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

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

These are the sounds of summer. 

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

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

Summer was a time of adventure and exploration.

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

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

The End Is Near

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

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

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

Luck

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

Fatherly Advice

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

Trapped with Money

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

Living the Life of Others

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

Time Runs Out

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

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

Get busy. Focus on being deliberate. 

Eric Rhoads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucky You

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

Limited Time

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

Powerful Dreams

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

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

My Sucko Boss

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

Embrace Horrible Moments

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

Kicked Into Action

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

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

Doing the Right Thing

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

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

Problems Seem Bigger Than They Are

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

Where are you stuck? 

Are you feeling trapped?

What is frustrating you?

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

Eric Rhoads

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

I just experienced two of those moments.

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

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

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

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

Another thing…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s holding you back?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you OK? 

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

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

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

Are you gonna retire?

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

So why would I stop? What would I do?

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

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

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

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

Are you going to continue with your daily YouTube show?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do you need? How can we help?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eric Rhoads

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

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

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

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

A squirrel chatters loudly as it jumps across the lace-like tree branches that surround my 140-year-old octagon-shaped porch overlooking the lake. It’s my favorite place — where I have morning coffee, where I read in the evenings, and where I sit to relax during those rare times when I have downtime. When guests come, it’s where most of our chatting takes place, and it’s where I practice my guitar. Sometimes I just sit and stare at the lake and listen to the loons.

Unlike June, our first month here at the lake, when things were silent and it was rare to see a boat or a neighbor, the July 4th holiday stimulated most surrounding camps to fill every cabin with guests. It got busy with boats and parties, and now it’s deadly quiet again. But most will be back in another week for the rest of the summer.

Some summers at the Rhoads camp are packed with visiting friends, but so far we’ve had no guests. But we’ve had the gift of having all three kids home together, a rarity these days with their busy lives. I told them I’m happiest when we are all together. 

Another Lake Another Time

Growing up, life seemed normal when my parents and brothers and I were all together at our lake home on Lake Wawasee in Indiana. We boated, sailed, did water skiing and canoeing together, cooked out, and played games at night. We managed to carry that summer tradition through high school and college ages. And we were shocked when we thought it was all coming to an end, when Dad sold the place to move off the lake after being there for three generations. 

None of us were terribly excited about the new place in the Adirondacks, not because it wasn’t beautiful, but because our tradition, our secure feeling, was uprooted. Our comfort zone had been disrupted. But dad was ultimately right. Living on Golden Pond was better. We fought it for a while, but eventually fell in love with the new place’s stunning beauty, lush woods, and rich history. And we continued those same family traditions here and built new, better traditions, like breakfast in the tiny Trapper Cabin and dessert and ghost stories in the Teepee.

The Power of Disruption

It takes a special vision to disrupt family tradition, to abandon a place where our grandparents and great-grandparents had lived. But it had changed, and instead of a quiet, tree-lined lake, it had become packed with houses squeezed in together and thousands of loud, exhaust-spewing ski boats and jet skis. A teenager’s dream, but not a very peaceful place for civilized adults. 

I wonder if I could have done what my dad did, making a disruptive change for the better against the wishes of my family. Or would I succumb to the pressure to keep things the way they are, just because it’s always been done that way?

What about you?

Family is one thing, business is another. Recently I’ve experienced some planned disruption in my business. I felt the need to make a change and replace a perfectly lovely person, and friend. There was nothing wrong with this person, who was perfectly competent, but change was needed to take things to the next level, and there was no place to put this person. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, but it was the right thing to do if I was to prepare for the next level of growth. In reality, I resisted it; I did not want to let go and make the change, because comfort is easier than disruption.

Disruption is painful. It’s uncomfortable. Having to ask good people to move on is the worst. Yet if you don’t do it, you eventually risk suffering the effects of no change, which can put more jobs at risk.

Is there a place in your life or work where your gut is telling you to make a change, but you’re resisting? 

Pain Is Gain

Every high achiever I’ve ever studied has said exactly the same thing: You don’t grow if you don’t face pain. Making changes in your life, your work life, your relationships is painful. Not making them tends to result in becoming like a stale pond of still water … stagnant and gathering algae. Yet when you put a fountain in the middle of a pond, to agitate the water and keep things alive and moving, the pond recovers from being stale. The same is true for life.

Are you due to be agitated? Have you become stale?

Apple founder Steve Jobs, who was known for disruption, famously said, “Innovation is the ability to see change as an opportunity, not a threat.” His perspective embraces disruption rather than fearing it. Even Helen Keller highlighted the power of adversity: “Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.” Facing pain head-on can lead to resilience and strength. As 1888 presidential candidate Frederick Douglass said, “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.” 

Recently a Navy SEAL talked in a TikTok video about how all the good things that happened in his life occurred because of his willingness to endure pain. The more pain you suffer, the better things get.

’I Should Have Done It Sooner’

I often hear those words from someone who delayed making a change for years, only to look back and realize it was not as painful as they had feared, and that things were better. Someone else I know told me they had clung to a job they hated, eventually got fired, and told me it was the kick in the butt they needed. Life is better as a result. It might be a job, a relationship, or a work-related decision.

Using Milestones

We are officially at the halfway point of 2024. It went by so fast — it feels like it was just New Year’s. I like to look at milestones like this as a chance to start thinking about what I want to change next year, then using the next six months to make a plan and lay the track. If I don’t, life gets away and growth never happens. Birthdays are a great time to ask yourself if you’re happy, or if you need to make changes or need to push yourself out of your comfort zone.

If something about that is ringing true, ask yourself, “What should I do about it, and why do I fear it?” What’s the worst that can happen? It’s probably not as bad as you think it is.

Be bold. Be strong. Make a decision and move forward so you don’t become a stagnant pond.

Eric Rhoads

PS: A friend of mine says, “If I lose sleep over something more than three nights, I need to make a change.” Usually it’s about someone causing you grief that needs to move out of your life. Sometimes, though, we tolerate it because they are people we cannot completely disconnect from … like family. What are you losing sleep over?

