Warm sunshine peeked through a slot in the closed blinds of the bedroom, aiming right for my face as if to tell me it’s time to wake. Covers quickly went over my head, yet the sun had done its job and I could sleep no more. So I meandered to the coffee pot, then made my way to the pollen-covered porch to enjoy the perfect spring morning.

My mind has been traveling through some paths I’ve not visited for years as part of the grieving process over the passing of my mom last week. A memory of a special time when we grabbed my mom for a road trip from Florida to Indiana, the purpose of which I can’t remember.

How Far Are We?

Driving through Tennessee, a spurt of spontaneity turned into the most meaningful hours of summer ’98 for me and Laurie, then pre-kids. “Aren’t we close to Knoxville?” I said as she studied the map (remember maps?) from the passenger seat. “Check to see how far out of the way it would take us to visit Jamestown.” She looked at me with that, “Oh, no, here we go again” look, but then told me it would not be too far out of the way at all. That’s why I love her! Though we had a destination, a time constraint, and my mom traveling with us and asleep in the back seat, Laurie said, “It wouldn’t be much out of the way at all.”

Mom’s ailing aunt and uncle lived near Knoxville, and Mom hadn’t seen them for several years … and might never see them again. Wouldn’t this be a nice surprise for her? By the time Mom woke up, we were in Jamestown, Tennessee. Mom was tickled.

The Smell of Biscuits

The next morning, the promised of a home-cooked country breakfast woke us early. Biscuits beckoned … and do they ever know how to cook biscuits in Tennessee! We burred like bees down the hilly country roads at Armathwaite, passing chicken coops built by distant cousins and homes built by other ancestors generations earlier. We passed the Mount Helen Church, built by my great-grandpa Sam Garrett, and the cemetery nearby where he rests today. Then it was down along the Honey Creek Loop to Uncle Clifford’s farm, a farm that has been in the family for at least five generations. In fact, I just learned that my grandfather had given this farm to his cousin — Uncle Clifford.

Going Back in Time

Driving toward the farm was like going back in time, and I was getting younger with every mile. This was the place where I spent my summers tending chickens, and playing in the tall corn or the waterfall nearby. When we pulled up in front of the house, the smell of breakfast made the daydream inescapable — I was 10 years old again.

I had heard that Uncle Clifford and Aunt Ruth were doing well, and when we arrived they didn’t look any different … except that they needed some assistance getting around. We did what all families do — eat and talk. I asked Uncle Clifford about family legends I had heard as a kid, and although they weren’t quite the same as I had remembered them, it was fun hearing from the eldest family patriarch. Now it’s my turn to be “The Keeper of the Legends” for a future generation. I only hope my biscuits are as good.

Holding Back Tears

Time passed, and commitments called. We had to say goodbye … always hard when you know it may be the last time. Tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, glances were loving. We drove back over that winding, family-filled road, knowing we may never drive this way again. Everyone in the car was silent as we replayed the precious moments of our visit with Clifford and Ruth and committed those moments forever to memory. Mile after mile, as we got farther from the farm, I felt my years return. By the time we reached the Interstate, I was just another middle-aged guy, with a tear in the corner of each eye.

We almost didn’t make the detour to see Uncle Clifford and Aunt Ruth. It was a major inconvenience, put us a full day behind schedule, and wasn’t in the plan. But the little voice that whispered us toward Armathwaite made the next few hours the most memorable and meaningful of our trip.

Taking a driving vacation this summer? Follow your heart. Change the plan. Listen to the voices.

Eric Rhoads

PS: I adapted this piece from one I wrote on July 31, 1998. I discovered it in an envelope my mom kept. She kept everything I ever wrote or everything written about me, including an editorial I once wrote called “Listen to Your Mother.”

That was, in fact the last time we ever saw Ruth and Clifford, and the last time we visited the family farm and church. And now my mom is gone too, which makes me especially grateful that we took this detour, and took her on a road trip that year.

We all live very busy lives, where impulsive side trips can be annoying, but looking back, that 24 hours became one of the richest memories of my life. It turns out it was one of the most important things I have ever done. At the time, it was a sudden impulse. I remember thinking … “Not this trip, maybe someday in the future.” Now, a couple of decades later, I can say I’ve never driven that way again. But it’s something I need to do … go see the old farm, and little cousins I played with as a child who are now senior citizens. Take the time. Take the side trips. Grab a family member and take them back to their childhood.

PS2: I’d love to make some new friends and have you join me in the Adirondacks starting June 8 for a week of painting and hanging out together. I’ve made some of my closest friendships as a result of this event.

There are days that, in spite of the bright light, the cheery spring flowers, and the perfect spring weather, are not perceived as they are meant to be. Today, for me, is one of those rare days when I’m a lot bluer than normal.

An Urgent Call

On Sunday, just after writing last week’s Sunday Coffee, I received a call that my dear mother was sleeping continually, not eating, and had needed to be rushed to the hospital. Monday I was on a plane, and I arrived at about 2 in the afternoon to find my mom lying in a hospital bed struggling for her life.

A Sight I Never Expected to See

The shock of seeing her in this state was beyond anything I had comprehended previously, and I assumed she would not know me or see me until she recovered, if she recovered. I tried talking to her, but she just lay there.

Precious Last Words

In a moment of utter frustration, knowing she had hearing issues (a family tendency caused by skeet shooting at a young age), I took my own hearing device and placed it in her ear, and cranked up the volume. Suddenly she perked up, opened her eyes, and saw those of us who were there. Though her speech was slurred, she communicated with us, and I heard the words “I love you” from my mom. Her big blue eyes opened briefly, giving her assurance that my brother, sister-in-law, and I were there, and a big smile came across her otherwise struggling face.

Without the Smile, She Was Different

That smile was her trademark. This is a woman who never met a person she did not like, and if she did, we never knew it. She wanted everyone to feel her love. And I quickly realized I had never in my life seen this beautiful woman without that smile. This hospital visit was the first as I watched her struggle with pain.

Tough Decisions

Soon, a meeting with the doctors gave us the bad news that her meds were not working, and I had to make the most important adult decision of my life, which was to remove her care, move her into hospice, and allow her body to shut down in peace. In spite of its difficulty, it never once felt like the wrong decision. And though I wanted to cling to my past with her, I knew we had to keep her comfortable and allow her to enter her next chapter.

An Angelic Moment

People tell me of odd occurrences they experience in this situation. Some talk of loved ones awakening before they pass, calling out that they see heaven. In my case, the night before, I laid my head on her arm and said a prayer that she be taken without more struggle, and when I opened my eyes, I saw her in a somewhat white, almost fuzzy light. Her skin was youthful and her silver hair was glowing. It was clearly an angelic, peaceful look. I can’t explain it, I was not hallucinating, and it was so special that I can’t even begin to articulate it. It was almost as though she had been taken from her body at that moment, though she continued to labor hard with her breathing.

