Emotional Musculature . . .

I just moved into a new studio. By Dec. 31st I was moved out of my former studio without plans going forward, and now, just one month later I’m moved into another. That was fast. I had thought I would be taking some time to transition all the emotional content related to leaving a place where I had worked for so many years. I thought I would be grieving, re-evaluating my work and offer to the world. I thought this would take some time, and was prepared for months of reflection. I did pull back in the first half of January, and it was enough. At the end of December I couldn’t have predicted what is now a reality . . .

I couldn’t have foreseen that a couple of trips up to the Canadian border and a few conversations would net me a studio in Loomis Hall in Blaine WA. I moved in on Feb. 1st, just in time for an all building show this Friday on Feb. 5th. The show is featuring small and large sculpture as well as the varied creative work of visiting and resident artists of many disciplines. I’ve hung my art in my studio space, and sit here dazzled by the effortlessness of it all.

I’m not suggesting that I haven’t made an effort. I responded to a invitation, had conversations, made several trips 20 miles north of my hometown to get a feel for the place, met some of the other resident artists, and in general, gave it my consideration and attention. I did put effort into this possibility . . . so how is it that it ‘feels’ effortless?

To answer this question I think I have to back up just a bit and look into my relationship with struggle . . . my human striving and suffering. I cut my baby teeth on a healthy dose of that. I suspect that decades later, having lived my life committed to my healing and development of consciousness, suffering is simply more familiar. I’ve faced into life with well developed behavioral muscles attuned to struggle. If I pause and really think about it, I’m surrounded by evidence to the contrary--that life has been a generous benefactor on my behalf. I think I need to re-align my emotional musculature. How do I do that?

Perhaps it’s about noticing, like I’m doing right now, more than anything else. Noticing that . . . an email showed up at just the right time to make me aware of Loomis Hall . . . one of two available studios was just the right configuration for my large canvasses . . . I fell into easy conversation with the gallery director . . . the collaborative effort of like-minded artists that exists there is exactly what I had been trying to create in my former studio . . . the pieces I picked out to hang fit the space beautifully . . . and, every time I go there I feel more and more at home . . .

What if re-aligning my emotional musculature is a matter of where I put my attention? I think I’m really talking about living with conscious ease. Maybe I can focus my attention without labeling or evaluating the effort. There is the very real possibility that my lifelong relationship to striving and suffering is less necessary than before . . . That I can join my efforts with an energy waiting to manifest, and together, seemingly effortlessly paint the canvas of my life . . .

That’s what this artist is thinking about today . . .