I used to lose sleep over learning to paint. I wanted to do art, but I feared that I would fail, so I did nothing. I knew I did not have natural talent and couldn’t even draw a stick figure well. My attempts reinforced my beliefs, and once a teacher even told me, “You really aren’t cut out for this.” I was devastated but not surprised.

Years later, I accidentally came across info about an instructor who sounded different, so I sought him out, and he discovered things inside of me I didn’t know existed. A great teacher can make the difference.

I’ve devoted the last two decades to teaching people how to paint, and the result is that massive numbers of people have discovered their inner gifts, once someone like us showed them how to bring them out.

I now paint in most mediums (oil, watercolor, acrylic, gouache, pastel), and knowing what I know now, if I had to start over, I’d start with pastel. Why? Because my earlier start was confused by formulas and mixtures to make color and make it flow. I was intimidated by oils, smells, chemicals. But with pastel, you already know how to use it … it’s like a sophisticated crayon, with brilliant color. You don’t have to learn to mix chemicals or mix colors, you just learn by putting one color over another. And in most cases, you just choose the color you want. 

My annual Pastel Live online event has taught thousands to paint over each of the last few years. If you immerse yourself for 3 days (and 4 if you choose our optional Essentials Day for beginners or as a refresher), you can’t help but walk away knowing how to paint and feeling like you made huge progress. Then as you practice, knowing the principles learned from the 30 or so top masters teaching, you skip a lot of years of trying to figure it out on your own.

The event is coming September 18-20. If you cannot attend live, just know that you get replays with each signup that you can watch on your own schedule. Though the experience is best when you’re with us live.

Visit PastelLive.com

Sprinkles hit the ceiling of the old great room of the home built in 1850, as rain is tapping on the tin roof above my head. I sit here in silence as my eyes gaze around the room in awe of the craftsmanship of intertwined decorative slats, a massive stone fireplace, and a carved star mounted to the ceiling to designate where to find the North Star. 

Rich History

Worn red antique rugs cover the wooden floors. Kerosene lanterns are mounted to the walls, never removed when newfangled electricity was added. An old fringe-shaded Victorian lamp stands at attention in the corner by the diamond-paned windows, surrounded by furniture made from twigs, an antique chessboard, a stuffed hawk, and a scale model of a classic wooden boat. 

This old lake home and its contents have not changed much since the place was built, other than plumbing and electricity added. The long dining room that could seat 20 was once alive with the conversations of the six families who have lived here in the past 170 years and their guests, and it’s my desire to have multiple generations of my family carry on the tradition. 

In Search of the ‘Golden Pond’ Life

When my dad first discovered this lake after a search to find a place like the movie On Golden Pond, his goal was to keep his family here for generations, as many of the families on this lake have done. There is peace and rejuvenation and solace in the lake’s beauty, and in the sense of tradition. 

For me this place is more important than any on earth I’ve discovered so far. The air and water are pure and cleansing to the body and the mind. Three months here, even though I’m working, provides the battery recharge to be able to mentally take on any challenge in the coming year, especially in an election year with the fallout from whatever happens.

Let’s NOT Talk Politics

In case you haven’t noticed, I avoid politics like a root canal. I don’t like to talk about it, watch it, or be a part of it. If you’re thinking I’m about to make a statement about last week’s debates, the current situation, who I loathe or who I support, you’ll never hear that from me.

I don’t like politicians, but I’m grateful there are people willing to subject themselves to life under a microscope in service of their country. As I’ve stated before, I was offered a chance to run for U.S. Senate and turned it down because I can’t imagine a more horrible life.

Change Your Mind

Here’s the thing … no one can ever change your mind. Only you can change your mind, and that rarely comes from someone trying to convince you. Change comes only when you use your own brain, have an “aha moment,” and are willing to challenge your own possibly lifelong assumptions because you took the time to keep your mind open and to study for yourself. 

Me trying to use my platform to get you to vote for someone would be foolish. I need every reader or customer I have. Why would I irritate half of them by revealing my political stance? I guess I’m just not rich or famous enough to not care. 

Politicians Make Me Giggle

It makes me giggle when politicians try to pretend to be ordinary people who can relate to us. You know, “I used to work the coal mines before walking 10 miles to school in a blizzard, and then I’d work 15-hour days on weekends to earn money to support my mother and my 18 brothers and sisters.” I’m sure some really did have modest starts in life. But once they became elected officials at a high enough level, they became part of an elite class with privileges none of us can imagine. I’m sad to say that I tend to think most of those life stories are made up, designed to get us to relate to them. It doesn’t work. 

Welcome to Political Season

So as we enter this political season, when the media ramps up the rhetoric and tells you why one candidate is like Hitler and the other is perfect — all designed to get ratings up and keep you watching intently — I want to offer some advice. Oh, it’s not voting advice. I’ll continue to love you no matter how you vote. 

1. 1. Use your brain. Don’t trust anything anyone tells you. Find out for yourself.
   2. Avoid extremes. If people are making crazy statements about a candidate, ask why.
   3. Study the opposite point of view. I get fresh content from X (formerly Twitter) and can read up on the other side of the story. Don’t assume you know. There are smart people for and against any candidate. Find out why. Read their opinions. Don’t just go with the party line.
   4. Avoid “9 out of 10 say this” arguments. Just because someone is a scholar or an expert does not make them right. Nine out of 10 Harvard professors don’t have to worry about how to pay your rent.
   5. Don’t let them tug at your heartstrings. Politicians love to use children as pawns. You know, “kids in cages,” that kind of thing. Do you think anyone running our government would actually let that happen? 
   6. Ask yourself: What do they have to lose? Why are they trying so hard? Is it really about the future of the country? Or the future of their own power and position?
   7. Don’t get emotional. We’re easily controlled when we’re emotional. 
   8. Follow the money. Almost always, money is the motivation behind everything.
   9. Avoid peer pressure. Vote your heart. Don’t pick a candidate because your friends think they are cool. 

