Bigger

©Robin Edmundson, 'Tetrad Floral', watercolor, 24 x 18 inches. 
Unframed.  $600.

For much of my life I have tried to live under the radar.  It was safer that way.

There were a lot of rules:

• Don't show off
• Shine, but not too brightly
• Be great at what you do, but not the best
• Let men be the leaders and always defer to what they say
• Smaller is better [translation:  Lose weight, lots of weight]
• Invisible is good
• Never ask for attention
• Don't be proud of what you do
• Big work = Big [very visible] mistakes. Work small so your mistakes are small

These rules are all shame-based and for 50 years, I was really, really good at shame.  I'm breaking a lot of these rules lately. 

I don't want you to think that I just woke up one morning and said 'Screw the rules!' and made some changes. Confronting a lifetime of shame and changing how you think [about everything!] takes a lot of courage. A lot of time. A lot of patience.  A lot of great teachers.  And a lot of baby steps.

One of these baby steps was to decide to paint bigger.  Risk bigger, visible failures. So, I bought a few blocks of larger paper so I can work in an 18 x 24 inch format, which I have found that I love.  I've been trying new subjects [more florals] and I've been playing big.  And making big mistakes.  And I don't care [as much as I used to. :)]  The painting above is one of my new, larger pieces.  It started as a color experiment while I was teaching a Color Harmonies class here at my studio.  At one point, I 'ruined' it but I kept working on it.  It was so freeing to work on that lovely big paper! Bonus - I think I'm doing better work.

Working bigger is helping me to take the next step in my healing process.  Working bigger lets me see that I can, maybe someday, live bigger and heal bigger.   

That's big.  

Tending the Fire

Once in a long while,  I have to just sit down and pay attention to something without doing much else that engages my brain.

Tending a brush burn is one of those.   I have to be with the fire in the field, but I only add wood a few times an hour.  The rest of the time I just have to sit. Or stand.  Always with an eye on the breeze and floating ash.  Eventually the pile of wood is gone and I get to spend a few more hours just watching it burn down until nothing but embers is left and we can douse it.  It's a lot of time for my brain to wander.

I have a busy brain.   It reminds me of all the things I want to do but haven't.  Or need to do but haven't.  It reminds me of things I did wrong or could have done better. The things that I tried that didn't work out.  The time I wasted doing it.  It pulls up uncomfortable feelings about things that have happened and tells me that if I'm uncomfortable, then I must have done something wrong and so I should fix it. Then it goes round and round trying to find a way that I could have done things differently.  If I remind it that it's too late to change anything, it invites shame and guilt over for a play date. If it comes to the conclusion that the problem lay with someone else's choices, then it goes round and round and round to make sure, searching and searching for the mistake that I must have made.  It compares me with my favorite people - pointing out all the ways I am not like them.  It tells me I am stupid.  Lazy.  Unattractive.  Repulsive. A failure.  It tells me that there is no way I'm going to accomplish the goals I have and that the goals I've already achieved don't mean that much.

It will go on as long as I let it.

This is the main reason I work so hard and multi-task so relentlessly.  Working and juggling multiple tasks are my coping mechanism for giving my brain something else to think about besides telling me how rotten I am. 

It's a very effective strategy.  Except for the burnout.  Also the reluctance to make lasting relationships [with awesome people who I'm not at all like].  Also the reluctance to go out socially [great situations in which to make lots of mistakes].   And don't forget the depression and anxiety. 

So basically, what  I have finally acknowledged is that my tried and true methods for coping with my busy brain have some pretty nasty side effects. 

This year I spent some serious time and study finding new ways to think so that my brain isn't always beating me up.  I read some great books.  My favorites were Rick Hanson's Hardwiring Happiness,  George Pratt & Peter Lambrou's Code to Joy,  and Danielle La Porte's The Desire Map.    Each one gave me a new way of thinking about why my brain does what it does, how to teach it new habits and how to choose a life based on feeling good. 

So last weekend, when I was sitting, tending the fire for hours and hours and hours, I found things for my brain to do other than beat me up.  I spent a lot of time expressing my inner music instead.

With time and the right care, healing happens.

How does your brain treat you when you have nothing to do but tend the fire?