Last week I talked about the stories we live … then I saw this Monday Morning Memo written by my friend Roy Williams, which was worth sharing.

Listen

I am, by profession, an ad writer. I tell stories about people and products and services.

You do, too.

But because I get paid for it, I spend a lot of time considering — and measuring ­— the impact of stories.

Some of the stories I’ve told have made people an enormous amount of money.

But the most important stories I tell, by far, are the stories I tell about myself, to myself. Those stories are the source of my identity and the foundation of my purpose in life.

But we’ve talked enough about me.

I see something good in you and I’m calling it out.

Is it okay for me to do that?

Let us stare together into the eyes of the truth:

Whether good or bad, your current circumstances are temporary.
Success is temporary.
Failure is temporary.
Your future depends on your choices.
Your choices depend on what you believe.
What you believe is not determined by what you see and hear, but by how you interpret what you see and hear.
How you interpret what you see and hear is determined by the stories you tell yourself, about yourself.
Who do you believe yourself to be?
What do you believe about this world we live in?
What does the future hold?

Your mood, your attitude, and what happens to you next will be greatly impacted by your answers to those questions.

“If you want your baby to die with a name, you need to pick one now.”

The newborn had inhaled meconium during birth, the most the doctors had ever seen. His lungs were 95% full of it. The father and the baby rode with lights and sirens to Dell Children’s Hospital 30 minutes away, with the grandmother riding the back bumper.

The doctors at Dell looked at the x-rays and slowly shook their heads in disappointment.

The grandmother stayed with the newborn while the father went back to see his wife.

The mother was puzzled when the nurse showed her the baby’s birth certificate. She and her husband had been torn between two names for their new son and had agreed to choose the name after they met him.

The husband walked into the room.

She said, “I thought we agreed to talk about it before we chose the name.”

“Honey, Lincoln died. But Gideon overcame impossible odds. When they asked me his name, I said: ‘This boy isn’t Lincoln. This boy is Gideon.’”

When the specialist at Dell met with the parents the following day, he was holding two sets of x-rays. Holding up a film in his left hand, he said, “I have no explanation for it, but this baby…” Then he lowered that film as he raised the one in his right, “isn’t this baby.”

Gideon will be 8 years old on March 15 and he suffers no after-effects at all.

You may believe that what happened was going to happen anyway, and that belief in the power of a name is superstitious nonsense. That would be the logical, scientific belief, to be sure.

But do you really believe that beliefs have no power?

Beliefs are what separate Democrats from Republicans, Hindus from Muslims, stock market Bulls from stock market Bears, and scientists from storytellers.

Your beliefs are what make you who you are.
And your beliefs are determined
by the stories you tell yourself
about yourself.

You are not responsible for the beliefs of others.
You are responsible only for your own.

During his time at Walden Pond, Henry David Thoreau observed, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” And I agree with him.

I also agree with Jack Kerouac. “But why think about that when all the golden lands ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you’re alive to see?”

Did you experience 5 years of life during the past 5 years?
Or did you experience 1 year of life 5 times?
Don’t let 2018 be the 6th straight year of 1 years’ experience.

Do something new.
Tell yourself a different story
about yourself.

And believe it.

The horizon in the distance looks as though bags of large and small marshmallows have been dumped out in piles, while being lit from the side by an orange-pink light. Shadows of purple, the absence of light, make up their underside. These soft, billowing clouds line the edge of the still, mirror-like ocean and make their way up to the sky, which shows a greenish-yellow glow, something only an artist truly notices. Silhouettes of palm trees pop up in the distance, and a couple of hundred mega yachts surround me in the marina that has been my home for the past 10 days during our Florida visit.

Trophies of Accomplishment

Amazingly, these trophies of accomplishment sit quietly at their docks, being attended to by their crews of one, two, or three, sometimes more. They are continually washed and polished in anticipation of an owner’s visit that rarely comes. They float there, waiting, in hopes that someone will put them to good use. Yet most sit and sit, never to be used, like a boneyard of status symbols.

Beating Myself Up

The old me might have walked though this marina telling myself “someday” I too will own one of these mega yachts. Then later in life, I’d beat myself up and go through the marina bitterly telling myself, “You haven’t done it yet, someday will never come, you’re simply never gonna make that happen. Face it.” Yet the new me has learned to manage my negative self-talk and has a whole new perspective on life.

Unrealized Dreams

I’m not sure how many positive self-help books I consumed as a young business guy and throughout decades of my life, hoping that someday I’d have the ability to write a check for the mega yacht, the jet, the giant house, the fancy cars. And I saw success, experienced some of those things in a small way, having built and sold a company at a young age. Foolishly I made, and spent, what seemed like a fortune at the time. No one ever told me it wouldn’t last. Then I spent a lot more years trying to make it happen again, but never quite got there. I finally had to make a difficult admission that I got what I had because of incredible luck, and because of the help I was given. I was not a wunderkind after all. Just lucky.

Designing a Life

Following my lucky period, I had to figure out how to create my own luck, how to design the life I really wanted and discover what I was really attracting. You see, the trappings are cool, but they are often merely monuments to oneself, and I came to the realization that I was not attracting them because they were not that important to me. I had the benefit of seeing, through the lives of others, what was required to get them, and most of those things were a turnoff to me.

My wife recently returned from a Tony Robbins event and said it was filled with people who had achieved great wealth and success and who were there to figure out how to get happy, because these things were not creating happiness. These people had toiled to get them, only to find out they didn’t make them any happier.

Lessons in Life?

Perspective, and just life, play wonderful roles in understanding what we do and don’t want, and what I’ve realized through the journey up to this point is that there are some important life lessons worth sharing, especially as we enter this new year.

I’m not a fan of new year’s resolutions because they are all too often just party chatter and not serious goals. We come up with things we want without much thought, perhaps on the way to a party in case someone asks, but haven’t really given them a lot of thought. Yet our lives deserve deep thought and deep planning.

Define Life Exactly

In my first Art Marketing Boot Camp video, I worked to help others define their ideal life. To invent what they want it to look like — because we often set high goals and work toward those goals and are not satisfied when we get there. I see marketing as a tool to live the ideal dream life, but it has to be your dream, not simply objects we see in The Robb Report or other luxury publications that are supposed to define success.

What Billionaires Know

In my life I’ve encountered people who became billionaires. Some allowed the money to change who they are, but others never changed. One I know stayed in the same middle class house he bought 30 years before; he drives a 10-year-old Honda and never flaunts his money. Others have the jets and the big houses, but put them to good use by sharing them with friends and family and living joy-filled lives. One man I know has it all but became such a nasty person on his way to success that he cannot find people willing to spend time with him to share it all.

Money and the gifts money can buy may define success for some. For others, money is merely a tool. For instance, a private jet allows them to be home to tuck their kids into bed at night rather than having to catch a flight the next day. Because their business demands so much travel, it’s just a time-saver that reduces stress. Things like private flights may seem glamorous, but most of these people work incredibly hard to keep up their lifestyle.

Success is a personal thing, and only you can define what it is for you. But to get there, you have to spend some time truly understanding what is important.

Important Questions

What makes you smile? What makes you laugh? What in your life was the perfect moment when you said to yourself, “I’ve never been happier”? If you were taking your last breath, who would you want surrounding you holding your hand? What would your regrets be? What do you want to spend your time doing? When are you in your peak state of mind? If you had only three days left, what would you do with them?

What makes you sad, discouraged, miserable? A great starting point is to determine what you don’t want in your life. I talk about that here. If you design your life to avoid those things, you’ll start with a great foundation. Setting standards for what you’re unwilling to do is the first step to happiness.

Adversity Created Who I Am

In 1999 I went to Silicon Valley with a big idea, raised several million dollars, started a company, invented and perfected a form of Internet radio technology, and thought I was living my dream … and I was, kinda. After all, I love being creative, I love surrounding myself with the best minds and kindest people, I love things that change the world in their own little way.

Yet I was not fully happy because I had not thought about the strings that tied me to things I did not like doing, like the constant efforts to raise more money; answering to others, especially people who had a different vision than my own; and having pressure to succeed because I didn’t want to let others down. I loved the art of it, but I did not love all the aspects of business. That experience ended badly, but as a result of it I was able to design the next stage of my life, which has gone beautifully because I knew what I no longer wanted to do, and the things I loved.