A Leader at the United Nations

I once met a very wise and powerful woman who knew every world leader of her time, including every living past president or national leader, because of her work in the UN. After a visit by the president of a major country, she was asked this one question: “Would you trust this man with your grandchildren’s lives?” Her answer: “Not for a moment.”  

Who would you trust with your family? Is your quick answer based on something someone else told you? Or something you learned on your own?

The Goal of the Media

I grew up working in the media. Most of the people I worked with would do anything for an extra rating point. I mean anything, even something illegal if they knew they wouldn’t get caught. The media’s sole job is to make you watch more, build the ratings, and get you into an emotional state so you’ll keep coming back for more. Watching just 15 minutes of any news broadcast can put you into a hypnotic state and keep you there for hours. The same is true for social media. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if everything wasn’t about party lines? Wouldn’t it be refreshing if someone said, “The other side is right this time”? But that rarely happens anymore. Things are overly polarized. 

Remember Independence Day

I’m not referring to last Thursday, I’m referring to the true meaning of independence. Preservation of our country is critical. No candidate will be perfect. Both will make terrible mistakes. No matter who wins, the media will love them and hate them at times, and they’ll tell you who to love and who to hate. Don’t let them do it. Use your brain.

Don’t Be a Pawn

I can’t watch or listen to anything right-wing or left-wing. I distrust most of what they tell me because they have an agenda that goes beyond driving ratings.There is not a single balanced TV network. I pay attention to a few people who seem to be reasonable and balanced and who are not on TV or radio, then draw my own conclusions. These people are hard to find, and sometimes they lose my trust. Keep an open mind and pray about it.

My Embarrassing Voting Record

I’ll go into a voting booth and lay down my vote, something we should all do so our voice is heard. But there are usually some people on the ballot for local or state positions that I’ve never heard of. I feel bad about that, because too often my votes are based on whose signs stood out the most or if they are a part of my party. Do I know their policies? I’m embarrassed to say I rarely do. We owe our communities and states more than a mere glance and a shoot-from-the-hip vote. These people are determining our taxes and our school policies and our policies regarding the state and the freedom of our communities. And just belonging to a party is no longer a reason to vote for someone; we’re seeing people on both sides betray their own party — for the right reasons, or for the wrong ones.

Take the privilege of voting seriously, as though your life depended on it. But don’t allow yourself to be manipulated. You’re bigger than that.

Eric Rhoads

PS: I walked a thin line here because my intent is to stimulate thought, not try to make you guess my political stance or preference. I will never try to influence you. I just hope more people will stop allowing themselves to be influenced (if that’s even possible).

My heart at the moment is to spend the rest of today on the dock, hoping the rain leaves and the sun comes out, so I can play the rest of the long weekend. 

Speaking of play… 

Pastel Live, the world’s largest online pastel conference, is taking place in September. If you want to learn to paint, pastel is the easiest medium. You don’t have to learn to mix color — like crayons, you lay down colors and get incredible, vibrant results. You can learn more at pastellive.com.

Realism Live is coming in November and Watercolor Live in January, and our new Acrylic Live in March. You can sign up for any of them now. 

After several days of open windows and fans blazing during hot, sleepless nights, this morning I’ve awakened to cool temperatures and a sunrise that’s a giant orange ball in the sky, reflecting into the cool blue waters.

Red squirrels are chattering, and as I sit sipping my coffee on the old screened porch overlooking the lake, songbirds are playing an orchestral suite accompanied by an occasional loon call. 

Whew

Finally, I’ve had a chance to relax. I’ve been on the go constantly since March, when I took a group of artists to Japan for almost two weeks, returned home, then off to a family funeral for a few days, then home again in time to host the Plein Air Convention in North Carolina, then home again briefly before a drive cross-country to the Adirondacks, where I hosted 91 painters for a week. That ended a week ago yesterday, and it’s taken me this long to finally get some rest. Even the Energizer Bunny occasionally needs to let its batteries run down. 

How Do You Recharge?

They say different personality types recharge their batteries in different ways. For me, typically, it’s being social and having lots of contact with others. My favorite events of the year are the conventions and retreats where I get one-on-one time with old and new friends.

Getting Personal

I also love the chance to just sit and chat, which admittedly is hard during my big convention because they tend to run me on an endless loop from place to place. But the retreats are entirely different. I can stand and talk with people for hours if I want, and I often do, whether it’s when we’re side by side painting, painting portraits or just sitting around at night, or during meals. This is when I learn everyone’s stories, their tragedies, about their families, and it’s when I hear all their great ideas. 

One woman approached me and said she came because her husband unexpectedly passed three years ago, and she could not stand being alone anymore. She decided she needed to force herself to step out and be around others. It was a giant risk on her part, but one met with lots of new friends and support. 

Later in the week, a young woman under 30, a PhD who is now a professor, told me she had been so lonely in college and had found it difficult to make friends, and that when she came to our event, she felt at home and connected with others.

I Found It

Two different women used the same exact words, telling me, “I’ve found my tribe.” One of them said, “I wasn’t looking for a tribe, and I didn’t even know I needed it, till I experienced it. Now they will be my tribe forever.”

Artist John MacDonald told me, “Though I love the painting and the beauty of the Adirondacks, I come here because I’ve made so many great friends. When you paint alone in a studio all day you rarely get a chance just to stand around and talk with friends.” I’m honored to call him friend. (There is a story about the event here).

A new team member I recently hired told me this … “I came to work for you because you were different from everyone else. You were building a tribe, giving back to the community, and doing creative and interesting things. I wanted to be part of it.”

I try very hard not to be prideful, but one of the things I’m most proud of is that we’ve managed to put so many people together to develop deep friendships, and our events and conventions are the gathering place for those relationships. 

I need a tribe. 

What Do You Need?

Not everyone needs a tribe, but many of us do. We want to find people with like interests, a place where we can be ourselves, be around people who understand us. Since most of my tribe is made up of artists, I joke that our families roll their eyes when we talk about new paint colors, but when we’re together, we can talk about paint around people who find that interesting.