An Experience I’d Never Trade

Hours passed, and there were a few more moments of consciousness and recognition, a few words, and then a lot of sleeping. She responded when I kissed her goodnight and left for the evening, thinking we would watch her go through this for a couple more days. Yet when morning came, before I made it to the hospital, she had graduated to the next level in the cycle of life.

This, the hardest day of my life, was met with a lot of tears, but remarkably, a lot of feeling OK about her being ready. I spent a lot of time consoling others, which made my own angst over this moment somehow easier.

And, with death, for the first time, I was faced with the decisions so many others have handled in the past, such as funeral and burial arrangements, things I’d never before considered. Then, in a cathartic sort of way, sorting through her stuff, finding papers and photos for the rest of the day, was also part of the process.

An Empty Day

Flowers will arrive at my mom’s house for this weekend because I had already planned ahead, yet I remember thinking last Sunday, before this all happened, whether this would be my last Mother’s Day with her. And today is my first without her. And today, I realize for the first time that Mother’s Day is as much about the rest of us celebrating our mothers as it about their accepting our adoration.

Those of you who have been through this in the past, who miss your mom, sometimes after 30 or 50 years, know exactly how empty it feels. And if you’ve still got your mom, cherish every moment.

Giving Up Everything

My friend Skip tells me he would give all his wealth, all his success, everything he has, just for one more conversation with his mother and his dad. Our wealth lies in those we love, not the things we acquire. It’s acutely obvious to me today, more than ever.

If Only

As I look back, regrets in my mind, I see too many times when my mom did not receive the respect she earned and deserved, whether it be teen years of rolling my eyes or talking back, or dismissing her wishes in her older years. In an instant, those regrets sting.

In Celebration

Today, though my heart hurts, I celebrate my own mother, and the mothers around this earth. Being a mom can be a thankless job, brutally difficult at times, yet amazingly rewarding. There is no possible way to accommodate all the sacrifices these women make on our behalf, so the least we can do is give them our time and attention today.

Join me as I toast my own mom, and those around us today.

Eric Rhoads

PS: My pastor often talks about how the world’s religions make us think we can earn our way into heaven. Yet heaven is for perfection, and perfection can only come through your life being substituted by the perfect one. It’s not about earning. No one is good enough to earn their way. It’s about accepting the gift of Christ.

Not one doubt enters my mind on this day when a celebration is taking place, with big smiles as my mom enters the Kingdom to see those who went before her. Though I rarely talk about my faith here, because people tend to take offense (not my intent), today, in honor of my mom and her Maker, I celebrate with her. Tears and grief cannot overcome the joy I feel for her at this moment, making this the perfect Mother’s Day for her.

Spring sprinkles kiss the tall green grass as a light wind makes the stems flow like dancers in unison. The long porch is entertained by the droplets pinging off the metal roof like BB’s. Mindlessly I watch droplets dangle off the branches of wet spring foliage and drop into the puddles below, each drop creating a circle of waves as it hits, pushing farther and farther out from its center until one circle intersects another. These puddles are filled with waves created by the little circles. Though there is science behind the inertia of the droplet, the energy and movement, I can’t help but wonder what purpose they serve.

Throwing a pebble into a still pond makes a slight ripple, while a larger rock makes a visible splash and pushes much larger waves much farther out. The bigger the rock, the bigger the wave, the bigger its reach.

The Weight of Droplets

You, me, and others are droplets into the water of the lives around us. Our waves touch and intersect, and often ripple through the world.

Though soft-spoken and quiet, some of us have an impact and a ripple that make change happen. Others, with a larger platform, a louder voice, and greater influence, spread our ripples over longer distances. And, like the puddle in front of me, a small circular wave intersects with another small wave, which intersects with others … passing information from one to another as waves cross.

Though volume and a large platform tend to get heard more, a soft voice with powerful words can ripple through the world with equal or stronger impact. Words at a whisper often have more power than at a scream.

Yet one thing is required for your voice, even your quiet words, to be heard. They have to be spoken. The droplet has to hit the water in order to be amplified.

The Famous Unknown Artist

In my art marketing training, I speak of an artist who died unknown, but whose work was discovered after his death and ultimately exhibited in major museums. A soft-spoken postal worker in England, he never told a soul about his work. He was a loner with no known friends or family. We’ll never know if he created his art with hopes of one day being noticed, or if he did it for himself and never cared for recognition. The only reason his droplet hit the puddle was because his landlord discovered the art upon this artist’s death. Perhaps, if he had revealed his art to the world while living, he could have enjoyed the impact of his art and seen the effect of his ripple.

It was lucky he was discovered at all. Another, less perceptive landlord might have hauled it all to a dumpster and a life’s work may have been wasted.

Meek and Reserved

I recently met someone who was quiet, meek, and almost unable to speak for herself but revealed to me that she had dreams of becoming a famous artist. Yet her fears of speaking up were preventing her from realizing her dreams. I coached her on how to overcome these issues, and she is already starting to come out of her shell after staying inside it for almost 50 years. Now, her droplets are about to hit the water.

I’m thankful she spoke up and shared this fear, but in the process she was hoping someone would solve her problem for her. And though I nudged her with some advice, she had not fully accepted the fact that her future was in her own hands, and waiting for someone else to solve her problems was folly. One wonders what kind of parenting left a child with such insecurities.

I firmly believe each of us is placed here for a very specific purpose and that it’s our responsibility to make sure that our droplets hit the water and spread. We may think we have nothing to offer or that others don’t want to hear from us, or we may fear speaking up or stepping out — yet if we don’t do it for ourselves, who will?

Waiting for Prince Charming

Too often we wait for things to be perfect, but waiting for perfection is an excuse to take no action. Or we wait for permission, or for someone to come along and rescue us and make our dreams happen, but Prince Charming never comes. We can’t wait for the knight in shining armor or for someone to give us permission. We have to be our own advocate. Though “random” discoveries happen, they don’t happen a lot.

Lives can be wasted because of our fears. The ripple from what we have to offer may never be experienced by others until we discover how to advocate for ourselves.

Ask yourself this…

Which is worse? Never experiencing your dreams, or living with the fear that something bad might happen if you step out and try?

I’ve met hundreds of people who are writing books that will never be published because the books never get done. When I probe why, it usually boils down to fear of failure. Books that never get written never get published.

Excuses are fears in disguise.

You know the excuses … “I don’t have enough money, time, experience, education, degrees, connections, knowledge … I’m afraid of failure, being laughed at, getting rejected, someone won’t like me if I’m successful.” Or, “No one wants to hear what I have to say. I don’t have the advantages of others.”

Our lives are meant to change the lives of others, and each of us has something to offer that needs to be heard, seen, and experienced by the world.

What is stopping you from dropping your pebble in the water?

Eric Rhoads

PS: Last week close to a thousand artists gathered at the Plein Air Convention & Expo in San Francisco. There is no way to explain or articulate the experience, but I watched lives changed thanks to the generous faculty members who taught and worked with others. I am grateful to everyone who came, and I want to say thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life.