The harsh reality is that there will always be aspects of our lives that we don’t love but still have to get done. I’ve managed to surround myself with incredible people who happen to love those aspects that I oversee but don’t enjoy doing. It’s taken me a lot of years to get to that point, but it’s helped me focus on doing what I love.

Advice for Artists

For my artist friends who want to just paint or sculpt and don’t want to be businesspeople, the goal is to find ways to either learn to love the business aspects by finding tools and guides to help you through, or eventually, to find others willing to play those roles for you. In my case, I had to do many things myself, and I got good at them by changing my attitude toward them, telling myself I was going to be the best. Once I got to a point where I could afford to have someone help take them on, I passed the torch, yet because I know the different functions well, I’m better at guiding the overall process.

I Was Stuck and Didn’t Know It

We also can’t look backward at the things that hurt and make them our story. We all tend to get stuck. I know I did. I had set out for Silicon Valley to make billions, and I failed. I repeated that story in my head for at least 10 years, rather than looking at it as a time that helped me define who I am, helped me learn important lessons about myself and others, and gave me tremendous experiences. I allowed myself to feel wounded, fall into a deep depression, and stop taking chances. As a result I probably burned 10 valuable years until I pulled myself out of the funk I did not realize I was in. I got stuck in my story. Finally, I had to decide what my new story would be and how I was going to rewrite it. That’s how you design a life.

How Will Your Story Change?

We get stuck in our stories. We blame others who wronged us — and often it’s some pretty awful stuff. We blame our parents, our exes, our teachers, our friends who betrayed us, and we keep blaming and living out the story. Often, though we don’t know it, we like having a story that provides us an excuse to not move forward. But why would we want that? Instead we need to brush the old story off and realize it helped mold us into who we are today. Then we need to move forward.

It took me a lot of years to realize I was stuck and not moving forward because I was afraid I’d have another failure. We’ve got to stop giving ourselves excuses, stop blaming others, stop telling ourselves others have what they have because they had some advantage.

Now Is the Best Time

It’s time, right now, tonight at the stroke of midnight, to plant your flag in the ground and declare that this is your time, that this is your year, and that nothing will get in the way of your living the ideal life. Not other people, not past wounds, not fear, not restrictions, not money. It took me a lot of years to understand that I always got what I wanted most, though often those things had been hidden deep in my subconscious.

Stop the Insanity

The most important thing I can share on this eve of a new year is that you have to manage what you put in your head, because what you put in is what you’ll get out. Stop listening to the negative spewing of others about things you can’t control. Stop telling yourself those things make it impossible for you to succeed. Stop making excuses about why success isn’t possible. Stop beating yourself up.

Instead, focus on what puts a smile on your face. Spend your time around people who lift you up and avoid those who bring you down.

Action Matters Most

Focus on believing you can accomplish your big dreams, and understand it starts with belief but happens because of a focused action plan, and doing something every day toward that goal. Positive thinking is nice, but without a plan, it’s folly. I have a friend whose dream is a cabin in the woods by a lake, and he keeps thinking positively about it happening. Thirty years has passed, and he is still dreaming.

When I asked about his plan, his answer was, “It will happen because I wish it to happen.” Though I applaud his focus on having a goal, there has to be action toward that goal. It might be saving, it might be changing his circumstances, it might be making a commitment, putting a down payment on it, and forcing himself to move ahead. I don’t think he really believes in it, because if he did, he would be taking action.

Opening the Floodgates

My life changed once I realized that I was on this earth to use the gifts I’ve been given to help others live their dreams. Once I focused on that every day, the floodgates opened. It was like a light switch … the light came on when I stopped making things about me and started making everything about others. Once I set my goal to change the world in my little way, once I started to realize that I needed to be more generous with others, I saw a change in my attitude and my performance.

My Wish for You

As we enter this new year together, I want you to know that I have a wish for you … and that is that you realize your big dreams. That you live a rich and full life, with a big smile on your face, and that you are able to avoid most of the things and people that bring you down. I know that you may be lost, may have pain, may have anger or fear, but I want you to know that there really is light at the end of the tunnel and that you can pull yourself through the most difficult things you face. But you need to understand that no one else will pull you through; it lies on your shoulders. You can do this, no matter how daunting it may seem. It may happen slowly, it may happen fast, but it happens when you’re willing to make up your mind to make a change. We’ve all heard Einstein’s definition of insanity, which is expecting different results without changing what you’re doing.

If you’re stuck, if you’re lost, find a mentor who has managed to get through their issue to succeed on the other side. You may have it on your shoulders, but you need not do it alone.

And if your story isn’t working for you, write a new story. Write your obituary — figure out the things that you want to have happen in your life from this point forward, so you know what you have to get done in the time you have left.

Last, don’t let society dictate what is and is not possible. If you’re older, don’t let anyone tell you that you should slow down or stop because of your age. If you’re younger, don’t let anyone tell you that what you want to do requires more wisdom or time. You can “beat the system” because there is no system.

Do what brings you joy.

In 2018 may you be blessed with miles of smiles, surrounded by people you love and want to be around, filled with realized dreams and the ability to help others change their lives and the joy of knowing you did it on your own.

Eric Rhoads

PS: Don’t forget to reward yourself. Remember to put on your own oxygen mask before helping others. If you’re all give, and not doing something special to recharge your own batteries, you can’t be as effective. You deserve rewards. I like to start my year looking forward to a trip or an event so I have something think about, to plan, and to get me through rough patches. You can find lots of excuses not to do it, but you don’t need an excuse to pamper yourself.

A thin mist is in the morning air as fog hovers over the shimmering water. Distant pine trees are lined up perfectly like proud tin soldiers, though their usual green color appears as a muted bluish gray.

In the distance, beyond the trees, the sun is gradually peeking through over the Atlantic Ocean as its pink rays reach out in all directions, as though a chorus of “Hallelujah” is about to be played at the moment of sunrise this Christmas Eve morning.

There’s a subtle sound of water sloshing against the sides of the dock, and the pinging of rocking sailboat masts in the marina around me is singing out with the rhythm of the moving water.

I’m enjoying coffee, sunrise, and warm air from the shore overlooking a large bay, a distant island, and the ocean as we visit family in Florida for Christmas.

I have to admit something I’m not very proud of.

I was not really looking forward to spending the holidays with family. Though it should be a joy-filled time, and it is, it can also be filled with angst because of a few family issues that never seem to go away.

We all have family issues … they cannot be avoided.

The dynamics of different personalities, new family members imported and bringing different traditions and expectations, clashing styles, unhealed wounds, unrealized potential, frustrations, arguments, aging parents, health, and the tensions of Christmas are all part of that family dynamic.

Why, then, with all these issues, do families gather?

Why not just avoid all the drama, the people who don’t live up to our expectations, the people who annoy us? After all, in the rest of our lives, if there are people who behave badly or don’t live up to our ideals, we simply avoid them.

Estranged Family

I know there are families who do not gather because of their wounds. I know of families estranged. I have friends who have lost communication with one of their sons because an overly protective, domineering spouse decided they are evil people. The parents see things differently, and only the actors in this play know the real story. Yet hearts are breaking because the child they raised, and a new grandchild they’ve never met, are no longer in their lives.

I’d like to say this could never happen to me with my own children, but only time will tell, I suppose. We’re still dealing with high school and have a lot of life ahead of us, God willing. Yet I’ve seen it in my own life in other ways because people cling to the past, to a moment when we’ve said or done something, perhaps out of love, maybe out of anger, maybe with good intentions, maybe not. So avoidance is the best medicine, or so we think. Yet unresolved issues are begging to be resolved, and hearts continue to break. It’s so insane.

Holiday Magic

The magic of Christmas, or Hanukkah, or Thanksgiving, or Easter, or whatever moments our families gather, is that we are reunited, we reconnect, we break bread together, and we hope to put our issues aside for a few moments to honor the good memories of the past. It’s a time of miracles.