Where is your tribe?

One of the reasons social media is such a success is that we can follow our friends and feel connected, but the downside is that we can very easily become disconnected. I watch my kids and their friends, who often would rather connect online or text even when they’re sitting next to one another. Getting them to be involved with others face-to-face is more of a challenge. They don’t even like to use the phone. They would rather text. 

My Newest Friend Group

Though I love my social media and spend far too much time on it, I want and need to feel connected, to be able to look people in the eyes and get to know their stories. This week I saw a sign in the small town of Saranac Lake, near me, that was promoting a live sketching group on Tuesday nights. I showed up, and it turned out I knew only one person there, but I met others who I loved hanging out with. I’ll be there every week if I can. And when I’m back in Texas, I’ll resume my weekly portrait sessions for the same reason. I’ve missed that.

I love apps like Meetup, where you can search your town and any interest and find a group. If you’re into Civil War reenactments, knitting, woodworking, photography, antique trucks, Lego, or dinosaur studies, you can find a group. And if you can’t find one, you can start one, and soon you’ll be surrounded by people with similar interests.

Pandemic Lazy

I admit that the Covid pandemic turned me into a homebody. I travel less, I go out less, and I stopped things like my portrait group, probably because I got lazy and content with being at home. But I need a tribe … and you might too.

At my painters’ retreats, I not only have a tribe of painters, I have a tribe of painters who are musicians, and we play music together all week in the evenings. I look forward to that all year. So much so that I’ve decided to find or create a tribe to play with local musicians once a week.

Like the woman said, “I did not know I needed it till I found it.”

Is it time you found or created your tribe?

Eric Rhoads

PS: Not only have we created tribes at our in-person events, but also at our online events. Because of my weekday YouTube Show (Art School Live), a tribe called the Dreamliners was formed because people loved interacting on the chat on my show and wanted to keep it going in case I stopped. And on our online events, tribes have formed.

We have a bunch of online events coming up this year and into 2025:

Pastel Live. 3 days of the world’s top pastel artists teaching online (with an optional 4th Essentials Day as a refresher or for beginners). September 18-20. 

Realism Live: 3 days of the world’s top realist artists teaching online (with an optional 4th Essentials Day as a refresher or for beginners). Teaching portraits, figures, still life, and landscape painting (all realistic). November 13-15.

Watercolor Live: 3 days of the world’s top watercolor artists teaching online (with an optional 4th Essentials Day as a refresher or for beginners). January 22-24, 2025.

NEW: Acrylic Live: 3 days of the world’s top acrylic artists teaching online (with an optional 4th Essentials Day as a refresher or for beginners). March 26-28, 2025.

If you think you want to learn to paint, but don’t think you have what it takes, try my free lessons called Paint by Note. 

The loons are calling out with their soothing cry as they float by on the calm, glass-like waters that reflect the brilliant pink sunrise and the tall pines surrounding the lake. Baby hummingbirds the size of quarters flit about, frolicking in the air and diving from the nest as they try to pass their flying test. 

I’m once again perched on my dock on a hidden lake, deep in the wilderness of the Adirondacks. My home here, built in 1848, is only accessible by boat, and hasn’t changed much since it was built. This is my happy place. Each day here is a gift, and I know summer will fly by fast, just like this year has. 

Road Trip

The drive from Texas was long, lots of sitting, and as the passenger, my three days of travel were filled with impromptu naps from high-carb fast food along the way. It’s cathartic. I didn’t work much other than an occasional e-mail. I never “just sit.” But I didn’t even try to be efficient with my time, like every other moment in my insanely busy life. But on this trip, I don’t even listen to audiobooks, I simply stare and think as America goes by from the passenger side of the car.

The Lure of Private Jets

Driving past some airport somewhere, I gazed longingly at some parked private jets, thinking for a moment what a joy it would be to skip airports and airlines and four-day drives to transport old dogs, and be able to just walk onto our own airplane with the dogs and arrive in a couple of hours. But that’s for busy billionaires, who, like it or not, are missing out on the random encounters with kind people in the breakfast rooms of roadside hotels and at gas stations across America. Driving is my chance to see and experience this great country between Texas and New York, seeing decrepit, falling barns off back roads,  crumbling industrial brick buildings in old cities, and thousands of beautiful working farms along the way. I would not trade it for anything. It’s good for my soul and renews my faith in America.

A Highway Island

As we got on a highway near the end of our trip, I noticed something strange. Off in the distance stood an old Civil War-era cemetery. Though I could barely see it, a few hundred feet away, it was overgrown, appeared to have no access road or entry, and had a highway built all around it. Most of the grave markers were short headstones barely keeping their heads above the weeds, but there were a dozen or so taller headstones, and a few towering monuments reaching for the sky. Yet nestled between a highway and farmland, the cemetery can’t be reached even to be mowed or maintained. 

“What’s the purpose?” I remember thinking. 

Even the tallest, most impressive monument in this lost cemetery is drawing no attention. The names are not visible, which I’m sure was not the intention of the families who funded these monuments. A couple of generations saw those names before the graveyard was eventually abandoned and a highway built around it. Though I could see the towering monuments as I passed by at 75 mph, I could not read the names. Someone worked hard and spent substantial money for their loved ones to stand out and be remembered. Of course they couldn’t have anticipated an interstate highway. Yet even if the monuments were accessible, would anyone read them or know who is buried there?  

A Monument to Himself?

I watched an old friend go through this. He came from a prominent, mega-wealthy billionaire family. When his parents died, he was obsessed with building a memorial that would stand out in a cemetery of other prominent people. I remember him spending over two years working with one of the best-known and hard-to-get architects of the time. I’m guessing he spent millions on this marble monument to his family (which he now occupies as well). He attacked the project like he attacked his business, doing everything right.

But who will see it? Will it matter once a couple of generations pass? Does it matter now?