I met hundreds of Sunday Coffee readers who came to learn more about the plein air lifestyle experience. It was good to have many of you take that first step. I also met dozens of people who did their first plein air painting, and some who did their first painting of any kind. Thanks for trusting us to show you how.  We announced our next event will be in May 2020 in Colorado, and as of this morning, we’ve already sold 411 seats — a year in advance. If you want to come, but you’re fearing it, the quarter-inch step is to sign up now so you have all year to look forward to it.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as I open the creaky old door from the house to the sun-drenched porch. A blast of arctic air sends a message that winter is fighting hard not to let go, not to lose control to spring. The two have been fighting it out for a couple of weeks now. Soon, hopefully, spring will win, and then before long spring will lose to summer.

A brilliant green layer of pollen covers the long boards on the porch and the old wicker chairs are spray-painted with this evil dust, which I brush away before I sit. Achoo!

Today, much of the world celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ, whom Christians believe died, was buried, and returned to life three days later. Happy Easter. Last year at this time, we spoke about personal resurrection.

Memories of Easter flood my brain. I remember my crafter mom spending weeks before Easter covering her shoes with different fabrics so she would have “new” shoes for the holiday. She would also make a new Easter hat. We always dressed up for church, me in my bright red sport coat, with my 007 Secret Agent cap gun shoulder holster under my jacket. One of our grandparents would always make a feast centered around a giant chunk of meat. Coloring eggs was always fun, as was hunting for our Easter baskets. Our triplets are 17 and still love the tradition. Maybe we’ll hide them in their cars this year.

Easter signals a new season.

Spring is new birth, new life, new growth.

Summer is full, rich life.

Fall is aging.

Winter is death.

Each brings us a reminder to embrace them for what they are.

The longer I live, the wiser I tell myself I become, and I realize that the biggest hindrance to a rich, fully lived life is a focus on self.

In the season of spring, we’re full of energy, life, and self-confidence. A little cocky. When summer hits, success breeds more arrogance and belief in ourselves. We start to believe our own press.

Fall brings falling leaves, sagging midsections, backaches, often other health issues, and the unwanted realization that we’re not in control at all. We start facing the reality that once winter hits, we’d better have finished everything we wanted to get done. Suddenly it becomes evident that our cockiness, our arrogance, our over-inflated self-confidence never served us all that well and we need to focus on what’s truly worth the time we have remaining.

The reality is that we never had control, we just thought we did. And when we’re focused entirely on self, we miss the importance of reliance on the grand plan for our lives, and the joy that comes from serving others and serving our Master.

This isn’t a suggestion to give up positive thinking or to age out before your time, or to give in or give up, but I’m starting to understand that loss of self is where we begin to focus on what is intended for us, which is where the rich treasure lies. It too is a form of resurrection because when the “focus on self” dies, the true self is revealed.

Happy Easter.

Eric Rhoads

PS: I have to admit that I’m pretty excited about getting to San Francisco for our big event next week. For me it’s like Thanksgiving with my plein air painter family. I’m truly looking forward to seeing everyone out there. If you want to watch the noise, you can follow me on Instagram @ericrhoads or Facebook @ericrhoads. (Facebook puts a limit on friends that I can’t change, but you can still follow my feeds.)

A flash of light so bright it jolted me out of my bed, and less than a second later, the ground shook like a mega missile had struck. I remember counting seconds from the flash of light to the sound of thunder. This one was so close it had to be one of the old oaks on the property of this old Texas farmhouse.

Rushing Water

A pounding like the sound of a waterfall is amplified on the old tin roof above this porch, which goes the distance of the house in the front and the back. It was always my dream to live in a house with a tin roof and a big long porch, so I could sit dry and safe in a storm.

Flights Overhead

In the sky, the sound of thunder is like continual flights overhead, and the dim gray clouds mute the light so all the trees are evenly lit with a soft glow. Though wildflowers are still in bloom around the area, there are none here, and I’m hopeful this storm will feed the bags of wildflower seeds I scattered across the property weeks ago.

A Sad Call

Soon after I awoke this morning, my dad phoned and started the call with, “I’ve got some sad news.” That’s never good, and indeed an old family friend, Gladys Gorman, had passed. I knew she was sick and I had failed to visit her in a hospital nearby in San Antonio, knowing she was in a coma at the time. I’m regretting it now.

The last time I recall seeing her was at the funeral of my all-time best friend, Charlie Willer, probably more than 12 or 14 years ago.

Full of Life

I first met Gladys over 40 years ago, when she came to work for my dad. And though she was probably only there for five or 10 years, she was in our lives forever, because she was the kind of person you wanted to be around. Full of life, full of positive reinforcement, and overflowing with joy.

Sacrifices for Others

Gladys was a living example of living on the cause side of life, which I talked about last week. I don’t know anything about her upbringing, but when I first met her, she was raising three daughters as a single mom, making sacrifices to make sure they grew up in a nice house in a good school district, which had to be a stretch for her.

Self-Educated

She made her living as a housekeeper and a cook, but she always had something on the side. I remember her having a booth at the local antique mall, selling something she had made. She was an entrepreneur and filled with ideas, most of which she pursued. She was always taking classes to better herself, listening to tapes (she asked to borrow many of the tapes I would buy to educate myself), and she was always getting certified in different things so she could make more income. Most important to her was an education for her kids.

Three Amazing Daughters

The best testament to her drive and positive attitude was that she raised three amazing daughters — one is an MD, another is also a doctor, a psychiatrist, and the third is a thriving artist. A single mom, making a living as a housekeeper, putting three girls though college. And they all turned out to be really quality people who deeply care about others.

I had a lot of time with Gladys over a few years, and I always looked forward to being with her. I can remember thinking, “I hope I see Gladys today.” I think it’s because she always made me feel so good about myself.

A Bright Spot

Gladys lived as a bright spot. To everyone she touched, she was the bright spot of their day. She projected joy, she was deeply interested in other people, and she would always make you feel good about yourself.

No Whining

I cannot imagine the hard times she had and the sacrifices she made being a single mom, working odd jobs, and still managing to get those girls the best possible education. Yet I never once saw her down, never once heard her complain about her circumstances, never once saw her play the victim. In fact, she always talked about how much she felt God had blessed her.

I Want to Be Like Her

Her passing reminds me of what I want to be. And I wanted to honor her today by telling you about her, so that her light will shine on through those of us who want to live as she did … a bright light that fills the room with joy.

Do people look forward to being around you, or do they run the other way?

Do you lift others up, or do you tear them down?

Do you share or whine too much about your circumstances, or do you accept them, embrace them for what they are, and focus on being joy-filled?

I can’t say I’ve lived up to the high bar that Gladys lived, but in her honor, I’m going to try harder.

Eric Rhoads

PS: My gut told me that I needed to go see Gladys, but I allowed busy to get in my way. Follow your gut.

Today, Palm Sunday, is a special day for many of us, and next week, Easter, is even more special. I hope you’ll find a way to gather with family next week to celebrate together. Right after Easter, my family of plein air painters will gather for a week to celebrate our craft. This past week I ran into three people who told me they were still trying to figure out how to go. I hope they do — a family gathering without all the family members isn’t as special. I’d be honored if you join that gathering. We can always find room for another seat at the table.