A Brief Moment of Sanity

On Christmas Eve 1914, during the First World War, German and British soldiers who were hunkered down in the frozen mud of the trenches put their differences aside and walked out between the battle lines, and played football — in honor of Christmas, the one thing they held in common. Though they didn’t share a common language, they laughed, shared food and drink, and then, when the time came, returned to their role of killing one another.

Though it seems odd that they could find a brief spot of joy in the midst of horrific devastation, they called a truce in honor of Christmas. None of them were there because they wanted to be; they were there because of differences between leaders they would never meet and countries in which they had no say in decisions about war.

At Christmas, families should call a truce.

Though disagreements and uncomfortable moments will happen, we can create a truce in honor of the institution of family. A bond bigger than our problems. A chance to enjoy the dynamic of the whole, not the individual.

Christmas is a chance to heal. The mere existence of Christmas is rooted in the birth of a Savior who taught forgiveness. Whether or not that’s your take on the holiday, forgiveness is never a bad thing (after the discomfort of making it happen).

Anticipation and Angst

So here I am in Florida, about to spend a few days surrounded by people I love, some I like very much, and some I tolerate or who tolerate me. We can choose our friends, but our family was chosen for us. Sometimes I have to work hard to keep my mouth shut, to be non-judgmental, to be civil, because I’m as imperfect as those around me.

Some, I know, say this is a time to resolve the issues of the past, when the family is all together. Though all things need resolution and opportunities to do so should be taken, there is also magic in just putting issues to the side and trying to have a good time first. From those good times, perhaps healing can begin as we realize maybe this or that person isn’t so bad after all. Not every moment together has to be a battle to resolve old wounds.

Envision Christmas as It Should Be

My friend Lee Milteer, who trains people in life and business, reminds us that we get what we visualize. I have found it to be true. If I am headed to a meeting and I rehearse positive outcomes and exact details in my mind first, things tend to turn out the way I envisioned them.

So why not envision Christmas as a time when wounds are healed, when bygones are truly bygones, when joy overcomes all issues?

I’m often tempted to expect the worst, but tonight, as my family gathers, I’m walking in fully prepared to expect the best.

Stop Judging, Start Listening

My job isn’t to judge others. Everyone has their reasons for their issues, and rather than judging and responding, my way of honoring Christmas is to open my arms, receive people as they are, be open, and listen. And if any decide to dip into their anger about the past, I’m not going to fight back or get sucked in, I’m simply going to be there and accept the joy of being with those I love. Remember my motto: no drama.

What about you? What is your expectation?

Maybe if you expect the best, the best will happen.

Merry Christmas.

Eric

PS: I need to take a moment to say a few words of gratitude to some people. First, my wife, who tolerates the worst of me, which no one else ever sees. Second, to my triplet teenagers, who offer unconditional love between hormonal rages. Third, to my supportive family members and parents; I’m blessed to have all of you in my life. Next, to my team at Streamline, who work so unbelievably hard so we can make people’s lives better by helping them discover the many products, magazines, newsletters, and training we offer. And, last but not least, to my friends who read this blog, and who attend our events and consume our magazines and videos. Thank you. Just this week, thanks to Fine Art Studio Online, we’ve added 41,000 additional readers. That was very generous of them to offer. And PleinAir remains the #1 selling art magazine in America (Barnes & Noble), for which I’m grateful. And the Plein Air Podcast, I just learned, is up to 158,000 listens after just a year, with about 18,000 per episode. Though my head wants to swell, I’m totally humbled.

Fog has softened the sage-colored live oaks in the backyard to a slight purplish tone as they fade into the distance, where the view of the mountain is nothing more than a white cloud.

Toasty reddish-brown is the color of the field of weeds, which is blending into the foggy purple background, while the trunks of the trees are barely visible.

A pattern of sound, “dat dat dat dat dat dat dat dat dat,” quietly sets the mood as the sprinkles strike the tin roof of the porch, which is about 120 feet long and 12 feet wide. The entire front and back of the house is a giant covered porch.

My Dream House

I can remember being about 15 when I started working on my dream house plans in my mind. One day, I thought, it would be cool to have a big wide porch that wraps around the entire house, with a tin roof, so I can sit safe and dry during rainstorms.

As children we would play in our two-car garage and open the door during storms to see the rain coming down, watch the lightning, and hear the rumbling thunder — we used to say, “God is bowling again.” A smile comes to my face as I think about that time — some memorable moments in that little brown house at 5311 Indiana Avenue in Fort Wayne. We moved there when I was about 2 and stayed there until I was a junior in high school.

My Own Personal Zoo

That little garage raised chickens for a science fair project my brother did, we raised a mountain lion cub there until we had to donate it to the local zoo, and it was home to my dog Pepper, who I got from a litter at my grandmother’s sister’s house in Tennessee. When we first got Pepper he wasn’t allowed in the house, so he lived in the garage at night and would howl endlessly. My dad, who’d insisted Pepper was to live in the garage and that it would be warm enough, was the one to let him in the house on the first cold night. “Just for tonight,” he said, but Pepper owned the house from that point forward, and all slippers and couches became his chew toys.

As I write this, my eyes tear up because I’ve squashed the feelings of losing my first dog, my first best friend. One day we were all playing basketball in the driveway. Pepper was jumping to get the ball as my brothers and I passed it, but he had one bad habit we were unable to break. He loved to chase cars.

The Roar of a Sports Car

As we played, a sports car with a loud muffler went by, and as I flash back, I think he slowed as he passed our driveway, and then zoomed off with Pepper chasing and barking. Then he slammed on his brakes so Pepper was in front of him, swerved over, and ran him down.

Pepper picked himself off the pavement, staggered painfully over to us, and died in our arms.

I cried for months and remember being in school and trying to hold back the tears, much as I’m doing now.

MURDER

This was premeditated murder. My brother hopped in his car, chased the car down, and saw it was a neighbor boy who lived way down at the end of the street. He just laughed and said he was tired of the dog chasing his car, so he decided to teach him a lesson. This boy’s parents owned a local cemetery, and I always wondered how someone could intentionally take the life of an animal like that, then laugh about it.

Maybe he’d become desensitized, or it was a basic lack of respect for life, or maybe he was just a spoiled brat who had a lot of issues. In any case, none of us were ever really the same after that day. A harsh reality of life was brought to light by this kid’s evil deed.

That was our last family dog. We simply could not endure the pain of losing another. And it was not until many years later, when Laurie and I got married, that I had a dog in my household, when we got two, Pooter and Leo. We’ve not replaced them, again because the pain of losing them is too great. I remember crawling inside a smelly cage at the vet and holding Leo for his final hours, and lying with Pooter, who lived to be 17, when he finally passed.

Comforting the Pain

Those who don’t have or never had pets often don’t realize how attached we get. When I see notices of passing pets on Facebook, I always try to reach out to comfort people because I’ve lived the same pain.

The kids have been pushing for another dog, something they want desperately. I wrote about it once before. But with college looming in two years, and the promise of more travel as the birds fly the nest, we’ve been resisting.

The Fine Art of Dogs

Maybe dogs are on my mind because this week artist Joanne Mangi stayed with us in the world famous artists’ cabin, where artists stay when they visit to shoot videos. She painted an amazing fine art portrait of my assistant Ali’s dog, Sam, for an upcoming pet portrait video. Joanne has six dogs, something I envy. What I love about her dog portraits is that they are fine paintings, like a fine portrait, that you would be willing to hang in your home. Nothing cheesy (no dogs playing cards).

Focus on the Good Times

It would be better to focus on all the times I laughed as a kid as I played with my dog, as he walked with me through the park, waiting for me to throw the ball. Though avoiding pain is a good reason to not get another, the joys of life with a canine friend can outweigh the tough moments when we have to say goodbye. Our pets lift our souls, stay at our side, rely on us to care for them, and show they’re happy to see us when others don’t.

What is that saying you see on bumper stickers? Wag more, bark less?

Wouldn’t it be great if you and I could be more like our dogs? Always happy to see others and expressing it. Enduring loyalty no matter how they are treated and complete, unconditional love.

That’s my mission for today. I’m going to wag more, bark less, encourage more, play more, and let those around me know that I’m endlessly loyal. What about you?

