camping here for a few days? The answer always came back that there was so much more to see, and stopping would keep me from seeing it all.

My Own Voice

Painters like me often use photos for reference, which comes in handy when snapping a rare moment you otherwise couldn’t capture even with a sketch pad in hand. And though I do that from time to time, I do so less now that I’ve discovered that time in a place impacts the feeling of my paintings. After all, for me it’s not about making a reference photo or recording the place for posterity, it’s about saying something more about what I see, the impact of my study of the scene, the memory of the place or the experience.

Finding Helpers

Rarely do I sell the small paintings I make on location, because they are my memories and very precious to me. On occasion my gallery will receive a bigger version, painted in the studio from one of the small studies. Each painting is tied to something … the reason I stopped the car in a particular spot or the reason I set up my easel in this place on a hike, and often the paintings hold reminders of children who stopped by alongside their parents, and I let them paint on my canvas to encourage them. Or the friends I was with, painting in the rain in the shelter of a minivan, or the animals that wandered into the scene.

A Big List

There is much to be done this summer. Not only paintings I want to do in the vast landscape, but my son wants to sit for a portrait, something he has denied me for the last 17 years. I also have a painting I want to do of a local Native American acquaintance, who has such an interesting face and such beautiful costumes. And the best Father’s Day gift of all would be time with my kids, as much as possible all summer, whether it’s them doing what I like to do, or me doing what they want to do. One son wants to hike all 46 peaks of the Adirondacks, though I may slow him down if invited.

Drawing in Family

I’ve often quoted RIchard Saul Wurman, who talks about how many summers we each have left, and how we want to make the most of them. This will be my last summer without triplet high school kids — next year at this time they will be in college. It’s hard to know if they’ll spend the rest of their summers with us. We can only hope, and try to provide a place to visit that is a magnet against their distractions of steel.

Ultimate Father’s Day

Narrowing this concept, I have to ask how many more summers, or how much more time, will our kids get with us? Or for those blessed to still have our parents, how many more summers will we get with them? This is more evident than ever since I recently lost my mother, and for me an ideal Father’s Day would be time with my wife, my kids, and my own father. For years I struggled to find the ultimate Father’s Day gift, only to come to the stark realization that the best gift I can give is time with them. It’s becoming more evident, with the prospect of distant colleges, future marriages and children in possibly faraway places, and the birds leaving the nest to start their own nests. I marvel at families who have managed to keep their kids close to home, yet I also want my kids to experience the world and chase the dreams that may take them as far away as Mars.

Looking Beyond Flaws

Today as we honor our fathers, we don’t have to honor their flaws, their mistakes, or our grievances over past conflicts. It’s a day to look the other way, and honor them for the gift of life. For some it may end there, while others honor the gift of sacrifice, of their fathers’ toil to keep food on the table, for the time fathers took nurturing us when they had to find a way in spite of a busy schedule or working multiple jobs. We honor their words, their stories, their wisdom, and their love.

Honor Good Memories

This day is painful for some and meaningless for others, and for you, we honor the good memories and hope that the painful memories don’t cloud the good that came from the time you had.

Here’s to You, Dad

To fathers, I salute you. I never understood what fatherhood meant until I had my own kids. I hope your day is filled with calls, or visits, or at least good memories. It’s not the day to dredge up the bad, or if it is, remember that the most powerful word in the dictionary is forgiveness.

Eric Rhoads

PS: My dad is 93, in great shape physically and mentally, socially active, working 15-hour days, and he loves life. I consider myself blessed to have a dad who has tried to be there for me and my brothers. If he could not be there in person, he was on the phone. Sometimes he would drag us to business meetings or to work conventions — we often didn’t want to go, and though we thought he was teaching us future lessons to apply to our own lives (and he was), I now know he was grabbing moments and creating memories.

One of my most powerful memories was a visit with my dad to New York when I was 14, to a convention or something. When we had a free Saturday, he asked what I wanted to do, and I wanted to visit a New York radio station. He made it happen. Throughout his life, he made sacrifices we could not understand as kids, but the fruit of those sacrifices was used to build memories in our later years. I have him to thank for introducing us to the Adirondacks, and so much more.

No, he’s not perfect. But then, there is only one perfect Father. The rest of us are flawed, sometimes make boneheaded decisions, and we go through life like pinballs, bouncing from one experience to the next, never knowing if we’ll bounce around for a while or end up in the gutter, hoping to get another shot, after a bad decision. We do what we know, we do the best we can, but we are not perfect. Rather than looking at the flaws of our fathers (which sometimes are strengths that we perceive as flaws), let’s embrace them for who they are and understand that our expectations of perfection or what we want them to be may also be flawed.

Dad, I’m grateful for the endless love, the endless sacrifices, and your endless efforts to keep making memories for the family.