After a cold week, the porch is drenched in warm sun, the plants on the property are glowing as the sun streams in to light their edges, and the mountain in the distance is still purple gray. Thank goodness for spring.

“Your Ideas Are BS, Eric”

Last week I received an e-mail from an artist who had read my new marketing book. In the book I talk a lot about the importance of managing your own mindset and its impact on your life, to which she suggested that “positive thinking is complete BS.” Her words were a little stronger than that.

My Tortured Friendship

In my response I told her what I’ve learned about this recently and the story of my dear friend Chris, whom I met when I was about 18. Chris ran a local radio station, and I was a young budding broadcaster. We became friends and remained friends as he moved up the ladder to different jobs across the country. We shared a love for radio broadcasting.

Yeah, But

Though Chris was a dear friend, the one thing I used to kid him about was how negative he was all the time. He too thought positive thinking was BS. “It’s easy for you,” he said. “You grew up in a good family, your dad owned a business, and you had a lot of advantages, which is why things are going so well for you.”

Tough Circumstances

Chris had grown up in a much more difficult climate. His mom had passed away and his dad, who had to work all the time, placed him in a boarding school and was unable to spend much time with him. He felt abandoned. He stayed in boarding school from a young age through high school, then college, and then he was on his own. “Is it any wonder I’m a negative thinker?” He would say to me. “I did not get the breaks you had.”

Of course, you and I both know that boarding school and college would be considered a big advantage by many people.

Advantages Don’t Matter

I spent most of our friendship trying to get him to look at the brighter side of life and never got him to agree. I pointed out that I knew people who grew up with great advantages, wealthy families, great educations, parents who offered to help them start businesses, and still those advantages did not help them. I also pointed out people I knew who came from really difficult situations, growing up in horrible families, horrible neighborhoods, struggling and starving, who pulled themselves up and made successes of their lives. It was thinking that made the difference, but he refused to agree.

Impact on Your Health

One day I told Chris his attitude was going to shorten his life. I then cited evidence. More BS, according to him. Years later at lunch he revealed that doctors thought he had brain cancer, and he decided he was going to give up smoking. He was really scared. Yet the next day, after he’d been given an all-clear, he started smoking again, and two years later he died of lung and brain cancer at a young age.

I bought Chris the book Think and Grow Rich, which changed my life. He never read it. Though it was written back in 1937, it turned out to be right. Today we have significant evidence that the brain reacts to the ways we interpret things.

Two things have been PROVEN scientifically:

1. If you visualize something happening to you, in detail, and you take action toward those dreams, there is a high likelihood you can achieve things that are seemingly impossible. It can work in reverse if you think of the worst that can happen to you.
2. If you treat others who don’t believe in themselves as though you believe in them, and tell them about how much you believe in them, and how much you know they will succeed, evidence suggests it can begin to remake their brain chemistry and positively change their lives until they get to the point they can manage their own mindset. Belief is a powerful thing.

The key in both cases is that positives need to outweigh negatives 10 to one.

I’ve been teaching these things for a while and find them fascinating, so much so that I’m actually taking a course to become a certified Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) coach. No, I don’t plan to quit my job and become a coach, I just want to understand it in depth, because my personal experiences with NLP have been game-changing and I want to take it to the highest level of performance.

In NLP, the foundation of everything in life is CAUSE and EFFECT.

In Chris’ case, “My dad put me in a boarding school and abandoned me” is cause. “I’m at a disadvantage because I did not get my dad’s love, and therefore my life sucks” is effect.

Chris was playing the victim.

I don’t doubt that he was hurting, or that he did not understand why his dad put him into boarding school. But instead of accepting it for what it was and managing his life in spite of it, his hurt became his excuse for problems and negativity his whole life. It’s OK to lick your wounds for a short time, but at some point you have to move on or you’ll get stuck.

Cause and Effect: One thing causes another thing to happen.

“I’m late because of you.” You caused me to be late.

You made me late. It’s an “if/then” mentality. If you did this to me, then this is the result.

Sadly, most of us spend our time in effect mode. Effect is always someone else’s fault. Frankly, it’s easier to blame others than to blame ourselves or accept personal responsibility. Plus, making it someone else’s problem gives us a subconscious excuse to fail.

• “I didn’t get that job because you made me angry when you told me I needed to wear a tie, so I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.” 
• “I can’t concentrate on my homework because dad has been mowing the lawn and making too much noise.” 
• “You broke a promise years ago, therefore it’s OK for me to treat you badly.” 
• “My boss is a jerk because he embarrassed me in front of others. Therefore it’s OK to steal from the company.” 
• “All rich people are evil, so it’s OK for me to steal from them.” 
• “I don’t like your politics, so it’s OK for me to slam you on social media.”

Are you stuck in the effect side of life?

So what’s the alternative? After all, bad things are going to happen.

To be better at cause, the key is never to blame others or blame circumstances. Accept what is and move on. “In spite of the car breaking down, I made sure I got all my meetings done anyway.”

Brush It Off

Learning to brush off cause so you’re not living with effect will change your life. Why waste energy on effect?

“I am so proud of myself. I had a challenging day. I had to concentrate really hard since they were working with a jackhammer outside my window. But once I had decided that I was going to concentrate on the job, the noise didn’t bother me.”  

Looking back in the future, do you want to say, “If it wasn’t for this or it wasn’t for that, I could have made a lot more out of my life”?   

When you are on your deathbed, do you want to be looking back and blaming other people or your circumstances for not having realised your potential?

The Difference Between “A” Players and Others

I spend time with a lot of highly successful people and all of them spend their time in cause and not in effect. In fact, I’ve found that A players are cause people, and B and C players are effect people.

Who are you blaming?

Why blame anyone or anything? Why not just accept circumstances and live the best life you can live without excuses?

You cannot ever expect anyone to pull you up out of your circumstances to make things better. Only you can be responsible for making that happen.

Which side will you spend your time on? Cause or effect? Cause is bright and sunny. Effect may be comfortable, but it’s dingy and dark.

You decide.

Either “I am in charge” or “Things happen to me and I am the victim.”

Where will you live the rest of your life?

Eric Rhoads

PS: Yesterday I had the pleasure of being the judge of the Paint the Town plein air festival in Marble Falls, Texas, and I met some amazing people and even had a chance to do a marketing talk earlier in the day. Today I drive back to judge the quick draw. I love my job. Then in just a couple of weeks, I’ll be heading out to the Plein Air Convention to spend time with my tribe. You should check it out. It’s a lot of fun. Did I mention I love my job?

Brilliant spring greens lightly cover the recently bare twisted oaks. Buds of fuzzy pussywillows signal spring’s arrival. Blankets of deep-blue bluebonnets and orange “Indian paintbrushes” cover miles of roadways and farms, bringing rich, vibrant hues to the otherwise dusty sage colors here. A soft warm breeze moves through the treetops like ballerinas quietly tiptoeing the moves of Swan Lake. I’m like a prisoner freed from the shackles — spring has released me from the indoors and the heated air as I return to my special place, the old long porch looking out over the vast distant hills and tall grasses.

