Blog

Christmas generously gave us a bit of white this year. It started Christmas Eve, in the afternoon, while we were on a walk in the woods. Little smatters of snow turned into real snowflakes that remained on the ground as the trail began sending us down toward the winding edge of a river. By the time we reached the river, our path was whitewashed with a delicate layer of snow, which brought out my Narnia-influenced awe, transforming the walk into a magical quest. 

 

The trail eventually began its gentle climb to the upper meadows. Ahead I could see a place where it forked left and right, allowing the follower to choose between two routes, each way emphasized by a dusting of white. The sight instantly brought Robert Frost to mind, his road-less-traveled poem pulled from the archives of my fifth grade subjects. Even though I couldn’t remember the words, I contemplated the gist of it as we continued our hike on the longer, more challenging path. I planned to read the poem once again when we got home.

 

I’ve lived most of my life on the road less traveled. An artist is always looking for an original way to say something, to express ideas, or to reach an end; this quest for originality often spills over from artwork into life itself. Creativity doesn’t always make things easier. Sometimes I feel lost or maybe even left out. Most certainly insecure. But for me, to live creatively is profound and necessary.

 

I am beginning the new year in the midst of a self-imposed identity crisis at 60+ years of age. I retired from purposeful work in order to go deeper with God. He has allowed me to see as one who creates so I've come to understand the process of creating. Now I want to see what He has in mind, without my striving, demanding, accomplishing, pushing or pulling. I’m taking the road of rest, less-traveled by human nature.

 

Resting in God is actually really hard! I am focusing on deeper study of His Word through reading thought-provoking authors and the ARISE Bible school. I am practicing my art everyday, writing every week, learning to give voice to what I’m discovering. This learning-life takes place in the confines of my small home. For all of us, minimal interaction with people is challenging, whether it’s brought by social distancing or chosen lifestyle. My human nature screams at times, demanding more affirmation and recognition. But I’ve learned that self-focus does not reward the seeker; its appetite is insatiable, never satisfied, always insistent for more. The Kingdom of God is strange to the world of self-satisfaction; dying to self, self-denial, giving away, turning the other cheek and taking up your cross just don’t sound logical!

 

It’s the road less traveled. 

 

And it makes all the difference.

 

 

 

The Road Not Taken

 By Robert Frost

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


A couple of months ago a friend invited me to join her in a private Pilates session. Not the typical health club nod to Pilates, but the real thing, in a Pilates studio with a certified instructor. I didn’t know that this made a difference in the Pilates experience but I should not have been surprised to find that it does!

 

I had tried Pilates years ago: a large group mat class taught by a trained instructor who was also disciplined in yoga, marathon running, weight lifting and aerobic dance. In other words, she was a spectacular athlete. I participated in the six-week course, drawing from my own pretty impressive determination and discipline. I threw myself into accomplishing any of the tasks she directed us to do, clenching my jaw resolutely.

 

And the result? I hated it. I found Pilates to be frustrating and boring, rehearsing tiny moves while trying to remember which muscles were suppose to tighten, keeping other muscles “soft” while adapting to the pace of the class. My perception was: way too much thinking, not enough working out. I didn’t even make it through the full six weeks of lessons. That was nearly twenty years ago and I have not tried Pilates as a fitness routine since.

 

Now I find myself at a Pilates studio for an hour-long “duet” session with my friend and her instructor. We begin slowly, focusing on one or two muscle groups, learning to picture and then control small movements. The tortoise-paced hour actually flies by and I leave feeling energized and relaxed at the same time. I have to try this again!

 

I called the studio the next day and invested in six private sessions. With one-on-one instruction, I learned principles behind the Pilates movements. My instructor wisely helped me to see that small, unused muscles have been bullied out of commission by the larger commonly used muscles and I am out of balance! After a few sessions I’ve gained stability deep in my core and as a result I am experiencing improved posture and movement. Over-all strength is coming with practice; I now work out with a small group once a week and other days by myself at home.  

 

Pilates is changing the way I see fitness.  It starts with a strong center to be in balance and prevent injuries. I have to pay attention to the smaller, deeper areas in my core, making sure that I move from the center of my body rather than relying on bulkier arm and leg muscles.

 

This new practice of Pilates recently intersected with my on-going exploration of the power of living with less. Several days ago I become aware of God’s gentle nudge to adjust my attention to the core of my mind. There are deep deposits of holy thought that have been muffled by the pandemonium of social media, and other daily news. I want to hear those thoughts. I want to mine the riches of God’s Word and rejoice in awareness of His good company. It’s time to get rid of some soul clutter.

 

I’m clearing a path in my mind, starting with setting Instagram and Facebook aside for now. I’ve been influenced to do this by Helen Redfern, a writer-mentor I recently heard interviewed on the podcast Creatively Human with Ruth Poundwhite. Writing about her break with Instagram, Helen shares the following in her blog:

 

But what started out as something I had to do for the sake of my mental health has actually created a positive side effect. Not having my phone to distract me I started writing. Not only was I writing but I was properly concentrating on it and - all of a sudden - I have a second draft of my book proposal ready for the red editing pen. Which got me thinking just how much has Instagram Stories interrupted my writing flow? How much has it affected my productivity? Yes, Instagram has given me a community to chat to which has been invaluable. But was I kidding myself when I was on there so much: taking photos, recording time lapses, writing captions. Telling myself it was work when, in reality, it was taking me away from my real work. My core work. 

 

 Helen’s talking Pilates language here, speaking truth I want to consider. Is social media taking me away from my real work, my core work? What could I be doing with the time that dissipates into my phone?

 

 I want to explore what the gift of time has to offer.

I’d like to share my findings with you.


I plan to continue to blog about walking with God,

the tracery of Grace,

and the way life illustrates what we need to know to grow.

I’ll continue to put a link to the blog on social media.

 

I also  have a Newsletter

which focuses on lessons learned from making art

and updates about my work.

You can sign up for the newsletter on the front page of my website.

 

Let me know how you strengthen your mind core!