Keeping Up with the Kardashians

I recently read that most of us will never be remembered beyond two generations. Imagine all that effort to become a Kardashian, working so hard at being famous, and realizing it won’t matter 75 years from now. Two generations from now won’t even be able to read their lifetime’s worth of Instagram posts. 

I remember my great-grandparents, but barely. I have fond memories of my parents and grandparents; I know many of their stories and family legends. But I know little about my great-grandparents, and I know nothing other than the names of a few generations before them.

From Fame to Unknown

Very few of us will ever be known beyond two generations — and that’s true even for most of the great movie stars, sports figures, authors, artists, and business celebrities. The other day I mentioned someone famous from my youth and my kids had to look on Wikipedia to know who it was, yet that person was a household name when I was a kid.

Here’s to the Outliers, the Rebels

The only people whose names survive longer than two or three generations are the outliers. Steve Jobs is likely to be remembered fondly, like Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, or Issac Newton, but I doubt if Apple’s Tim Cook will be remembered the same way, in spite of his genius as the new head of Apple. Hemingway is an outlier. Van Gogh and Vermeer … outliers.

I’ve stood at the graves of Vincent Van Gogh and his brother Theo in France. Neither was famous during his lifetime; both died as unknowns. They became famous due to the lifelong efforts of Theo Van Gogh’s widow, Vincent’s sister-in-law, who made Vincent famous 40 years after his death. He never even got to know how important his work would become.  

So if being remembered is unlikely, what should our legacy be?

I suspect that Van Gogh did not set out to be famous. Instead he set out to paint what was in his heart, in a style that moved him, in spite of the criticism he experienced. He painted for himself. He lived the way he wanted to live, as tragic as the story seems. 

If getting famous is your thing, I think you should go for it. Being famous opens a lot of doors and gets you invited to the best parties and gets you into the best restaurants. But if you want to be remembered forever, you need to be an outlier. That means you have to do something different, be innovative, and do something no one else has tried. 

But for the rest of us, our life purpose is different — different for each one of us. It’s less about long-term fame, and more about making a difference somehow. 

I used to wonder about my purpose. I always wanted to serve my God, and my family, but when I chased money, I discovered that it was an empty chase. It was not until I realized my purpose was helping others find their purpose that everything changed for me. I’ve never been more happy, knowing that I’ve potentially helped someone discover something in their life that made them happy. And I guarantee that two generations from now, no one will care.

But one way we can all live on is by the generations we influence. If I can help pull someone out of their bad circumstances and help them live a better, happier, more fulfilling life, then I’ve served my purpose. If they then go on and help others find what they found, they will impact future generations, who will impact future generations. Maybe your name won’t live on, but your ideas could touch families for generations to come. 

I’ve come to understand that legacy isn’t about being remembered, it’s about touching others, who then carry the torch forward to others, who eventually will do the same. Whith is why it’s important to teach, and train future generations, and to help people find a better life.

What is your plan?

Eric Rhoads

PS: A giant part of my mission is to put people together, to help them make lifelong friends, and to help them discover the joys of painting outdoors. Last night about 90 of us gathered for our opening dinner and orientation at my 13th annual Publisher’s Invitational Adirondack retreat. All of us are staying at Paul Smiths College of the Adirondacks, and we’ll paint together all day every day in some of the most stunning scenery in America. We sit up at night and play music, sing, and paint portraits, and we make deep, lasting friendships. We wish you were here. But since that’s not possible this year, there are still a handful of seats available for my fall retreat, called Fall Color Week, which is in Carmel-Monterey this fall. 

PS 2: Back at the turn of the century, when people would graduate from college, wealthy families sent their young men (mostly men at that time) on the Grand Tour before they started their careers. The idea was to help them become educated in life abroad, to broaden their horizons, and to expose them to the great artists and museums so they became more interesting people. 

The one place that was considered a “must” first stop on the Grand Tour was Venice, Italy, not only because of its rich culture and beautiful architecture, but because of its incredible art experiences. It was the one place every artist wanted to visit and paint, attracting virtually every important artist throughout history. And it was not only an attraction for artists, but also those who love and appreciate art.

Each year for 12 years now, I’ve hosted a fall Fine Art Trip along with Fine Art Connoisseur Editor Peter Trippi. These trips are legendary because of the impossible access we provide our guests, with private entry to museums, private homes, and artists’ studios. Our storied past runs deep with unheard-of private visits, alone inside the Hermitage or in the Sistine Chapel. Even the wealthiest people with the biggest Rolodexes could not arrange the kind of experiences we’ve been able to provide. 

This year we decided to focus on two important aspects of the Grand Tour: the hidden treasures and secrets of Venice, as well as those of Verona, which is rich with art experiences but barely known as an art treasure city. Once again, we’ll be opening doors, trading on deep relationships, and providing an unheard of experience in this region. It promises to be life-changing.

In the past we’ve opened up these trips to a sizable group. One trip required two buses to visit some of our treasures. But we’ve since realized that large crowds are a bar to intimate experiences. Therefore we’re limiting this group to 30 people, or 15 couples (though singles are welcome and encouraged).

We’re going this fall, and it will be a great opportunity to escape all the election drama that occurs every cycle, and yet we’ll be home in time to vote. You’ll experience treasures you did not know existed, and you’ll become the most interesting person at Christmas parties this year with stories of art others will not have experienced. At this stage we’re just opening things up, and we’re already 25% sold, and there are many “regulars” who tend to come but who have not yet signed up. If you’re at all interested, this would be a good time to visit www.finearttrip.com to explore. This is a very elegant trip where everything is of the finest quality, because it’s your Grand Tour.

I’m yawning. I’m groggy. It’s very early, the sun is not up, and the house is shaking from a thunderstorm overhead. I made my way out to the coffee machine, and here we are together this morning, warm cup in my hands, trying to wake up.  