What Is Soul Work?

Being here, keyboard at my fingertips, is my soul work. I learned the term from artist Liz Haywood-Sullivan during a recent conversation about a company that had become soulless, abandoned its roots, and is facing its demise as a result. The company had failed to understand its role in the soul work of others, and instead chased the path of money without purpose.

The term, which I’d not heard before, perfectly described my life, my path, where I had come from, and where I’ve ended up. Perhaps it explains your path as well.

Liz pointed out that soul work is the thing we eventually get to that enriches our souls. We spend our young lives chasing dreams, building lives and families, earning necessary dollars, and then we often find ourselves trapped on a treadmill that sucks the joy from the marrow of our bones. Trapped by financial obligations, debts, family responsibilities, and jobs we once loved that no longer give us fulfillment.

The Signal in Our Heads

Then, at the magical and necessary moment, a little bell goes off in our heads, signaling that “there’s more to life than this,” at which time many begin to pursue the things that enrich their souls. It may be writing, crafting, sewing, gardening, painting, woodworking, photography, or any of dozens of other things.

It’s a rare bird who chases their soul work at a young age and sticks with it in spite of the chains of obligation. We call these people “artists.” And, at whatever point we decide our souls are ready, we too can become artists. It’s a special badge few ever get to wear, but many wish they could.

What is your soul work? Have you arrived there yet?

You would think watching the demise of a competitor would bring celebration, but as I pointed out to my team, it could have been us. We are all one bad decision away from ruin. And as someone who runs a business — which is part of my soul work — I can tell you that every day brings a challenge in which greed, easy money, heartless decisions, small lies, and ethical lapses can, for a moment, be seductive. Yet once one crosses the line, the line has been crossed forever. That line will move from a mild lapse of judgment toward a series of soulless decisions, and that leads to self-destruction. Small lies become big lies, small ethical lapses become criminal offenses, and heartless decisions destroy lives.

Never Cross the Line

Knowing where to draw the line at all times, and being strong enough to resist crossing it, is the mark of someone who keeps their soul intact. Like those cartoons with the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, the calls of each draw you in, and if you’re not on guard at all times, a seemingly harmless decision can be like removing a small support pillar, and can eventually bring the entire building down.

One Decision Too Many

Too often companies start out doing well-meaning things, maintaining ethics and purpose and brilliant vision, but then, because of a need for speed, or a need to get bigger, will make that one line-crossing decision that removes that first pillar. Most companies don’t intend to be evil, but some become that when they cross the line, just as humans can cross over with a small, seemingly minor decision that ultimately destroys their reputation.

It’s Only a Tool

I used to think that making money was a purpose, but I’ve since changed my mind and believe that money is merely a tool for a greater purpose. And when that greater purpose is lost, the money stockpiled is like a carpenter buying up a cache of tools and never building anything. It serves no purpose.

Disappearing Concern

When companies lack true purpose (that goes beyond the mindless “We care about you” hype they try to sell their customers), their soul disappears. Those who are truly passionate about purpose, truly being of service, and having big, meaningful goals that are world-changing or life-changing for others — those companies demonstrate their true soul.

The Artist’s Tool

In a couple of weeks I’ll be providing three mornings of art marketing training for the attendees of my plein air artists’ convention in San Francisco. I have to continually remind myself, and the attendees, that they are soul workers, and that the drive to sell artwork is about providing them the tools to live their dreams so they can continue their soul work without compromise. For some it’s just adding an extra thousand dollars a month to help with retirement or school, while others require more. It’s not about getting rich, it’s about living rich … a rich, fulfilling life, not a life of accumulation with no purpose attached. If, however, the goal is to accumulate in order to build a new major museum (one of my goals), or to underwrite homeless housing (something we do), or even to stockpile some money to send your grandbabies to college or help them get a start in life, then by all means, that accumulation serves a purpose. But by watching friends, I’ve come to realize that accumulation for its own sake often leads to more chains and more responsibilities.

Pick What You Love

Soul work does not have to wait until you’ve worked a career and are ready to move on. Doing what you love is soul work; that’s why I encourage my kids to pick careers that they love. Their dad gets to be around art and artists all day long, which is truly a blessing. I get to write, make art, and create ideas that help others. We all need to find our soul work.

What about you? Have you found your soul work?

Are you doing what you truly love, or are you shackled to something you once loved, or never loved?

If a meteor hit the earth tomorrow, would you be OK with that? Or should you start building a plan to do what you love now? It’s never too late. Escape won’t be easy, but you can make a plan. (I once made a product for seniors about how to start an art business and succeed quickly.)

Building a Blueprint

Responsibility should never be thrown to the wind for soul work, because your soul won’t feel good about your decision to stop being responsible for the needs of your family. (We call that being a deadbeat.) Yet you can build a three- or five-year plan to transition out of anything into something else. Maybe it won’t be as financially fruitful, yet if you’re driving to a job dreading even one more day, it’s time to find your soul work. You may think you have plenty of time, and maybe you do. But then again, maybe not.

What was the first thing you thought of when I talked about your soul work?

Are you doing it now? If not, make a plan, and follow it religiously until you get there.

You won’t regret it.

Eric Rhoads

PS: The first quarter of the year always passes in the blink of the eye. It’s hard to believe today is the last day of March already. It’s almost like it’s Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, and boom, it’s summer. All year I look forward to my big painters’ event, which is in April this year, and we’ll all be there in just about three weeks. Hard to believe. But exciting! Soon it will really be summer, and I’ll be entertaining painters in the Adirondacks. It seems like time is speeding up. Make good use of your time. Do things to recharge, to rejuvenate, and find your soul work.

Distant layers of rolling hills are barely visible this foggy morning, each layer lighter and bluer than the one before. A lone light on a hill in the distance shines brightly against the gray background, making me think that me and the person in that house are the only people awake this early. If I knew Morse code, I’d blink a good morning message. Everyone else is sleeping, and though I enjoy my alone time, I’d love to have a chat with someone over coffee about now. The sleep has left my eyes, and I’m caffeine-infused and ready for action.

In Search of Sunshine

Stillness surrounds this morning, and the calls of birds are heard from the limbs above, telegraphing from tree to tree. The shiny wet ground is covered with rotting leaves left over from fall. Small green sprouts are pushing their way out of the soil in search of sunshine to nourish them, and will soon reveal a blanket of wildflower colors. Brilliant bright green buds are peeking out at the very tops of the otherwise bare-limbed trees. And nearby, fields of bluebonnets have carpeted the hills in purples and blues. I look forward to the two weeks each year that bluebonnets blanket this state. Perhaps today I’ll drag my easel out along with some extra tubes of blue and purple.

Blankets of Gray

Growing up in Indiana, where snow drifted to six or eight feet, early signs of spring were as welcome as a long-lost relative coming home after years away. We embraced spring with a giant hug, and though it was still cold, we would take a blanket out to the park to bask in the sun because we couldn’t wait for the warmth to come. Anything other than a gray day was a welcome sight. I tend to be a fair-weather painter, though rain and snow are two of my favorite things to paint.