A tattered and worn sweatshirt that should have been thrown away years ago is warming me on this crisp morning. Though there are newer and nicer sweatshirts in the closet, there is extra cozy comfort in something old, worn, and tied to a memory. I can’t remember ever being so cold as I was that morning painting at Asilomar Beach in Monterey, California, where I bought the sweatshirt. It warmed me then as it does today.

Out on the porch this morning, it was simply too chilly, so I made my way to my little brown art studio in the woods behind my house. Decaying leaves and fallen acorns crunched under my feet as I walked through the yard, where I stopped briefly to look at the old swing my son Brady hung from a high oak branch. I flashed back to the joy on his face when he first built it and stood swinging for the first time.

A Yellow Glow

Brilliant, glowing yellow sunlight bleaches the wall and the wooden pillars holding up the old tin roof of the porch attached to my clapboard-covered studio. The red hammock next to the fireplace glows a reddish orange while it sways slightly in the breeze.

Entering my studio, I see the old 1930s Deco chair with rounded wooden arms and green and red fabric, where our models normally sit to be painted on Wednesday nights. My imaginary throne where I contemplate life and painting is about two feet off the floor.

Sounds of Silence

Silence fills the room, broken only by a “tock tock tock” that I rarely notice unless the room is this quiet. It’s an old quarter-sawn square clock, with a round face. Roman numerals share the face with the words “Standard Electric Time Company Springfield, Mass.” This old railroad station timekeeper has held up my wall for decades.

The Concept of Time

Back in the ’60s we used to ponder time, as though our young minds really understood anything about it. In that same era, a young man just four years older than me became a pop icon. And this past week on his deathbed, David Cassidy’s final words to his daughter Katie were “So much wasted time.”

The Most Profound Thing David Cassidy Said

In spite of his stardom, his recordings and concerts and fame, his last words may have been the most profound thing David Cassidy ever offered the world. We knew of him because we sang along to his songs, and it made us pay attention when we heard those succinct last words.

Far too many reminders of this temporary blip we call life have crossed my path in the past year, with too many good friends and acquaintances lost too soon. Though I never met this teen idol, he influenced the lives of millions of us when his songs became the soundtrack of our lives.

Not a Moment to Waste

In spite of the control I like to think I have by managing my mindset, my health, my diet and exercise, I’m reminded that all you and I have is this exact moment in time, and it must not be wasted.

The Cassidy quote hit me unusually hard. Rather than “I wasted so much time,” I want my final words to be, “I made valuable use of every remaining moment I was given.”

Cassidy’s daughter stated, “This will be a daily reminder for me to share my gratitude with those I love … as to never waste another minute.”

Burned by My Own Thoughts

Though none of us needs to be reminded that every moment is precious, I am reminded that I have burned far too many moments with worry, fear, anger, nervousness, wondering what others think, counting my mistakes, or absorbing negativity. Worse is spending time doing things I don’t love or things that don’t make others or myself better in some way.

Rarely do I regret a great story, movie, book, or conversation where I’ve learned something about someone else or myself.

The few regrets I do have are rooted in not listening, jumping to conclusions, reacting negatively, not approaching things with understanding or love, being critical, and just simply being selfish.

“Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves — regret for the past and fear for the future” — Fulton Oursler

Looking back with regret is of little value unless it acts as prevention for the future. I’ve squandered too many opportunities because I was frozen by fear or self-esteem issues. “What if they don’t like me? What are they inviting me for? What do they really want? They are just saying that — they couldn’t possibly really want me.”

Self-Sabotage

One day I realized that those thoughts were simply getting in my way, killing opportunity. Though they still pop into my brain every day, I try to push them out right away and simply tell myself, “That’s not me speaking, it’s my subconscious mind and my reptilian brain instincts just trying to protect me.”

Our brains, our self-esteem issues, our lack of belief in our own abilities are the roadblocks to taking advantage of every moment.

I believe the key to shedding our emotional baggage is understanding that it’s there, that it is not protecting you, it’s harming you, and that if you don’t shed it, you won’t live as fruitful a life as you deserve.

Failure Fears

For some the act of letting something stop you from doing these things is a protection mechanism because they fear failure. So, what if you do fail? Fail forward. All successful people will tell you that failure is the foundation of success. Embrace it.

Yes, you deserve to have every moment be as meaningful, wonderful, and memorable as possible. I know there are reasons you may think you are undeserving or incapable.

But if those thoughts are not serving you, it’s time to find thoughts that do serve you.

• I waste too much time on Facebook, Instagram, and e-mail. I need to spend more time talking and listening with friends and family. 
• I waste too much time watching the evil news. I need to spend more time reading and growing. 
• I waste too much time being critical of others. I need to spend more time building them up. 
• I need to spend more time seeking memories with those I will miss when they are gone. 
• I need to remember that wounds heal and that I cannot let them control me, and accept that others are doing the best that they know to do. And even if their intent was to hurt me, I will not give them that power anymore. 
• I need to break down walls and barriers to make my dreams come true, so I don’t look back wishing I had at least tried. 
• I need to seize more moments. 
• I need to throw myself more into life. 
• I need to stop letting procrastination, excuses, and negativity rule me. 
• I need to assume today is my last and that every moment needs to be my best.

Don’t waste time. It’s your biggest treasure. Maybe this is a good week to evaluate what you’re letting keep you from making every moment the life you want to live.

I leave you with the lyrics of a top David Cassidy song.

Eric

I’m sleeping
And right in the middle of a good dream
Like all at once I wake up
From something that keeps knockin’ at my brain.
Before I go insane
I hold my pillow to my head
And spring up in my bed
Screaming out the words I dread:
“I think I love you!”

This morning
I woke up with this feeling
I didn’t know how to deal with
And so I just decided to myself
I’d hide it to myself and never talk about it
And didn’t I go and shout it
When you walked into my room.

“I think I love you!”
I think I love you.
So what am I so afraid of?
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of
A love there is no cure for.

I think I love you.
Isn’t that what life is made of?
Though it worries me to say
I’ve never felt this way.

I don’t know what I’m up against.
I don’t know what it’s all about.
I got so much to think about.

Hey, I think I love you,
So what am I so afraid of?
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of
A love there is no cure for.
I think I love you.
Isn’t that what life is made of?
Though it worries me to say
I’ve never felt this way.

Believe me,
You really don’t have to worry.
I only want to make you happy
And if you say,
“Hey, go away,” I will
But I think better still,
I’d better stay around and love you.

Do you think I have a case?
Let me ask you to your face:
Do you think you love me?
I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.
Oh, I think I love you.

Composed by songwriter Tony Romeo in 1970.
I Think I Love You lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Fog has kissed the long, winding driveway, wet from the dew. Yellow light saturates the giant oaks as the morning sun streaks across the low fog lingering atop the grass, making an eerie effect of yellow light hitting slightly lavender-colored fog. I’m wishing I had a camera about now because I know it won’t last long enough for me to run, get my easel, and set up to paint it. I’ll have to rely on my memory for another time. Mornings make for great paintings.

Normal Sunday mornings are quiet and filled with solitude, but this morning I sit on the front porch, having just said farewell to the last of the visiting family members who are getting an early start in hopes of beating the traffic on their long drive to a distant city.

A Big, Beaming Smile

Flashbacks of our time together bring a smile to my face … playing games around the table, sitting up late nights talking, laughter, meals together, and more laughter. And though it’s hard to see them go, knowing it may be another year before we connect, there is also a sense of relief that things will return to normal around home.

Earlier in the week I posted a challenge to friends on Facebook, suggesting they post six days of photos that represent things they are grateful for. I’m surprised at how many have done it, but most enlightening is how special it makes them feel.

Take a Turn Around

A wise mentor once told me that when you’re feeling a little down, a little like things are not going well, do an about face … turn around and look backward at where you are, compared to where you started. Suddenly things come into focus when you realize that our sometimes unsatisfied striving to do more is met with the realization that we’ve all done so much. Looking backward instead of forward is a great gratitude exercise.

Human nature, I suppose, is always wanting more, wanting to improve, to grow, to take things to the next level.