When I was a child, I would sit in the garage with the door open, watching the rain and the thunderstorms. I felt safe inside, but I loved the sound of rain and storms. When I was a young adult, I used to dream of one day sitting on my porch with a tin roof, listening to the rain. Today, I’m sitting safely on that porch, watching the rain come in sheets, feeling the ground shake with the thunder, and listening to the pellets of water hitting the tin roof. Sheets of water are pouring down the hill toward the river in the gully. Yet I’m dry, safe, and happy as a clam. At least till I have to load up the car and head to the airport. 

Lightning Strike

One time I went to Tennessee to see my grandfather’s sister Aunt Maxine, who lived on a farm in Armathwaite. I sat in the front room of this tiny 1800s white Victorian house, looking out over the storm. “It’s too dangerous to sit on the porch,” I was told, because the lightning could be so bad. Though I still thought I’d rather be on the porch, I changed my mind when a bolt struck the giant hickory tree I was looking at. SLAM!!!! CRACK!!! It cracked so loudly — I’ve never heard such a noise. The light flashed so brightly my eyes were burning. I could feel the heat inside the house even though it was a cool summer night. The tree was split in half and then started smoking, though I don’t think it caught on fire. It was a good lesson in the force of nature. 

I was blessed with a great childhood, a great upbringing, and people who cared deeply. And I have wonderful memories, along with some moments I did not fully understand at the time.

Wear a Mental Helmet

“Be careful what you put inside your head,” my grandma used to tell me. “Once it’s there, it never goes away.” And I used to think she was wrong when she would suggest we not go to the movies, or listen to the radio to hear “the devil’s music,” because it was going to influence us. In fact, listening to that music may have played a role in pushing me to become a rock ’n’ roll DJ. I used to think what she was saying was utter nonsense, and I spent over a decade on the radio playing the hits.

Now I’m not going to rant about rock music, which I happen to love. I typically don’t rant about anything. But I have discovered that she was right about one thing … what enters your head never leaves. And with enough repetition, you might start becoming what you see or hear.

You Can’t Unsee Things

Last year at the Plein Air Convention a man asked what my daughter was studying at Baylor, and I mentioned her interest in psychology and forensics. He told me, “I did forensics at crime scenes, and I don’t recommend it. You can’t unsee the things I’ve seen, and they haunt me. They never leave you.” He said, “In that job you realize how much evil there really is. If I had my life to do over, I would not do that part. You really lose faith in mankind when you see the things I saw.”

My Love for Cowboys

I never really wanted to believe the narrative about what you put in your head, but I was really getting into the show Yellowstone. I loved it. I fantasized about being a cowboy. I bought some boots and a hat. And the more I watched it, the more I loved it. I wanted to visit the area, buy a ranch, and live the rest of my life on a horse. That is, until one day when I encountered a problem with someone, and my first instinct was to react violently. Fortunately, I caught myself before my reaction got me in trouble. And I started thinking, “That’s not me. I don’t ever react with violence.” But the more I started thinking about it, I realized that watching all the violence had played a role in my reaction. So I gave up the show cold turkey and never watched it again.

Maybe people will say that I’m weak if I’m that suggestible. I’m OK with that. 

Avoiding What I Don’t Want to Become

I’ve made the realization that the negative things and the positive things we input all play a role in our subconscious mind. Though I’ll sound old school, I even realize that if I watch movies where every other word is an F-bomb, I’ll catch myself almost using such language, even though I’ve made a commitment to myself not to swear. I don’t feel the need to stay current with the culture, so if I’m watching something that is heavily f-bombing, I’ll turn it off. The same is true with things that have lots of sexual scenes. I’ll turn it off because I want to be respectful to my commitment to my family and my wife. I know, sounds very old-fashioned. Right? 

What You Think About Matters

No matter what you imagine, there is a very strong likelihood your subconscious or unconscious mind could find a way to make it happen. For years I dreamed about the house with the tin roof and the big porch, and it eventually came true. I never set it as a goal, and I did not even consciously think about it when looking for a house, but I ended up with it somehow. Is there a possibility that where you see yourself is where you’ll end up? There are lots of scientific debates, and you can find people supporting both sides of the argument.

What Some Believe

According to author and speaker Vishen Lakhiani, the key to getting what you want, to controlling your outcomes, is a step-by-step process of entering a theta state (the state you’re in when you first awaken), looking upward at an imagined screen and seeing what you don’t want. For instance, seeing what you hate about your circumstances or situation. Then you switch to a middle “screen,” showing yourself taking action to find a solution, without thinking about what that solution might be. Then you switch to a screen to your far left (the position of the eyes matters, according to Lakhiani) and imagine yourself in the place or situation you want to be in, living the life. I don’t have any evidence that this is true, but I like to think it could be. 

Other “experts” have also suggested imagining yourself in the situation you’d like to be in. They say that telling yourself, “I’m gonna be a millionaire,” won’t work, but telling yourself, “I am a millionaire,” will work. It’s hard to know if any of this is right.

Here’s what I do know. What I think about, what I see myself doing, tends to come true. What I pray about tends to come true. The more specific my prayer, the more effective. As a result, I’m very intentional about what I’m thinking or praying about and what I need to avoid thinking about. What about you?

What has worked for you? What have you thought about so much that it came to pass?

What negative things have you imagined that came true?

Would they come true if you had not imagined them?

Scientists know if you’re speeding down the road at 70 mph and you tell yourself, “Don’t hit that tree!” you’re much more likely to hit the tree. So they suggest you tell yourself, “Go through that opening,” rather than, “Don’t hit that tree.” You have a better chance of survival. Where you focus matters.

Is there evidence? I’d love to see more science on what really happens. Others claim there is ample evidence. I’m still skeptical. But I do have anecdotal evidence from the small circle of people I surround myself with. The negative thinkers tend to get negative results. The positive thinkers tend to get positive results. 

One day I may look back and say it’s all hocus-pocus, but I don’t think so. It seems there is something to it. I don’t think it’s about luck, it’s about being deliberate. Being deliberate is a conscious decision, versus allowing things to float in and find a home. When I’m traveling to a meeting or event, I imagine a positive outcome, and things usually go as I imagine them. I often rehearse a meeting, imagining what they say and what I say, and I see things going well. 

