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 My mother loved “pioneer” stories, told in books or movies. Characters of strength and courage took on the unknown, resourcefully maneuvering through difficulties, conquering the impossible. Through those stories she passed on to me a sense of adventure and wonderlust.  I continue to be affected by them even if I don’t remember specific titles or content. 

I relived favorite stories by reading them to my own children and found I could apply the story-wisdom to my adult life (I still wander around in Narnia every few years). I wonder if my mom experienced the same? I wish I had asked her what stories impacted her life the most.

Long ago I read The Berenstain Bears books to my kids. Every once in a while something wise from that charming series will rise to my conscious thinking and I will let it linger for a bit, savoring the simple life that seems far gone from today’s complex realities. In one of the stories the family decides to live without TV for a time. Papa Bear wonders what he will do without TV to tell him the weather. Mama Bear suggests looking out the window or stepping out the door. 

I decide to apply Mama Bear wisdom this morning as I plan my day: I look out the window. Frost sparkles in pink rays of early sunlight, covering grasses and rooftops with fairy-tale magic. I’m drawn outside by what I see. I don’t need the Weather Channel app to know that warm layers are required; if I look to see the temperature, I may give up the idea of a walk. 

 The loveliness of my sunrise amble changes who I am this morning. I am set free from the limitations set by technology for a few minutes, responding to my surroundings based on sensory input instead of information. This is a practice that I need to extend in order to bring balance to my life. What a difference it made to start my day by looking instead of knowing; who I have become in this moment of time?

I see it is the moments that make us— not necessarily the big events. Those moments spent listening, seeing, responding and being are what determine how the big events will modify us. The practice of making art has taught me to pay attention, to notice what is unfolding before me. Looking back over years of this practice I see a big picture, cumulative moments of life coming together to form a rendering of who I am. Moments spent immersed in pink-tinted morning light, or seeing Half Dome at eye level, or watching my world change from gray to spring green at the end of a long winter… Where I have immersed my attention has become who I am. 

I love books and movies, some social media content, art and music— all the ways we share ideas, concepts and values with each other. I want to learn from others, I am inspired by others. I need other people! We are all artists, altered by what we see, hear, and experience.  We have much to gain from kindreds of the ages. 

I have also become distracted by the thoughts of others. Distracted from my own core values and perspectives. There is a fine line between open-mindedness and distraction. I know it’s important to question, testing  sources before cementing beliefs. But I’m wandering into the world of philosophy; I want to stay focused on what I observe as an artist.

An art teacher once told me to paint truth and it will result in beauty. Painting truth requires careful looking, studying, and observing, training the eye to tell the brain what is really there. Our brains want to take over and interpret what we see in the most efficient way, but sometimes that efficiency separates details into overwhelming categories: trees, limbs, branches, twigs and leaves, bark. An artist sees these things and chooses only the details needed to express the moment, the big picture. Everything else can be clutter and distraction. An artist sees spaces, shapes, lines, textures, and colors. Truth without distraction. 

I have taken on the challenge of reading the Bible in one month and I hate to admit that I am already behind schedule. In order to make time for this, I have to turn to the audio form of “reading”. I listen while I paint or cook or clean the kitchen, hearing Biblical pioneer stories rather than studying subjects. I am a Bible student; I enjoy careful study. But this time through I am simply reading the drama, taking in the details but not “painting every leaf on the tree". That’s art talk for saying that I’m reading it all: genealogies, inheritances, tribal counts and so on, without getting stuck trying to absorb these details. 

The details are many and minute but I am able to see how they fit into principles and natural laws, mindsets and values. This collection of stories, poetry, prophecies and history tells me about God and about how people relate to Him. Like us, characters in the Bible chapters view God from the perspective of culture. They are constantly drawn away from Him by incorporating other gods into their practice of religion. Perhaps it happened moment by moment rather than by determined decision? 

 I have less time for other books, movies, social intrusion, or even music, but I am changed by what I do have: moments of possibility that I choose to fill with content. Moments that make up my life and shift its trajectory. I want to carefully consider what goes into each juncture for they are brushstrokes in the creation of an eternal self-portrait. 

It’s a new morning. I pull on a scarf, warm socks, and big coat with my jeans and sweatshirt in order to make the short walk up to my studio. I’ll  turn on the heater for an hour or so before staying there to work. I know it’s cold — so I don’t have to check my phone. Instead I’ll leave it inside following the lead of birdsong and glistening frost that would be unnoticed if I allowed the gods of this world invade my opportunity for a walk before work. I’ve just chosen the next few strokes in my portrait!