An Army of Painters

Soon, as winter fades, an army of plein air painters will emerge to capture the beauty of the season. In just a few weeks, several hundred of us will gather for spring training in San Francisco so we’re tuned up for the season. If you see a painter along the side of the road, toot your horn happily to celebrate their presence. If you hear of a plein air event, make a point of visiting to learn more. But be careful — we’re finding lots of people who go to events to watch end up as painters. You might come away with a new passion.

Early Decisions That Stick

Passion is a funny thing. At age 14 I fell in love with radio broadcasting and made a decision to become a broadcaster at that age. This year I celebrate 50 years in the radio industry. I’m no longer on the air (though I do a plein air podcast), but my passion remains strong to this day.

One day as I held one of my babies and looked up at a full moon, his first words, as he pointed upward, were “moon stars and the sky.” As a toddler he wanted to become a scuba diver/astronaut, and to this day his passion is to go into space and be one of the people to colonize Mars. And though I would miss him desperately, I don’t want to rain on his dream. Instead I want to encourage it as my parents encouraged my dreams. As a child I dreamed of being an artist, a businessman, and a radio guy. That’s the life I live today.

The more I talk to people, the more I realize that more often than not, people are doing things they dreamed of as children. It’s usually motivated by something specific. For instance, I met a young doctor who pursued medicine because his dad died at an early age and he did not want anyone else to go through that pain.

Watch Your Words Carefully

Sadly, I’ve also encountered people whose dreams were discouraged as foolish, who chased what they were told to chase instead of what was in their hearts. Though we want what’s best for our kids, who are we to know that their dream isn’t right for them? I’ve probably met hundreds of artists who told me they took on other careers and were miserable until retirement, when they finally decided to chase their dream. Most were discouraged by their parents or family members because we have this incorrect belief that all artists starve. For the record, I can name dozens of millionaire artists, and a lot more who make a great living. Not that it’s all about money. Like anything else, there are those who strive and succeed and those who strive and fail, which is more about persistence and lifelong learning than it is luck. Most just give up too early, or don’t know what to do and don’t know how to find what to do, which is why I’m passionate about helping artists learn how to live their dreams.

What would happen if we all became encouragers? How would the world change if more people were doing what they loved instead of what they are “supposed to do”?

What would have happened to you if you had been encouraged more?

There Are No Limits

As a child I was continually told that there are no limits, that I could do anything I dreamed. The things I’ve not accomplished on my dream list are only because of the limits in my own head. And though I can’t will myself to be a 7-foot basketball player, there are examples of short players who beat the odds and broke records.

If you and I could each touch seven people this week with a random unexpected word of encouragement, we could have a massive impact.

And as these things go, when people GET encouraged, they tend to GIVE encouragement because they see how good it feels. This could snowball.

Mining for Gold

Be sincere. Look for something you see in someone and send them a note … tell them how much you appreciate them, how much they mean to you, and why you believe in them. Something I learned in IBM training decades ago is that after giving a compliment, it’s best to tell the person why what you’ve complimented means something to you.

If you and I did this once a day, every day for the rest of our lives, we would feel better, others would feel better, and we could impact a lot of lives.

Only Deposits

We all have emotional bank accounts. One compliment deposits 100 points. One negative comment withdraws 1,000 points. We may think we’re being practical and helping, but people who have more withdrawals than deposits have self-esteem problems and lack belief in themselves.

Hundreds of people have told me that one single word of encouragement has changed their lives. Sometimes all it took was for one person to believe in them when they didn’t believe in themselves.

What deposits will you make this week?

Have a great Sunday.

Eric Rhoads

PS: Last week I was in an office-building restroom and there was a worker in there who was hunched over, miserable, and clearly hated his job. I noticed that he was ignored as people came through. I also noticed how good the restroom looked, so I walked up to him and said, “I just want you to know that every time I come in here, this restroom is the cleanest restroom in town, and it’s always perfect. I want you to know that there is nothing worse than heading to a meeting and having to deal with a dirty restroom, but when it’s clean, it makes you feel better about yourself. You may not hear this enough, but you are making a difference in people’s lives. Thank you.” Then I handed him an unexpected tip. He got a big smile on his face, a gleam in his eye — which teared up a bit — his posture straightened, and he thanked me. Everybody wants to have pride in their work. Let’s show some appreciation wherever we go this week.

An overnight cold front swept in, taking our beautiful spring warmth to a sudden chilly, rainy, gray day. As I stare out over the porch, which is too wet and cold for writing this morning, I see subtle movements and the silhouettes of deer moving through the backwoods. I counted five this morning and have counted as many as 12 on some days. Quiet and graceful, they move through the land, alert at all times and skittish at the slightest sound, always ready in a split second to make a life-saving run. When I walk through my woods, there are paths they’ve worn, paths they typically follow, generation after generation, following the direction of their elders.

Which Path?

We too have pathways. In the past I’ve talked about how we tend to follow the pathways of our elders and often adopt patterns that live on for generations. It’s a rare person who invents their own pathway because that requires deliberate thought. And though the road less traveled involves more roadblocks, rougher paths, and more pioneering, it can make for a life of excitement, while the roads frequently traveled can lead to sameness and following the masses. The pathways you choose for life can be a walk through the woods, a climb up a difficult mountain, a country road, or a superhighway. Thankfully, in this country, we get to choose. It’s not that way in many other cultures, where your job or even your spouse is chosen for you.

Paths Art a Part of Learning

  Sunday Coffee isn’t just for painters, but the subject slips into my words from time to time, though I try to offer thoughts that appeal to everyone. If you’ve been hanging around having coffee with me for a while, you know of my passion to teach people to paint because of the benefits we get: joy, confidence, distraction and stress reduction, creative use of our brains, new challenges, etc. Recently when I was talking about our veterans’ initiative, a psychiatric professional who reads this reinforced that there is hard evidence that art-making engages other parts of the brain and tends to give people great joy and the ability to cope with their issues.

It’s Not About Natural Talent

Sadly, culture has a misperception about painting and drawing, with people believing these are natural-born talents and that if they don’t have them, they never will. In fact, I used to believe that too. In third grade, the kid at the desk next to me could draw amazingly well, and I could not. Little did I know he had been practicing obsessively for years.

I find it odd that we don’t expect that of brain surgeons, lawyers, judges, architects, or even musicians. We know they have to apply a lifetime of study to master their professions, yet we don’t realize that also applies to artists. It’s this reason alone that millions who want to learn to paint or draw don’t do it. Almost daily, I encounter “I don’t have any talent. I can’t even draw a stick figure.” As a result, people never give it a shot.

Giving it a shot is an important starting point, but it isn’t enough. I’ve met too many people who tried painting or drawing and quit because they got discouraged too easily.