Not Good Enough

Take my art studio, for instance. It’s not good enough … or so I was thinking. After all, the dream is to one day have a tall room with giant north-facing windows and a space big enough to do 20-foot paintings, and room for more visiting painters on Wednesday nights when I paint figures. One day, I think, maybe I’ll have that ultimate studio.

Yet this week a visiting guest was telling me how wonderful my studio is and how fortunate I am to have it, and as I stopped and looked back, I realized they were right. Before moving here and converting an old pool cabana into a studio (the previous owners never built the pool), I thought back to the days when I had a small corner of the garage. I’d go out every night, winter or summer, and be either too hot or too cold, but I was grateful to have it. It was better than when I had no garage.

By the act of someone else pointing out how lucky I am, and by the act of looking in reverse, I came to the realization that I’m lucky to have what I have and that the ultimate studio isn’t necessary. Somehow this has made me feel so much more grateful.

Of course, this exercise isn’t about a studio, it’s about all things and all situations. By turning around and looking backward, I see there is so much to be grateful for. I highly recommend it.

Things Are So Much Better

I’m also grateful that when I look back, most of my circumstances have improved. I know that’s not true for all, which makes me even more grateful. And it drives me to want to help them find a way that they too can look back and see that their own circumstances have improved.

Mining for Gratitude

I’ve spoken about gratitude before. Life gets easier and is more pleasant when approached with the spirit of being grateful. Though I don’t always accomplish it, there is value in thinking about three things you’re grateful for each day before you fall asleep, and first thing when you awaken.

Since I started this process, I found I was less grumpy and stopped taking things, and people, for granted.

A Single Notification

I also, at the urging of a wise friend, started trying to find one great thing about someone I know and making a point of sending them a note to point it out to them. Not only does it make their day, it makes me feel better by making them feel better. Therefore I try to do this every day, and because of it, I start the day with the right tone … gratitude passed along.

The concept of Thanksgiving is truly a blessing. A little prayer, a little round robin around the table where people talk about what they are giving thanks for, can be powerful stuff. A chance to speak well of others, a chance to let them know how much we care, though it may not be said often enough.

I’ve realized that the gift of Thanksgiving is something I need to repeat more frequently, not just one time a year, not just on holidays.

On Friday after Thanksgiving we were all barraged with the pressure of buying gifts for others and the obligations of Christmas or Hanukkah. This will continue tomorrow on “Cyber Monday” and will be repeated constantly for the next four weeks. Yet the gift has already been given for many of us — the gift of being grateful for others and what they have done for us.

The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past

I think back to Thanksgivings past and pine for the people who once shared the table but who are no longer with us. Though I’m thankful for their too-brief time in my life, I know that one day my chair will sit empty, and it is my hope that people will one day look back on their times with me and regret that I’m no longer there.

I feel as though that won’t happen, though, unless I spend my life doing more for people and expecting nothing in return. What can I do to leave them happier, feeling better about themselves? What can I do to encourage others? What can I do to help them live their dreams? What can I do to share my gratitude for knowing them?

The secret to living is giving. It’s taken me decades of being self-centered and selfish to realize that self has nothing to do with a rich life.

How we each give is personal. And if we give to get something in return, it’s empty.

A Great Year in the Making

In the next few weeks I’ll go through my annual exercise of planning my year, setting my goals, evaluating this year and what I did well and where I failed. In that process I will set some lofty goals, but those goals are not all about financial progress. They will measure how well my team and I did in serving others. How many more homes can we build in the local rehabilitation center to help homeless people get on their feet? How many more meals can we serve? How many more people can we teach to paint, so they can find the soul of an artist? How many more can we encourage? How many can we train to market their art so they can accomplish their dreams? What can we invent, create, or get better at doing so we can amplify these efforts and touch more lives?

Though today marks the end of the Thanksgiving weekend, for me it marks the beginning of my month of planning before I enter a fresh start for a new year.

Doing More

I realize I’ve not done enough. I can do more, my team can do more, and I can be more giving, more encouraging, and find more things to be grateful for. I know I’m held to a high standard by my maker, not to earn anything, but to share what I’ve been given because I’m moved to do so.

I’d like to say that I give thanks to you because you’ve taken precious time that will never return in order to read this little note today.

I’d also like to encourage you to adopt the one thing that changed my life, which is living with a spirit of generosity and gratitude. Start by selecting ways you can remind yourself of the things you too can be grateful for. Sometimes we forget and get caught up in all of our wounds. Next, seek ways you can encourage others, and help them see how much they are appreciated. Then start focusing on what you can do for others and take baby steps every day, starting today.

You see, it all boils down to two words. Thanks and giving.

Have a great day … and relax. You deserve it.

The air is thick with moisture and the distant mountain in my view is a grayish purple. The silence of the morning is so still that I can hear subtle little sounds, like the baby bird chirping quietly in its nest in the rafters of the porch. I can hear things in the distance I would never normally hear.

The light is flat. Somewhere the sun is nestled warmly inside a giant cloud, keeping the light from escaping.

Treetops gently sway to the mild breeze, like ballerinas rehearsing graceful moves on their toes.

I hear cries echoing in the distance, breaking up the gentle sounds of the morning. Coyotes, perhaps?

A Screaming Child

My ears perk up, my defense instincts kick in, and the adrenaline rushes to my heart. I’m suddenly hyper-aware, realizing the cry is that of a little girl. Though I cannot make out her words, her screams are deafening in the silent morning.

Should I call for help? Should I put on my shoes and run out into the distant woods to come to her rescue?

Three screams of desperation, and I make out “Daddy, help me! Daddy, help me!” She is screaming desperately, with all her might.

Tears well up in my eyes, I feel helpless, trying to make out the direction of the screams, but not knowing if I can get there in time, and what will I face. Surely a child is not alone in the woods in this early morning, just after sunrise.

Then, in the distance, a male voice is heard. “I’m coming! I’m coming, honey. I’ll be right there.” Relieved, I know I no longer need to be the rescuer. The screams stop. The silence returns. The mystery will never be resolved.

As I sit here I realize the moment has rattled me in so many ways, as tears continue to stream down my face.

Memories Flood My Heart

Memories of my own children at young ages flood into my heart, of moments they needed their daddy to come to their rescue. Though with triplets, those days were hard, it was wonderful to be the hero, to be needed.

Today those hero-seekers aren’t crying out for Dad’s or Mom’s help anymore. Instead, in their teenage years, they tend to be annoyed with us, relying on us for sustenance and coin, but little else. Though I used to be the knight in shining armor, now I’m just “Oh, Dad.”

The Speed of Parenting

Time travel really is possible; I’ve lived it now for 15 years as I watched little seeds grow into saplings and then young trees — in what seems like a flash. Though others warned me, no words can really prepare a parent for the speed at which our children grow ready to jump from the nest, hopefully prepared to fly.

Driver training will soon lead to drivers’ licenses, the first true freedom, and the beginning of our separation. Truly we are caretakers for but a brief period.

The prospect of life without our munchkins at home in just three years is both frightening and exhilarating. Life as an at-home parent ends while a whole new empty-nester chapter of life unfolds. In our case, we’ll see all three jump the nest at one time. No chance to try it once, then another a couple of years later, and then another. It will be cold turkey.

Looking Forward to the Empty Nest

I feel guilty for looking forward to days when driving them to school at 6:30 for band practice is replaced by awakening to go paint or to get to work early, or maybe even sleeping in. Yet my heart already aches knowing my little entertainers won’t be around to brighten each day.

Friends who have experienced this transition tell me it’s the hardest, yet the best time, seeing kids go out on their own. But of course parenting never ends. Thank God for small favors.

An Unexpected Gift

Hearing that child cry out hit me in an unusual way this morning, a way I wouldn’t have expected, a way that rocked my heart and made me wish I were more needed by my offspring. My hope is that, as uncool as I am today, maybe there is some double reverse psychology, and their hormonal convictions of my uncoolness are really hidden signs that Dad is needed still.

The little girl’s cries remind me that we all need someone to run to, someone to rescue us, to be there in our moment of need. Though our hardened shell of adulthood often does not allow those cries to be heard, they are there, somewhere under layers of self-protection.

