December 30, 2010

Simple Fulfillment

I believe that the ultimate measure of a good life, when looking back at it from that inevitable white-lighted, supine position, harps faintly playing in the distance - or, in my case, 80's Madonna - will be if one can say they have lived happily and without regret.  As we round the corner into Twenty-Eleven, I am using these twilight hours of our current year to spot check that I am on par with this goal.  I mean, I am fairly certain I have plenty of time left in this world, but you never know what life will throw at you.  And I will want to be prepared.

When you think about it, living happily is simply about being fulfilled.  However, as you and I both know, humans are not simple beings and our cerebral path to living in a fulfilled way is not always very clear.  We possess intelligence and are evolved (or at least that's what THEY want us to believe) yet somehow we still ended up being complicated.   But if you pay close attention to the very moment you are wonderfully consumed with the transcendent feeling of enlightenment, when the body, mind, and spirit truly come together and, like a universal zeitgeist, the world suddenly makes sense - you know you have achieved the powerful and almighty FULFILLMENT. 

You know what I mean?  Yeah, neither do I. 

A bazillion years ago when I was in architecture school, a very well known and respected instructor gave an assignment to my classmates and me.  He challenged us to make a list of the rooms we envisioned in our dream house.  Several minutes later with lists complete, we each eagerly read aloud our carefully constructed catalogs of finely decorated parlors and music rooms, exotic plant arboretums, well-appointed chef's kitchens, duplicitous bathrooms and guest quarters, frescoed-ceiling indoor swimming pools - all the vast and luxurious amenities that a budding architect would deem worthy of "dream house" by definition.

Our instructor's list, in contrast, was much more simple.  He read his short list to us:  A place to sleep, a place to cook, a place to entertain, and a place to read.  (Note: some fact-checking might prove this list to tweak slightly, but you get the picture.)  There was silence in the room as each of us students cowered our heads in shame for requiring so much over-achieving opulence. 

In my year-end spot checking, using my former instructor's spare thinking, I have created an abbreviated list of things that have given me fulfillment this past year.  When I boil it down, it really is quite short:

love
laughter
finding artistic inspiration
having space to paint and draw
a healthy family
a full rack o' wine

Call me less evolved if you must (Sticks and Stones....), but this simple list is the root of my happiness.  Air in my lungs is a necessity too, but I'll put that on next year's list.

In closing, my wish for you this coming new year is for a happy and healthy Twenty-Eleven, lived without regrets and replete with enough wine and creative fulfillment to really shake things up.

December 17, 2010

Turning Wine Into Chalk

It all started with wine one night, as most things do in this life I call mine. A night not unlike other nights that can be either enlightening or get me into trouble. Mercifully, this particular thought struck me during moments of the former. Though, I am now scratching my head to question: "What's so bad about getting into trouble?"

But I am getting ahead of myself....

I surmise several possible reasons that you are here. It is because you know me well (and the trouble that has been known to find me); you know me very, very well and are nervous I may mention herein the trouble we've gotten in together; you know someone who has spent time getting into trouble with me; or perhaps you've stumbled here, maybe by way of some wine-induced googlefest using my name. In this case, dear stranger, I hope you bought something from my Amazon wish list in the process.* All of the above, by the way, are acceptable reasons to be here. If you end up liking it, tell your friends to pay a visit.

Looking at some of the very first posts by some brave, pioneering bloggers, I notice words like "scary" and "terrifying" to describe starting their blogs, but observing the vast number of blogs in existence, there undoubtedly remains a myriad of compelling reasons to do so. The idea of a new project often begins as a noble feat, fraught with both fear and excitement, but the most difficult part of doing anything, for me anyway, is STARTING it. It always seems like it's a monumental leap - of faith, of taking action, of doing, and all while hoping to achieve a modicum of success.

But since when did everything have to be so "successful", anyway? When we were kids using legos to build castles or finger painting with egg tempera on newspaper (you know who you are out there), everything turned out to be a masterpiece to behold, resulting from very little emperical skill. Feeling confident in our squirrelly, swirling pet portraits and smoking-chimney backyard landscapes, some of us even took to the sidewalks, where gorgeous chalk-drawn wonderlands of imagination sprawled out in front of our houses, causing all passers-by to step aside to admire. Someone looking on may have wondered how this concrete canvas could be so beautiful or perhaps ponder where pastel green chalk really comes from. The mind reels. Something I do know for certain: They were drawn with the unbridled enthusiasm, excitement, and passion of childhood with unfettered courage and complete abandon. There. I said it.

Chalk is permeable, translatable, but also, gloriously impermanent. Drawing in Chalk represents the type of abandon in which we could take a lesson in fearlessness from. Insert "Art as Metaphor for life" here _____________. So, here's me, reverting to my chalk-drawing-on-sidewalk self - the one in my fantasy childhood where my Mom lets me drink a glass of wine while doing it.

I suppose, fantasies aside, being an adult does have its priveleges.


* Though it would be appreciated, this is not necessary to continue reading. However, you will be required to leave only positive feedback.