Express Yourself

I started painting at the side of my mom, a painter, as a child, but gave it up for decades until in my late 30s I bought some supplies and tried to make some paintings — which were a disaster. Being self-taught isn’t the best road because it slows progress, and my wife recognized my need for lessons and bought me one for my 40th birthday. The instructor told me to “throw the paint on the canvas with big, sweeping strokes and express yourself.” When I told him I wanted to learn to paint real things, he told me, “No one does that anymore.” So I quit, discouraged.

A Magic Cab

Thankfully, later on I was stuck in a cab, and the driver, an artist, told me about a guy in the training lineage of the great French painter Gérôme. I walked into the class on a Saturday morning, saw the amazing work on the easels of the class members, told myself I could not do that, and turned around and walked away. But the instructor, Jack Jackson, called me back, and talked me into staying by saying I could be doing work at that level in 18 months or less. He then got me started on a project right then, and told me what the steps would be.

Step One, Step Two

The magic he used to get me interested and keep me interested was that he immediately engaged me in a project, teaching me how to grid a painting for copying. He then told me the path he would take me on. He told me I could go as fast as I wanted but had to master each step before he would take me to the next. He told me I’d have moments where I wanted to give up and that those moments should be embraced, because that’s where the breakthroughs come from. So instead of telling me it would be easy, he told me it would not be easy, but that I could do it, because it was in small steps I could easily master.

A Learning Tool

Everyone teaching anything should be doing this. Whether you’re teaching art or photography, muic, or anything else, the student needs to know it won’t be easy, but that they can master small steps at their own speed, and they will make great progress faster than they can imagine as long as they don’t give up when they get discouraged.

How many things have you given up because you had no hope?
How many things could you be doing today if someone had helped you understand the path?

Awkward at First

My guitar teacher, Steve, did this with my first lesson. He told me I’d feel clumsy and awkward, and that he’d felt this way too, but I could learn to play like him. He then played something amazing. He told me the path, told me how to deal with my frustration, and sure enough, he was right. At the start of last summer I was struggling, and by the end of the summer the project we worked on was flowing like hot lava. He helped me keep my eye on the future and helped me manage my expectations and my frustration.

Passion Isn’t Enough

Some of us, myself included, allow frustration to get in the way and we give up. Some of us, myself included, persisted in some cases, in spite of that frustration, and gained results. Part of that is driven by our level of passion. Yet passion alone isn’t enough. We need a path, and we need constant encouragement.

10X Better

Whatever you and I want to learn in life, we should seek out the best of the best to teach us. The best are usually not a little better than others at their craft, but 10 times better. The best will demand more from us than those who are not the best. They will work us harder, challenge us more, expect more of us, and push us to perfection. I don’t want an easy path, I want the best path. I’m willing to put in the time and get through the frustration because I now understand that when you learn from the best, you become the best. It’s also how I choose my instructors for my events and videos. They don’t get invited in unless they possess great ability to give results to my customers.

How would things change if on day one of a class, an instructor laid out the path, the expectations, the frustrations, and the value of those frustrations?

Yes, it might turn off a few who are unwilling to put in the effort. Though unfortunate, the reality is that you don’t get much if you don’t put much in.

I can think of lots of friends who told me they started to draw or paint, or play music, or play sports, who would have stuck with it — if the path had been revealed.

Where can you reveal a path? Who that is under your guidance now needs to hear about the path before they opt out in frustration?

Path Revealed

I’m planning to reveal the path we take people on in our own business. Though I need to define it in detail, it’s basically that I’ll teach you, the very beginner,  how to draw, how to get to the next level of drawing, then the next. Then I’ll teach you about values, then shapes, then color, then edges, then how to paint. When you get here, you graduate to the next level. Then I’ll take you to a higher level, and then higher still, then once you’re at that level, I’ll teach you how to sell your art, how to build your career, starting with the simple things and then deepening your level of sophistication. I may even then take you into a personal coaching program to take you to the level of the most famous artists in the world.

Whatever that path ends up being, it will be a lot more detailed and clearer than what I’ve given here. The magic is that the student then will not have this overwhelming feeling of being at one level and seeing the high level and not believing they can master it. Yet if they know the steps, know what comes in between, and know we’re there with them when they get stuck or frustrated, they are more likely to stick with it.

Ponder Paths

Let’s ponder the idea of paths. And if your instructor does not provide you with the path, pass this on to them and ask, “Can you show me the path?” They all have it in their minds, in their curriculums. It’s just that most never share the path.

You and I can help a lot of people by revealing the path.

Eric Rhoads

PS: When I brought this idea of pathways to my team, we had a realization that we can start building the path of expectations into everything we do. For years we’ve been teaching beginning plein air painting at our convention Basics Course, but this year we redefined it with a path in mind and more steps to make progress happen for the attendees, and then we added in mentors who will stick with the people in that course for the whole week on the days we go out painting. We think it will make a big difference. Fingers crossed. We’ll find out in April.

PPS: I’d like to do something a little unusual and honor someone today. Life is full of surprises, challenges, and special moments. We have no control. About five years ago, I announced a new event called Fall Color Week, and we held the first one in Maine. We had about 60 or 100 people, and we all made a lot of very good friends who remain close to this day. Some of us stay in touch all year through our private Facebook page and others just show up year after year, and we connect as old friends, as though we have been together all along. We paint together for a week, all day every day, we have our meals together, and we sit up at night to laugh, sing, paint portraits, or just chat. There are no lessons; it’s just a painting retreat that I host.

Some people drop out for a year or two, other new people come in every year, but we all become close and most everyone returns. When we had our first event, it was attended by a lady from California, probably in her mid-50s, named Theresa (Terry) Poplawski. She was a joy to be around, always had a giant smile on her face, and was a magnet to others. In fact, she and one of the other women in the group, Carolyn Carradine, became best friends, figured out they lived close together, and became painting buddies throughout the year. They always returned to Fall Color Week, and the Plein Air Convention too. A couple of weeks ago Carolyn informed me that Terry, who’d thought she was in perfect health, returned from our Fall Color trip in Banff and Lake Louise only to discover she had stage 4 cancer. As it turned out, it was her last painting trip. She passed away just last week. It all happened very quickly. She found out in November, fought like crazy to beat it, and was gone in early March.

We all become very close in these groups. I’ve made some of my best friends at these events, as have others. It’s always sad if someone can’t return for any reason. We all get busy. Sometimes it’s a health issue, a wedding or a family issue, or a financial issue. It’s sad when anyone does not return. But losing a family member like this is tough for us all. Yet, If I learned anything from Terry, it was that she embraced life and opportunity. It was not always easy for her to get to our events, because she too had a family and a life to manage, but she made it a priority to also do something for herself. She probably told herself she had plenty of time to do these things and could have said, “I’ll do it one day,” but instead she rewarded herself, and the result was rich experiences and friendships that made the last five years of her life even more special. And she made the last five years very special for the rest of us in the group. I’ll always remember that big grin of joy.

I’m going to honor Terry by framing a photo I took of her, and having it be on the table during Fall Color Week at Ghost Ranch this September. She is part of the family, and it won’t be the same without her. Terry Poplawski, you enriched our lives. May your path be rich and may you rest deeply in peace.