Friends who have lost their parents tell me they would give anything for one hour more. We all need someone to run to, to rescue us, to reassure us, to let us know that everything will be OK.

A Lifetime Commitment

A parent’s role never really ends. My calls to my aging parents, now in their 90s, are still reassurance, even though sometimes we have reversed roles and their cries for a knight in shining armor have turned to us. Parent becomes child, yet still remains parent.

It’s an amazing phenomenon that parents raise us and prepare us for life, and eventually we become their caregivers in turn. My parents prepared me for that role, and my hope is that I am a thoughtful enough parent that my kids will one day be willing to play the role for me, and hear my cries for help in the forest when I’m feeling frightened and alone.

I realized this morning that we all have moments when we’re crying out for help, wanting someone to rescue us, to be there for us, to save us.

Seeing Through Misbehavior

Though people act out and misbehave in ways that make us want nothing to do with them, perhaps we need to understand that sometimes they just don’t know how to ask for help. Their arrogance or nastiness or negativity may be a hidden code that’s saying, “Be there for me, help me, pay attention to me, understand me, save me.”

Cowardly Hit and Run

Recently I ran into a critical person on social media — someone who has never met me, never attended one of my events, never gotten to know me, but who slammed me, berated me, challenged me, and was as nasty as it gets because of my success and their perception that I’m “raping the land” because I’m an “opportunist.”

It hurt badly, not so much because I knew this originated with someone I knew who had betrayed me, but because someone made assumptions when they did not know my heart and my passion to help people grow, improve, and find the creativity inside themselves. They don’t know that my life changed when I discovered painting and that my passion is to help others find what I found. They just assumed I’m all about the money.

Too often these things lead to Facebook duels where anything can be spoken by people who would never have the courage to say something face-to-face.

What if we were to look at such behavior differently and ask ourselves, “Is it a cry for help? Is it a cry to be understood? Is this anger and vitriol present because someone just wants us to see their side of the argument?” Then perhaps we could lay down our swords, listen, and find peace between us.

We all just want to be heard.

Stop Solving

As a husband and a dad, it’s something I struggle with every day because I want to spout my own opinions before I’ve properly heard what’s being said. And, in typical male fashion, I want to solve the problems even when people don’t want solutions, they just want acknowledgement and someone to listen.

The little girl crying out in the woods lives inside each of us. The rescuing daddy also lies in each of us. All the roles we are given can be reversed. One minute we’re the crying child in need while another moment we’re the rescuing father or mother. It’s a complex world.

Training Future Behavior

Sometimes I fail to remember that the way I treat my children today will determine if they are there for me in the future. And the way I treat my parents is a model for how I’ve trained my kids to treat their parents.

It’s not an excuse to let bad behavior off the hook, but it is a reminder that we all need to be treated with respect. As my kids have grown from babies to toddlers to young adults, I’m reminded that they can handle more, and have to be treated differently in each phase. Like me, they want to be treated with respect and listened to. And it’s a reminder that the same is true in my time with my parents, who devoted their lives to making sure I turned out OK (it’s still too early to tell), and I need to be there for them more.

I’m reminded to see the other side. To listen for clues. To react less and to listen more.

Unknown Behavior

We are all crying out for help at times, even when we don’t know it. A therapist I met with once helped me understand that sometimes when I clam up, don’t talk, and don’t share my feelings, it’s because I fear I’ll be hurt, and I fear that others won’t listen.

Today that child’s cry for help, echoing in the woods, is cemented into my brain, as a reminder that my primary goal is to be there to rescue, not be rescued, and that if I give to others as I want to receive, I’ll bring joy to them and rescue myself.

Why Now, Why Me?

I find it odd that as I stepped out onto the porch this morning, wondering what I was going to write, God placed that child there with a cry for help at the very moment I walked outside. A moment that lasted less than 30 seconds, and has never occurred before, the entire time I’ve been living here. And I have no idea why it struck me, why tears welled up in my eyes, and why I drew the conclusions that were laid upon my heart. But I’m happy it happened, because I needed a reminder to be a knight in shining armor for everyone in my life.

Today, as you enter your day, you will encounter others. Some will be gentle and loving, others may be angry or annoyed. Some may be downright nasty. We cannot control how they act, we can only control how we react. We can RE-act by reflecting their actions, or we can RE-act by changing the tone and the dynamic.

Stop. Listen.

Perhaps today, and all week, if you too remember the crying child in need of rescue, you can ask yourself why someone is saying what they are saying. What do they really need? How can I react with love? How can I listen more? How can I be there as their knight in shining armor?

And I want you to know that I’m willing to listen. If you have a need, if you need someone to hear your voice and there is no one there who can do it, or who is listening, drop me a line. I will respond.

And thanks for listening and letting me be heard. It means a lot. It’s probably why I write these missives each Sunday. I just want to be heard.

The annoying buzzer in my iPhone startles me, and my eyes open to the patio door overlooking the seven-story-high view from the classic Biltmore Hotel in Miami. As I look out over a mist-covered golf course, the birds are singing happy tunes and the gray billowing clouds are decorated with glowing pink edges as the sun emerges from the ocean. Shadows of palm trees seem to extend six times their length across the manicured lawn.

Coffee from the little in-room machine awakens my brain as I sit observing the distant city, lights still aglow. As I think back over my week, a smile comes to my face. A very big, very hard-to-accomplish dream has come true. The feeling, and the impact of it all, make my eyes well up in gratitude. This was a long time coming, after years of discouragement and roadblocks. It all came from daydreaming, which, I was told, was a bad thing. I start thinking back to my fourth grade daydreaming experience. It wasn’t pretty.

School with Brown Bricks, Massive Chalkboards, and an Old Clock

Sitting at my little brown oak one-piece school desk, with 40 years of names carved on it, I looked up to find Mrs. Burkett staring down at me, hands on her hips. “That’s, it Rhoads,” she said, as she grabbed me by the ear and walked me all the way down the long, locker-lined hall to the principal’s office. “I’m tired of this daydreaming. You’ve got to pay more attention, and since you’re not willing, there will be consequences.”

Frankly, this was a trip I had made many times before, in every grade. My mind was elsewhere through most of school, and I’m sure the principal rolled his eyes when I was there again for daydreaming.

Knocking Knees in the Principal’s Office

I can remember sitting nervously in the chair outside his office, knees knocking, palms sweating. In those days, if we did something wrong we got whacked with a paddle. I’d had it many times before and honestly could not understand why daydreaming was a crime so bad that someone would bend me over for a WHACK!

Worse than a spanking was a call to my parents. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to mind my daydreaming. “It’s what I do at work. It’s how things happen,” said my dad. “I’m not too concerned. You’ll be fine even if you get poor grades in school. Don’t let them get you down. Daydreaming is a good thing.”

The Luck of Great Parents

Maybe they worried secretly behind the scenes, but I got nothing but encouragement as a child. I’m thankful I won the lottery and was born to loving, encouraging parents, and I’m thankful I got the daydreaming gene that helped my dad build his business into some life-changing products.

Daydreaming may have been met with punishment in fourth grade, but it placed me into a wonderful world of ideas and a life of “What if?” curiosity. I clearly did not fit the school mold, got horrible grades, did not go to college, and though I struggled for lots of years building out my ideas in business, it’s been a grand ride so far.

Daydreaming resulted in a lot of things that are hopefully making life better for those around me, especially my artist friends, who need encouragement, process, training, and tools to help them succeed.

One of those dreams came true this week.

As a dreamer, I have learned that the best dreams are the ones that come with the most discouragement. Whenever someone tells me something is impossible, it’s like putting jet fuel in my brain. It makes me want to prove them wrong.

A Special Place for Special People

I had this dream to create an event for figurative and portrait artists. My dream was not to try to imitate or replace the Portrait Society conference, a wonderful event. It was to create an event for museum-quality artists who felt they didn’t fit into the world of commissioned portraits. An event that helped them understand the differences in how they need to proceed with their careers, and a hands-on event where artists could practice on the spot what they had learned.

Everyone told me it couldn’t be done. Everyone told me my dream team of instructors could never be put together. Everyone told me there was no need for a second conference.