I’d love to hear your thoughts and how positives or negatives have impacted your life and your relationships.

Eric Rhoads

For a year I’ve been envisioning the largest Plein Air Convention in history. And when I board the plane today, I’m going to imagine a successful convention with a lot of very happy customers who have had their lives changed for the better. I will think through every detail and imagine a positive outcome, including how my team will perform and how the faculty will perform. Will it happen? I expect it to. I’ll let you know. The convention starts tomorrow.

Soon after the convention I’ll be hosting 100 artists for my 12th annual artists’ retreat, the Publisher’s Invitational in the Adirondacks. I’m looking forward to seeing you there. I fully expect the last few available seats to be sold.

When Covid hit and we were flooded with cancellations, we reinvented and launched virtual art conferences online. When Covid was over, it would have been easy to tell myself they would soon fail, but I envisioned them being as strong as ever and even growing. The result was positive, and these online events have continued successfully after lockdowns ended. I think the expectation matters. The next online event is in September, Pastel Live, then Realism Live in November, and Watercolor Live in January.

Slam! Crunch! A 1950s-style ceramic bowl went crashing to the floor, spreading milk and Cheerios all over the red-and-white speckled linoleum. Suddenly laughter broke out.

It’s hard to know if I really recall my first memories, or if they come from family stories or old photos. My first memory of my mom has me sitting in a high chair as an infant, grabbing my bowl of cereal and putting it on my head like a hat. I can still remember my mom laughing. 

My second memory is of us standing in front of our house, me being held in my mom’s arms, and watching our garage burn to the ground. I can still feel Mom’s tears.

Life is about the dash. In my mom’s case, the dash came between 1927 and 2019. My mom passed five years ago this past week, on May 7. I miss her every day.

What you do with the dash is what matters.

The dash is all about moments and memories.

Last week, I attended the funeral of my Aunt Phyllis, my dad’s sister and my last aunt, and though it was somber, the memories that flooded back with the stories told by my cousins were priceless. She lived her dash well.

A friend, Richard Saul Wurman, the founder of the TED conferences, always says, “I live my life by the number of summers I have left.” Summers being a metaphor for those special times when we go out of our way to do special things.

He, too, is thinking about the dash.  Making sure the remaining summers are special.

More Funerals?

After the funeral, one of my cousins said… “We need to do this more often.” She did not mean a funeral, but having all her brothers and sisters and cousins and friends together. 

Family reunions serve an important purpose, but as families become more spread across a small world, reunions don’t come as frequently as when they are at the farm down the road. 

Oftentimes our parents are family glue. 

We gathered at my dad’s place every summer with most of the family. We showed up at his place at Christmas, and when we lived nearby, it was chicken dinner every Sunday night. All were invited.  

My dad learned that from his parents, who learned it from his grandparents. 

When the glue wears out, it can no longer hold a family together, and that responsibility falls on another family member. All too often I hear tragic stories of families no longer getting together. That’s been the case in our family since my dad passed. He would be heartbroken, as am I. But people have busy lives and live in faraway places.

The True Meaning?

I can’t answer all the questions about the meaning of life in this brief note, but as I look back on my own life, only a few work-related memories matter, and all of those are about the people I worked with or met, or an occasional business trip. 

But family memories, travel with friends and family, and time with friends or family are all that matter to me, other than my relationship with God. 

Put the Fun Back in Funerals

Funerals are the kick in the butt we need to realize that time is short and that if we’re not deliberate about a well-designed life, and going out of our way to create memories, we’ll one day look back and say… “I spent my life in my La-Z-Boy watching TV” — or surfing social media, or playing video games. That’s not life, that’s merely existence. 

Today, as we honor our moms, the best way to honor them is to keep family coming together and creating memories, and spending time with our moms if they are living. Being with family is what they would want.

Are you a pinball, or a car following a roadmap? Make a plan for the life you want to live, and make it happen. Only you can do it.

Eric Rhoads

PS: This is special for me today because we are expecting all three of our kids home to celebrate their mother, my bride, the love of my life. The thing we want most is that warm blanket of family around us, wishing it would last longer. This week is a double celebration — my wife and I will celebrate 27 years of marriage tomorrow. 

Once our moms leave us, Mother’s Day is hard, but the first one without her is the hardest. I just learned this will be the first motherless Mother’s Day for a friend who recently lost his mom. And it will be the first for my cousins. I feel your pain, your emptiness. Moms have always been there for us, and we don’t fully appreciate them till they are gone. Today, if you have your mom, give her a giant hug and just hold on and don’t let go. It’s a gift to both of you.

PS 2: The biggest event of my year starts on May 20 outside of Asheville, North Carolina, where we will hold our annual Plein Air Convention, a gathering of over 1,000 painters from all over the world. This is my other family. We all become very close, and this event is not just about learning and growing from top master artists, it’s our Thanksgiving, a chance to break bread and be with old and new friends. I don’t think there are any seats left, but if you go to the website, try joining the waitlist, something may have opened up. It would be fun to have you there.

Fields of trees filled with pink and white blossoms lined the walkways through Sakuragaoka Park, which is like Central Park for Tokyo. Massive crowds of people treated blossoming cherry trees like movie stars, flooding around to take photos and selfies. Women were wearing colorful spring kimonos; it’s a tradition around graduation time to be photographed with the legendary blossoms, and in some areas men too were dressed in traditional robes. It was like a scene out of a movie.

Unfortunately, the blossoms had not reached their peak, and our group of 35 artists hit them a little early, so the trees that were in blossom got more attention than those that were still bare. A return to the same park on our last day was a different story. Everything was in full bloom, and the scene was one of the most beautiful I have ever encountered. It was what I imagine a walk through heaven to be … walls of color against flowing streams and beautiful temples. 

Transformation

We went to see Japan to visit its temples, see its iconic sign-filled streets, and experience the colorful scenery, but we left transformed, and mesmerized by the culture.

