The crackle of burning embers fills the living room — that primal sound that’s comforted humans since we first tamed fire. Wood smoke mingles with the lingering scent of pine needles from the Christmas tree and leftover scented Christmas candles. Outside and across the backyard at my art studio, the porch by the outdoor fireplace has become our gathering place for holiday moments, including that magical night when old painting friends reunited — brushes in one hand, Christmas cookies in the other, a model to pose,15 years of weekly painting nights warming us as much as the flames.

The Box in the Garage

This weekend we’ll be boxing decorations, each ornament wrapped and boxes labeled, stored on sagging garage shelves until next year’s resurrection. Time to remove the wreaths, the four-foot toy soldier, and the Christmas lights. It’s the ritual of transition — the careful packing away of one season to make room for whatever comes next. And we are entering a new season.

But there’s another project that’s been haunting me that finally got attention this week. Thousands of photos finally made it from old hard drives to my phone/cloud. Still waiting: more years, more boxes, slides from the pre-digital era when every shot cost money and seemed to matter more.

My father spent his last decade scanning every photo he’d ever taken in his life. Organized them. Uploaded them. What a gift — his entire visual history, our childhood, his childhood, all searchable, all saved. Now that torch passes to me. First Christmas decorations come down, then the garage that’s been ignored for a decade, and then, if there’s time, attack the photos.

When Pixels Become Portals

Here’s what they don’t tell you about old photos: They’re time machines with faulty steering.

One minute you’re organizing files, the next you’re reminiscing over a friend who’s gone, or tearing up seeing your kids as babies, their faces round with possibility. Old photos are reminders of good times and tough times, yet those tough times don’t seem as bad now. Looking at photos is bittersweet, especially as two of the kids won’t be here after Christmas. 

My son Berkeley is moving five hours away for his dream job next week. Brady is already on his own and supporting himself. Grace will stick around as she’s starting a new job next week. Bittersweet because I remember when I became independent and never again lived at home, and I know those kids may not be here for any length of time again. The house grows quieter. We celebrate their launches while mourning the noise.

The Fat Kid Still Lives Here

Then came the photos I wasn’t ready for. Elementary school. That overweight kid with greasy hair and thick glasses who didn’t have the strength to climb the rope. The gym teacher who used my struggles for cheap laughs. The locker room towel snaps. The whispers, the snickers, the pointing, the bullying. I had not seen those photos for several decades, and the moment I did, the pain returned. I quickly realized that the very same pain is stuck in my subconscious mind, which speaks up to prevent more pain when making decisions.

It was an “aha moment” for me, an epiphany of sorts. Years of being mocked as the weak fat kid explains why I have to fight myself daily to work out, and why I tend to overeat. The mocking undermines my confidence in certain situations, quietly in the dark corners of my brain.

Decades later, when strangers laugh in a restaurant, my first instinct? They’re laughing at me. My adult brain knows better. My child brain doesn’t care about logic, which explains why some goals never get achieved — because my self-esteem in some areas is rotten from my first 10 or 12 years.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Author and hypnotist Jim Curtis explained it perfectly on Lewis Howes’ podcast last week: Our self-talk programs our subconscious mind, which drives 85% of our decisions. Those childhood experiences become our “I am” statements:

“I am fat.”
“I am not athletic.”
“I am the one they mock.”

Curious, I looked it up, and research from Stanford’s Carol Dweck backs this up — our mindset literally shapes our reality. Neuroscientist Dr. Joe Dispenza’s brain scan research shows how repeated thoughts create neural highways that become our default patterns. Negative thoughts and negative talk actually impact your outcomes.

My buddy Chris used to mock my positive mindset. “Be careful what you say,” I’d warn him when he’d complain about work killing him. “Your subconscious is listening.”

Turns out, it really is.

The “But” That Breaks Dreams

This week — this quiet week between Christmas and New Year’s — might be your most important of 2025. Because right now, you’re considering setting some goals or making New Year’s resolutions.

But here’s the trap: State any goal out loud. Listen quietly to what your brain says immediately after.

“I want to double my income … but I’m not smart enough.”
“I want to get in shape … but I’ve never been athletic.”
“I want to write that book … but who would read it?”
“I want to meet Elon Musk … but why would he care to hear anything I have to say?”
“I want to be successful enough to own my own jet … but I’ll never be rich enough.”

Those “buts” are assassins. They murder dreams before they draw their first breath.

The research states that you need to place yourself in your “I am” statements even if you don’t believe them. “I am a world-class artist.” “I am the president of my company.” “I am the owner of a Gulfstream jet.”

Rewriting the Operating System

We’ve all heard all the stuff about goal-setting, but the goal is only part of the story. There’s more that’s required. We need a strong reason why we want it. We need a deadline. We need to understand what we face so we know how to overcome those things, and we must absolutely reprogram those “but” comments that float into our consciousness when we set a goal.

It looks like this:

Goal: What you want
Purpose: Why it matters to you (make this huge)
Deadline: Exactly when it needs to be done (not “someday”)
Roadblocks: External obstacles to overcome
Beliefs: The internal saboteurs

That last one — that’s where the real work lives.

Because that overweight kid who couldn’t climb the rope? He was traumatized at 12. But why is a grown man still letting a 12-year-old’s pain run his life? He doesn’t have to, yet most of us are carrying far too much PERCEIVED trauma from our past.

The Paradox of Comfort in Pain

Here’s the sick psychology of it: Sometimes we stay broken because broken feels safe. I just learned that psychologists call it “repetition compulsion” — we recreate our wounds because familiar pain feels safer than unfamiliar healing. A misbehaving child gets more attention by misbehaving, and somehow, it feels comforting, even though he or she hates it.

But awareness is the first step toward rewiring.

What Matters Now

What are you still carrying from your childhood self that your adult self needs to release?

If, like me, you spent years with unrealized goals, it’s important to listen carefully to those voices in your head when you write down your goals and dreams. Take note, then work to reprogram and overcome those thoughts by trying to figure out what drove them in the first place. Then work to retrain your subconscious with rational adult thoughts instead of irrational childhood thoughts.

Unexamined beliefs are prison bars we build ourselves, and most of us don’t even realize we’re holding the key and have the ability to reprogram our past.

You probably have a little more time this week. What if you used it for self-examination? What are the old wounds that never healed? How are those wounds getting in the way of living your fullest life?

Here’s to burning what needs burning, keeping what needs keeping, reprogramming what needs to be changed, and knowing the difference.

Happy New Year.

Eric Rhoads

P.S. These three things would be a great start if you’re feeling undeserving or unqualified:
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December 31 deadline is approaching for Winter Art Escape — a week in Hilton Head and Savannah, painting beside others, making friends who understand why we chase light and shadow. Details at winterartescape.com. 
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January brings Watercolor Live — three days online with masters like Thomas Schaller, Shelley Prior, and Antonio Masi — 24 in total, teaching their secrets online. Whether you’re starting fresh or refining skills, this is your chance. Register at watercolorlive.com. 

​​May’s Plein Air Convention in the Ozarks — 1,200 artists, 80+ instructors, the world’s largest gathering of outdoor painters. Where else can you learn from and paint with dozens of top masters in one week? Lock in the lowest rates at pleinairconvention.com.