Fighting Doubt

Though doubts crept into my brain from time to time, I pushed them out and continued on the path. It was not easy; I got a lot of resistance. In fact, I got so much resistance I almost pulled the plug. But I didn’t.

Instead I moved forward, created FACE (the Figurative Art Convention & Expo) and brought in TRAC (The Representational Art Conference) in an effort to keep their good work alive after their own event had been shuttered.

My own team, in some cases, tried to discourage me from producing the FACE convention. “It’s too risky. If we fail, it could put the entire company out of business.” But they said the same thing when I launched the Plein Air Convention & Expo.

But frankly, that made me very nervous. My head was full of doubts. “What if they’re right? How will I feed my kids?”

Well, in spite of it all, yesterday we wrapped up the first FACE event, and I’m proud to say it was well attended and well received. (You can read all about it in Fine Art Connoisseur’s next issue.)

The most satisfying part was the gratitude of those in attendance, many of whom were not in a position to move to a big city and attend an atelier. They threw around words like “life-changing,” “historically important,” and “unlike anything else.”

I’m humbled.

A Redheaded Encounter

One young man — I can’t recall his name, but he had crazy red hair — came up to me to talk and asked, “Why you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you decide to do this convention? What made you do it?”

I hadn’t thought about that. I knew why I did it, but I had not stopped to think about why me.

I’ll tell you what I told him…

Sometimes ideas come to me that are so important, I know they need to be done. I look around and try to find out if anyone else is doing them, and if nobody is, I feel so driven by the need and importance of the idea that I have to go ahead. I figure that if I don’t do it, it may never get done at all.

Driven by Need and Passion

I told him that I was passionate about two kinds of painting, plein air landscape painting and figure/portrait painting, and that I felt the museum-quality artists — and those who want to be — were not being served, that there was a need for unity in our type of painting so we can build a bright future, and there was a need for a training event to train our brains in technique, tools, philosophy, and ways to see it all grow and blossom into something bigger.

Though I never stopped to think “Why me?” I kind of take the attitude of “Why not me?” If I’ve been blessed with the tools, or an idea or a vision, and if it needs to be done, why not me?

I say this with complete humility, and don’t want for a second to send the signal that I think I’m special or important. I just feel as though an idea was laid in my lap because it needed to be done.

Though I’m a little more established than I was when I started this wild journey, I’m not a wealthy man, and what money I make, I tend to put back into the business to do more cool things to help people grow as painters, as collectors, and as professionals or hobbyists. A conference like this put hundreds of thousands of dollars at risk, and if it failed, I’d be almost on the streets, painting full-time for a living and trying to pay off my debts and feed my family. It’s a little scary, which is why I was relieved when we sold enough seats to almost cover my costs.

Little Voices with Big Ideas

But when that little voice in my head sends me ideas, I feel as though I have to act on them, and it’s irresponsible to the cause not to act on them — even if it’s scary, even if I don’t have the money. I figure if something is truly worthy, I’ll find a way to do it.

With that, I ask you the same thing: Why not you?

Each of us has ideas, burning desires, and those dreams need to be acted on. You don’t want to wake up in old age wishing you had done something important.

I find that ideas come, probably several a day. If one idea keeps coming up and gains more and more importance in my mind, I’ll persist, run it up the flagpole with my team, and see how they react. Then I’ll do what I want anyway. Sometimes I listen to their wisdom, sometimes I change the direction of an idea based on their input, sometimes I put it aside till the timing is right. The problem is that some ideas have a time, and if they don’t get done in that time, they won’t serve their special purpose.

Listen, Can You Hear Your Heart?

I’d like to encourage you to listen to your ideas, listen to your heart, and follow your passion. Yes, it’s frightening. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it may take months or years. Yet if you don’t follow your passion, you’ll always regret it. No matter what the obstacles, you will find a way to get around them because your passion to change the world in your way will drive you.

Conditions will never be perfect. People will always tell you why your ideas won’t work. Don’t wait. Go for it anyway. I’ve launched many ideas that people said wouldn’t work. Some failed, but some succeeded.

Fail Forward

If you fail at first, don’t give up. Keep finding a way. Keep failing. Just like painting, you have to do a lot of bad paintings before you can do good ones. Failure is growth. So if you’re asking yourself “What if I fail?” just know that if you don’t fail, you don’t grow.

I recommend you write down your ideas, pick the one that will help others and will change the world, and run with it. Don’t walk. RUN! Run through roadblocks. Run past negative people. Run to the goal, and if you do, lives will change and you will have made a difference in your own life.

Don’t think that doing life-changing things is for special people with special skills or talents. It’s not true. People who change the world in their little way are just people with passion that is so strong that it overcomes their fears.

I wish you well in your journey and ask you to consider today: What has been in my head and my heart that needs to be done? Then ask yourself, “Why not me?”

Shivering as I stepped out of my cozy bed this morning as the sun warmed my lids, I put on my warmest and oldest sweater, a cherished gift from my father at Christmas over 30 years ago. It’s a brown, hand-knitted sweater with a Native American pattern, and real antique buffalo nickels as buttons. It’s soft, it’s warm, it’s a little baggy now, and it’s one of the few things I’d grab if there was a fire, because it’s part of a family tradition. All the members of our family have two … one brown, one blue. These will become family heirlooms because they were knitted by an artist, Charles Atwood King, in Upstate New York.

Glowing Light

This morning’s light is glowing orange as it dances across the plants and grass in the backyard and lights up the side of my studio building. I’ve painted it many times, but never captured that Sorolla look of light. I’ll keep practicing, but this morning, staying warm is my priority. I’ve made my way over to the outdoor fireplace, something that makes these mornings even more special.

Sometimes it’s the little things that mean the most. Little family traditions, little things that warm our souls … like sweaters, fireplaces, old shoes, or the photo albums we’ve not fed since digital entered our lives. I’m sure one day, once the hard drives have crashed, kids sneaking into the attic to look at the chronicle of our lives won’t be the same. I must get around to making prints, but that is so 1980s.

Home, as you know, is my center. The sound of the old wooden screen door slamming behind me, the squeak in the bathroom door I should fix, but kind of like, and the marks on the doorjamb that show each child’s height over the years.

Homeward Bound

I returned home just yesterday. Wanting to be home, I got up in New York at 3 a.m. after getting in bed at midnight, took a car to the New York airport for a 7 a.m. flight, and was home by 10. The kids were still in bed, so I was there to cook breakfast and start their day. I’ll do the same today, then board a flight out to Miami to prepare for ourFigurative Art Convention & Expo.

My 24-hour trip to New York was a complete luxury and a trip I didn’t need to make, a trip whose expense was not necessary — but there was something so special that I wanted to be a part of it, because history is so important in art.

We Are Old Photos to Come

I love old photos of artists from the 1940s (or 1840s), and I love to look back upon traditions, which is why I wanted to be at the event on Friday night celebrating the Salmagundi Club’s 100th anniversary in its Fifth Avenue location. I also knew it would be an opportunity to see all my friends and meet people I’ve always wanted to meet. It was a grand event, and you’ll read about in Fine Art Connoisseur and Fine Art Today.

Can You Say Sleepy?

My first visit to the Salmagundi Club was disturbing. I was the guest of a member, and we ate in the downstairs dining room. The walls were covered with historical paintings by members — the history as rich as it gets for a painter. Yet everyone I saw in the club seemed to be over 70.

As I looked into it, I found the membership was on the decline, and there were few activities to draw younger artists. It was my prediction that this wonderful club would die off with its remaining members.

A year later, in the same dining room, I visited with a man who had just joined the club’s board and had the same feelings about its future. He managed to step in, get beyond the politics and deep resistance to change, and slowly rebuild the club.

New Oxygen in an Old Place

Today, about 10 years later, the club has returned to its former vibrant prominence and become a venue for important art shows and activities. It was the vision of Tim Newton and his board, and key members like Roger Rossi, that brought the club back to life. Had this not happened, I’m not sure the club would have ever made it to 100 years on Fifth.

The California Art Club was going through the same thing. Great heritage, but dying a slow death. But it was saved and revitalized over 20-plus years by Elaine and Peter Adams.