Before going, everyone I met who had been there before said, “It’s indescribable, but I’d live there if I could.” It seemed odd to me, but now I understand.

I’ll not tell the story of our trip now (you can read it here), but I fell in love with the culture and the people.

But why? What was it that was so different from other beautiful places I’ve visited?

Big and Clean

The metropolitan area of Tokyo is home to 41 million people, larger than the population of the entire state of California, yet there are no visible social problems. Most big cities struggle with the sheer size of the population and are prone to chaos and filth. Yet during my visit, I did not see a single piece of trash, nor did I see a beggar or a homeless person. We ended up in some areas and neighborhoods one might think could be dangerous, yet not once did we feel unsafe. Though I suppose dangerous areas exist, I never saw evidence, even outside the tourism bubble.

Though I’ve not researched this, I’m told there is simply almost no crime. And that is rooted in how the Japanese raise their young, and in their immigration policies, which make it difficult and sometimes impossible for non-Japanese to move there. 

Trash-Free

The first thing I noticed is that there are no trash cans. We went to a local food market, filled with thousands of hungry people, yet when I had a paper plate left over, I walked up and down the street to find a trash can. There was none. When I asked, I learned that everyone is responsible for their own trash. You stick it in your pocket and take it home to throw it away. 

Though rooted in a 1995 incident when a terrorist hid a bomb in a trash can, resulting in a new policy on trash management, most of the cleanliness is based on societal responsibility. It would simply be rude to ask someone else to deal with your trash problem. 

What I loved most about Japan was its respectful culture. 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T 

I’m walking down the hall in my hotel when the maid at her cart stops, steps out, and fully bows to me. I in turn stopped and bowed to her. After picking something up in my room, when I encountered her a few minutes later, we both bowed again. And subsequently dozens of times over the course of our stay.

Everyone bows to everyone. Everyone is respectful to everyone, to the point that you actually look forward to encountering someone you can help.

And there is no tipping in Japan. The one time we attempted to tip someone for helping us in a difficult situation, that person refused to accept it.

P-R-E-C-I-S-I-O-N

Precision is another part of the culture. It’s not enough to put things away; the people focus on doing things properly. For instance, lining up all the shoes on the floor so they look perfect. If giving a gift (a major part of the culture), they are interested in the aesthetic of precision and beautiful wrapping. Every shelf in every store is pristine and perfect, and the package design of most products is done with excellence. People in our group were taking pictures of candy and cake boxes because they were so beautiful.

I’ve come to understand that Japan’s lack of crime or dirt comes from the idea of honoring others, feeling the need to be obligated and responsible to others, and going out of one’s way to be helpful. 

What if we were more like that?

What if we took more personal responsibility to go out of our way to help others? 

What if we showed our respect for others?

What if we made sure everything was pristine because we wanted to please others?

During part of our tour we visited the Holbein paint company factory where they make all their water-based products like watercolor, gouache, acrylic, and water-soluble oil paints. They took us through the entire factory, showed us how the paint was made, and even ran a line of paint for us to experience it firsthand. Not only was the experience eye-opening, the experience was about precision and cleanliness. In other factories I’ve visited I’ve seen rusty old machinery and trash on the floor, but at Holbein things were perfectly maintained, well painted, clean, and operated with perfection. 

Can You Say Kodawari?

Steve Jobs used to talk about a Japanese term that was about making things beautiful and perfect, inside and out, even the inside of the machine that no one ever sees.

I’ve since learned there is a concept called kodawari, which sums up Japanese culture. I found this definition online.

Kodawari ( こだわり in Japanese) means the pursuit of perfection. It is passion, persistence, commitment, and attention to detail. It is so beautiful because, once you have truly connected to it, one word can be a placeholder for an entire world view.

The key to kodawari is that it is personal in nature. It is partially rooted in pride, but not the petty kind. It is the kind of personal pride that you feel when you are alone and you know that you did your best. It comes from that deeper presence inside your head that watches you and knows when you are cutting corners. Whenever you ignore this discipline, you feel weaker, and when you engage with it, you feel stronger.

Such discipline is not rooted in some grandiose scheme to impress others or to achieve external validation. It is your personal standard, and it is how you foster self-respect. While you appreciate the beauty it creates along the way, you also realize that you never fully arrive anywhere. You can always be better. 

I’m sure there are lots of invisible problems or issues I did not see in Japan, but I love this idea of doing things well, being the best you can be …  just because. Knowing perfection isn’t possible, but striving for it in everything you do brings you closer to it.

I experienced this everywhere in Japan. Even public restrooms had automated electric heated toilet seats, and the stores had more variety and excellence than any stores I’ve ever experienced. 

From what I can tell, it starts with respect for others, which drives us to do the best possible for everyone we encounter. Not because they can do something for us, not because they are more important than we are, but because all humans deserve our respect and our best.

That’s why I encourage you to take a bow.

Eric Rhoads

PS: One my first day back doing my daily YouTube show, Art School Live, someone wrote in the comments, “You look 10 years younger.” I joked that I’d really slipped away for plastic surgery, but my more youthful look was rooted in getting away from stress and gaining a new perspective by visiting a new place. I recommend it.

At the end of our trip, I asked our attendees to tell me the best part, and everyone said it was the people they met on the trip and spent the time with. I love seeing people connecting and making friends through the things we offer. I agree that the people were the best part.

I love meeting new people and being thrown into a situation where we are together 12 hours a day for a week and a half. You can’t help but make friends. And I love when artists meet artists. I live to help others make these kinds of connections. The next chance to experience this is at our Plein Air Convention this May, which is down to less than 40 seats left.

My next international trip with a group is the Fine Art Connoisseur Behind the Scenes art collector trip this fall to Venice and Verona, but I’ve not yet decided where my next international painting trip will be.

Another place to get to know people is at Paint the Adirondacks (17 seats left), my spring painting retreat this June, and at Fall Color Week (27 seats left) this September.

You deserve to reward yourself with something to look forward to … a trip, a workshop, or an event!