Warm golden sunshine streams through the windows and splashes, glowing, on the wooden floor, bouncing its color-filled rays onto the walls, the furniture, and the old stone fireplace and inviting me outside. I think that finally I can return to my porch, yet the cold air instantly tightens my skin as I realize it’s spring, but early spring here, and I may have to wait a couple more weeks for the warmth of the porch.

This morning I sit, bundled up in my unheated art studio, knitted afghan over my lap, space heater cranking way up to remove the chill. I’m surrounded by tens of thousands of hours of art-making projects, mostly paintings I’ve done here or on location, en plein air, in spots around the world.

Paintings and even printed photographs will make their way to estate sales, Goodwill, maybe even the auction block, but hard drives of memories from our phones may disappear with us, never seen by our families. Yet surrounding me here are hundreds of model sessions, talking with my fellow painters and with models I’ve just met, learning about their lives, and in some cases their unusual hobbies or habits — things I sometimes hadn’t known existed. It’s why I embrace my weekly “life” group, where a few friends come to my studio every Wednesday night to paint and draw.

In his video legendary painter Max Ginsburg talks about the importance of drawing and painting from life, and talks about years and years of 5 a.m. sessions before class with his friends, which gave him the drawing skills he has today. After eight or nine years of doing this every Wednesday when I’m in town, it has sharpened my drawing and painting skills, though there is much to improve. But it has provided something more … a rich time with people who have become old friends. Discussions with paintings have resulted in new ideas, things I’ve been able to implement for artists, along with laughter, jokes, puns, serious dialogue, and thankfully, no politics (our one and only rule). It’s also provided a chance to get to know about the lives of fifty to a hundred models, who we often chat with while painting. It allows me a peek into worlds I’m otherwise not exposed to. One works for the state of Texas in the accounting department, another works at an art store, while another is a hook artist, inserting hooks into her skin and hanging from the ceiling at bars. That’s one for the books! Who knew?

The magic of Wednesdays for me is that I’m forcing myself to invest in myself. With a busy life of family, work, and travel, I’m mostly giving of myself to others, while this is when I am fed by time with friends, a chance to talk to others about everything but work, a chance to be exposed to new people and new things, and a time to laugh and have fun painting. For me this time is a non-negotiable. If at all possible, I try to avoid scheduling trips over Wednesday nights.

Non-negotiables are important in our lives. I don’t have many, but I have a few. For instance, being gone on weekends is non-negotiable. I want to be home with my family. Though there are a few exceptions where there is a weekend convention or a meeting scheduled by others that I must attend, if I’m in control, I’m home.

What are you doing for yourself that is non-negotiable?

What do you do that is just for you, that recharges your batteries, that gives you something to look forward to?

Maybe it’s something annually. Though I have my weekly painting group, I also have things I look forward to all year. For instance, since I don’t get to do as much plein air painting as I’d like to, I look forward to my week painting with others in the Adirondacks and again at some colorful location in the fall, during what I call the Publisher’s Invitational. And when I’m going through a tough patch, it’s nice to dream about an upcoming trip like our annual behind-the-scenes Fine Art Trip. I’ve learned the importance of not scheduling everything last-minute — though I do that sometimes, I like thinking about something for a full year in advance. It helps me get through stressful moments.

I was raised to be a giver. Always give to others before taking care of yourself. I’m happy I was gifted these principles through the examples of my parents and grandparents, but to be a giver, you need to fuel your own engine by giving something of importance to yourself on a regular basis. Because your batteries need to be recharged.

We all recharge differently. I get my energy from being around others, being social, and if I had my way I’d be out to dinner with friends every night of the week. I could do events like the Plein Air Convention all day every day, because I love interacting with people. I also recharge with time at the easel and time outside painting, because I love the outdoors. For others, those things would be a drain. For you, recharging may be alone time with a good book, a walk in the mountains, time playing music, time with friends. Whatever it is, it’s important to find it and then make sure you plug in and get recharged on a regular basis. Sometimes I go weeks without my batteries being charged, and I feel it.

For decades I burned the candle at both ends, years and years of trying to make a living, trying to get ahead, driving in early and home at midnight, years without the money or time for a vacation. Though I gained a lot of value from doing it all, I now realize I’d have been many times more effective if I had done things to recharge.

A few weeks ago I was chatting with an acquaintance. I asked him how he recharges. His answer was that he loves to work. But he has nothing else. That was me: I love to work, but once I found something else, it made a difference.

What about you? How do you recharge?

Are you giving it enough time?

We all have times and seasons when our recharge isn’t easy to find time for, or maybe we don’t have the “fun tickets” (what my sister-in-law calls money). But whenever possible, don’t forget to do something for just you. It’s not selfish; in fact, it’s selfish not to, because when you’re required to be there for others, they need the best of you.

Eric Rhoads

PS: This week I had my eyes opened. For several years my wife and I have given a percentage of our profits to an organization called Mobile Loaves and Fishes, whose slogan is “Everyone eats every day.” In Austin and several other cities, they have dozens of food trucks, and volunteers drive food to areas with homeless people and hand out sandwiches, plus some key other essentials. The vision of its founder, Alan Graham, who I first met in my son’s Scout group, was to build a village of tiny houses to house homeless people to help them get on their feet, get their dignity back, and be able to live a decent life away from the streets.

We had never visited, so we took my son’s classmates on a field trip to tour this village. It was an experience beyond amazing, and I just want to give more. There are about 200 people living there independently, while being part of a community. It’s a village of tiny houses and RVs. They have shops on the property that people can work in — an auto repair shop, a forge and metal shop, a wood shop, a T-shirt screening shop. They also have a large art center to give people a chance to make ceramics, paintings, and other forms of art, and their art then goes into the little store on the property where visitors can buy the art and have 100 percent of the money go back to the homeless people. We met a formerly homeless man and woman who met at the property, got married, and now live there with the first child born on the property.

I have to admit, I tense up if a homeless person talks to me. I’m afraid. I don’t know if they are mentally unstable, on drugs, or just down on their luck. And frankly, I was a little uncomfortable about visiting. Yet after my visit, I want to go back, teach painting, and do what I can to help. I met and talked with a few residents, heard their stories. Everyone I met told stories of their lives, what they were like before and what they are like now. And I saw lots of big smiles.

Not only is this an example of how one person can make a difference, it’s a model that can work in every city in America as we deal with this homeless crisis. I’d encourage you to poke around on the organization’s website. Maybe you’re in a position to raise money or model something like this in your town, whether it’s food trucks or a village. I’m sure they would show you how or even do it for you. If nothing else, it’s a chance to see joy being created and lives being changed, which is good news.

PPS: A shout out to the Marble Falls, Texas, art association that invited me in to speak to their group recently. I was asked to come in and speak about marketing to the group of some amazing artists. Thanks, everyone, for hosting me. I’ll be judging the Marble Falls Plein Air Festival this coming April right before the convention, which is something I rarely get a chance to do these days. It’s an honor.