Ties to a Tattered Past

My visit to the club on Friday got me thinking about the importance of being a part of something old, something with roots in the past, something that held on to deep tradition. As an artist and publisher, I want to be a part of something that artists cherished 100 years ago. I love walking through the library knowing the great artists of the past were in that room, smoking cigars and telling stories about paintings. Those same artists’ paintings fill museums today.

There is something magical about being a part of these kinds of traditions. Maybe it’s knowing that perhaps artists in the future will look back at the old pictures of us at the 100-year event, wishing they could have been alive to meet the iconic artists of our time.

Icons of the Future

We often don’t think about or realize that artists like Joe McGurl, Don Demers, John Stobart, C.W. Mundy, Quang Ho, and others, too many to mention, will be hanging in major museums (some already are) and will be the icons people look back upon and wish they could have known.

This is what drives me to do so many art instruction DVDs with interviews … it’s recording history and technique, because I wish I had video of Sargent. It’s for that reason our library of over 200 videoscontinues to sell, even videos shot almost 30 years ago. These are historic documents.

I’ve realized that linking to history is important to us all, and that each of us needs to find a way to create traditions. Someone, probably a group of a few artists over dinner or drinks, started the California Art Club and the Salmagundi Club. What can you and I start? What traditions can we be a part of?

Give some thought to traditions you are a part of and the gifts they provide, and perhaps something you can do to start traditions or fix something in need of new life.

Half-awake and walking out of my room to brew my coffee, I suddenly jumped at the sight of a frightening mask among the Halloween costumes flung over the back of the family room chairs. The kids, who attended a school party last night, need to tidy up a bit once they awaken. I think I jumped into the next room.

Days are getting shorter, mornings are dark longer, and it’s pitch black outside. The stars are still visible as I quietly make my way to the porch, trying not to awaken my wife in the room next door. The smell of coffee is filling my lungs as the glow on the horizon begins, and it soon brightens the trees with an orange light as morning officially arrives.

Signs of Halloween

Crisp air, and the scent of fall — I’m in the mood for some fresh apple cider. I’ve already started dipping into the Halloween candy (yum!). And last Sunday we made our way out to a local farm that has lots of Halloween activities — face painting, pumpkin carving, corn maze, and so on. It’s funny, the kids are teens and like to act grown up, yet they still love going there.

Football in Texas. Amen!

It’s football weather. Football in Texas is almost a religion, and since our triplets are in the marching band, we’ve been spending our Friday nights at the games to support our kids and their school. Though I’ve never been sports-minded, I have to admit I’m catching the disease. We’re pretty energized because our team is going to the playoffs, and on the way we beat a team no one has beaten in 11 years. Yay, team!

Our stadium was used in the filming of the TV show Friday Night Lights. It’s the first high school stadium I’ve seen with a jumbotron. I have to admit, it’s pretty cool, but a lot different from the rickety, rotting wooden bleachers at Homestead High School in Indiana, where I graduated.

Happy at Home

I’m grateful to be here. Though I love my travels and my responsibilities have taken me to some very interesting places lately, as Dorothy said when she clicked her ruby slippers, there really is no place like home. Yet soon, I’ll head out for a marketing class I’m taking in Orlando because I want to keep my ax sharpened.

In November I’ve got our new Figurative Art Convention & Expo (FACE) in Miami, which I’m really excited about. My two passions are plein air painting and figure/portrait painting. We’ve managed to put people together on stage who are unlikely to ever be together again.

Exciting and New

After the Miami FACE event I head straight to our Radio Forecast conference at the Harvard Club in New York, which is put on by my radio magazine (which is celebrating 25 years at the event). Then I’m off to the world famous Salmagundi Club for an event celebrating the 100th anniversary of its Fifth Avenue location.

That ends my travel for the year. Then I get to stay home with the kids for a week while mama travels to a conference. I’m sure it will be bubblegum, pizza, and cupcakes every night! (I know she reads this, and she’s always concerned about how I feed the kids.) (Smile.)

The year will wrap up with a couple more video shoots in our studios here in Austin. Then I get to stabilize for the balance of the year before the insane travel begins again.

Sometimes when I have a lot of events back to back, I don’t have time to stop and think about them until things settle down. I’m still processing the annual Radio Show convention, plus an event I held at the Wizard Academy, then the Fine Art Connoisseur art tour to Russia, my time painting in Russia, and my Fall Color Week artists’ retreat in Maine, which all came one right after the other. Thank goodness for my iPhone camera so I can remember where I was last week!

Eavesdropping

Recently at Fall Color Week I was painting next to Barbara Tapp, an amazing watercolor painter from Berkeley, California (where our kids were born). While we were standing there, she struck up a conversation with a couple visiting the area, heard about how the man had grown up nearby, had been gone for most of his life, and finally came back for a visit. The place, Schoodic Point, was just as he had remembered it.

I’m listening to the conversation when Barbara says to the couple, “My painting will be done in about half an hour. If you’ll come back then, I’d like to give it to you. Would you like to have it?”

The couple was deeply touched. “You would do that for us?” Barbara explained that because they had such a deep connection with the area, the painting would be a nice reminder of their old home, and it would be a pleasure to give it away.

She finished the painting, signed it, put it in a nice matte, and gave it to them when they returned. Though they offered to pay her for it, she insisted that it would be her gift to them and that their joy was payment enough.

The Story of Giveaways

Later that evening, during announcements, I asked Barbara to come up and tell the story, and I learned that her goal is to help the world by giving one painting away each day. She has already given away dozens and had stories of others during Fall Color Week in Maine.

Each story was touching.

Well, the next day, this trend had caught on. Rick Wilson and I painted, with permission, on a farm with an amazing view, and the owner was very engaged with what we were doing. But she mentioned that people often stop, walk on her property without her permission to take pictures, and some set up and paint without permission. She was thrilled that we had asked. So Rick said, “When this painting is finished, I’d like you to have it so you know not all artists are going to walk on to your property without permission.” She was so excited that I ended up giving her my painting, too.

Though neither of us liked the idea of giving away a painting we wanted to keep, we both felt very special about making an old woman’s day. We both went back a few days later to do another painting from the same spot, and she already had Rick’s painting framed and proudly took us in to show it hanging in her house (mine was still wet).

Others in the group also brought in stories about giving away paintings. Everyone felt great about their generosity.

Hmm. Maybe We Can Use This to Our Advantage…

The marketing guy in me suggested a couple of lines to use when giving a painting away, so that value is established. I suggested one way to do it is to say, “I’d like you to have this. I normally sell them for $2,500 in my gallery. I want you to have it because I believe every home should have original artwork, and because (your reason here).” Then you reinforce that all paintings are not free or cheap, and that original artwork is a good thing.

Before we knew it, everyone was giving away paintings and had stories about special connections with people. Barbara reports that she hears from most people she’s given paintings, and she’s enriched her life with new friends, visits from people she has met, and a feeling that she is doing something special to help others through her art.

Barbara Tapp may have started a trend.

A Spirit of Generosity

What if we all tried this? What if we all lived with a spirit of generosity? What impact would we have on the world? And how would it affect people getting excited about owning more original art?

Though a giveaway doesn’t have to be every day, what if when you’re out, you do a small piece, knowing that you may encounter someone who needs to have their day lifted, or to have a special memory?

Everything in life cannot be about selling. If you do artwork, photography, something else … why not try it?

My dad, an accomplished photographer, takes a large matted photo with him to every dinner party, every doctor visit, every special event. It enriches his experience with others and makes them feel special.

Giving Creates Gifts to Yourself

Though some will be critical and think giving things away will hurt their sales, nothing could be further from the truth. Giving always results in other benefits more valuable than a sale. Barbara reports some recipients have actually gone to her website to buy something, though that is not her intent.

Is Generosity in Your Future?

What can you do to live generously today? It may not be about a painting, or even a physical gift at all. It may be about listening or helping or just reaching out to someone who needs an ear.

One generous person I got to know on our first Cuba trip is artist Nancie King Mertz, who stayed in the World Famous Artists’ Cabin this week at our house to film a couple of amazing pastel art instruction videos. We were thrilled to get to know her better and experience her generosity.

It’s my wish that generosity will impact your day today. And be overly generous with the candy this Halloween 🙂