what are your "nevers"?

“My hands hold safely to my dreams
Clutching tightly not one has fallen
So many years I've shaped each one
Reflecting my heart showing who I am”

--Barlow Girl “Surrender”

Yesterday I wrote about being alive and inside that post were many questions about what holds me back. This morning as I awakened really early I could feel the promptings of the still small voice. I lay in bed with images of art and activities pouring through my mind. Finally I surrendered to the morning and got out of my cozy bed even though it was still pitch dark outside. I gathered my journal and tiptoed downstairs so as not to wake my sleeping husband and then I began to write. The lists of the day tumbled onto the paper mixed in with all of those questions of why I hold back when it comes to art—to MY art.

I have great plans. I have books to help me, supplies to use, ideas in abundance, but still I wait. “It will be a waste of time.. money…effort.” And then there is the flip side of the story. I am impatient. I want to hurry the process…to get to the end result and not let the art create me. Yikes! Sometimes I feel like such a mess!!

And so, I wrote and wrestled and this little voice kept saying, “Go paste the page onto the board.” (Several weeks ago I bought new supplies for creating and have tentatively been considering working with them. The board has been painted in a couple of colors and a few days ago I started considering adding text.) In the midst of all of my wrestling was another train of thought to “practice saying yes”--a theme I have been enjoying in Patti Digh’s new book. So, even while I am writing about “saying yes” I am ignoring the prompts to “paste the text on the board”. I am saying “no” to my art—again! And then God in all of her creative graciousness prompted me a little more directly—my pen ran out of ink—my last words being, “Go paste the page…” ☺

Now God gets even pushier here. I went to the book that I have designated as my “practice” pages (i.e. I can tear it up with great abandon.) It is a really heady book (not), called “The Devil in the Junior League.” ☺ I recalled it contained a few lists and since lists seem to be a theme for me these days I hopped right on it. Not paying much regard to the list content, I tore out a page and then pared it down to a manageable size and began to apply acrylic medium. When I flipped it over to paste the back, this is what I found:

“Unwilling to share any of that, I launched into the points that my mother and the charming women at Little Miss Debutante had drummed into my head, otherwise known as the Four Nevers:

1. Never dominate a conversation.
2. Never speak in a voice that can be heard more than three feet away.
3. Never do anything that anyone would notice if they were more than three feet away.
4. Never boast of your accomplishments.”

It might as well have included one more that said, “NEVER MAKE ART!” It was like all of the voices of my past (and evidently present) were rolled into one and printed on that page that I had chosen “by accident.” And so, after a few deep breaths, a couple of tears and a good laugh with God, I tiptoed back upstairs to get my computer so I could record this little encounter (and capture the words of “the page”, because you never know what may happen next with that little piece of art.)

And, the promptings did not end there, of course!! My computer screensaver is a nifty little thing that randomly displays album covers from my i-tunes list. I noticed a cover by Barlow Girl and wondered what music she sings. (I have lots of music given to me and rarely do I remember artists or song titles unlike my dear husband who can recall every song he has heard since 1960 ☺.) So, I found Barlow Girl’s one song I own and it, of course, is titled “Surrender.” Need I say more?

I would love to hear your response to my morning’s events or even better your own encounters and wrestlings with the inner critic, God, art, whatever! Or maybe you would like to share your personal “Four Nevers?” I hope you will say, "Yes!"

photos from pere lachaise cemetary--paris, 2.08