August 25, 2015 – It all works out in the end

I worked my way through the hydrangea last night – on to the rose! I need to finish soon!

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I subscribe to a magazine called “The Intelligent Optimist.” It’s filled with all kinds of good news, that fuels my hope for the future of the planet and humanity. They are not just heartwarming human interest stories, but innovations and shifts in consciousness, that foretell a bright future for us all. Most other “news” is filled with examples of how the shadow is alive and well, and at work in our midst. I’m such a sponge, and susceptible to soaking up all that is around me. Even if I work to avoid it, it’s there anyway – the newspaper shows up every morning and I see headlines. This makes it vital to my life and capacity to do what I do, and even be who I am, that I balance all of that with another point of view.

With my latest renewal came a gift of a skinny little paperback, called “The Intelligent Optimist’s Guide to Life.” It’s been sitting around all summer niggling me to read it. In the past week, I’ve been feeling like my nervous system is hyperventilating with all the – amazingly wonderful – things going on in my life – Paris planning, two group art shows and a reception, the upcoming Sausalito Art Festival, ongoing teaching (the biggest Saturday class yet was this past weekend), working on my own paintings and then the rest of my life! I’ve been having a hard time sleeping deeply, with all the details that have been buzzing in my head, and all the time on the computer doing email. I decided I needed an intervention and picked up the book.

The author (the magazine’s publisher, Jurriaan Kamp) starts by citing the beginning of M. Scott Peck’s book “The Road Less Travelled:” Life is difficult. And only when we fully accept this, such that where we start is from that place of acceptance of life’s difficulty, that life becomes no longer difficult. Optimism starting from this place is another breed – so not Pollyanna. Like what I shared last week, about feeling trivialized by being so “sweet” I’ve felt trivialized by being such an optimist. Like being an optimist means not being a realist. So I fuel myself with the reality as reported in this magazine and this book. I’m compelled to share with you some of what I’m learning. Did you know that…?

• We live in the most peaceful era ever – humans are killing each other, as a percentage of population, in far lower numbers than ever – and are on a downward trend. Really. Human life is becoming more valued.
• Overpopulation is a myth – I was blown away by this: if we lived in families of 4 in a house on a 1/10th of an acre, all 7 billion of us could fit within the state of Texas. We’d need another state of Texas to work and move around, but then the rest of the land on the planet could be used for growing food and wild lands.
• We can feed everyone too – because of better technology, agricultural yields per acre are increasing and we are actually taking land out of farm production because of it. GMO’s are not needed for this to happen either. And we need to stop wasting food. We produce enough food; it needs to be better distributed.
• Natural resources are still abundant – we are getting better at how we use them, and re-use them – and we are constantly innovating. There will be technologies in the future that we can’t even imagine now. In 1973 the Saudi Arabian oil minister said “The Stone Age did not end for lack of stone and The Oil Age will end before we run out of oil.” There’s a hopeful thought from 40 years ago!

We can see all of this only by taking the long, historical view. Yes, there are challenges before us, and still much work to do on each of these fronts. But there have always been challenges – life is difficult! It seems the whole point, in a way. My friend Vicki told me yesterday of someone she knew, who happily went off to work looking for problems to solve.

It’s so often reported, the terrible cost of human impact on the planet – and fears that life could get really hard for people in the future because of it. But what about all the beauty that we’ve created? What about music, and art (!) and all the ways our souls express and touch other souls? And the way we understand the cosmos, and can contemplate things like infinity and eternity? I just refuse to believe that we evolved to have the consciousness we do, to have it all go to hell in a handbasket.

Creativity is spurred by challenge, by restriction and by necessity. My deep belief is that we are headed for a surge of creative innovation and re-invention, because of the coming crisis – or even just the fear of its possibility. And reading this magazine, I see it already happening – all over the place in all kinds of ways.

Being me, I’m always looking at what I learn through the lens of art-making. So then, starting with what M. Scott Peck wrote – making art is difficult. And accepting that it is, beginning from there, it is no longer so hard. It doesn’t go as well if I start from the illusion that I will sit down to paint, and it will all just flow effortlessly out of me. I find myself saying to myself, and those who paint with me, that we call it art work for a reason. I do find myself sometimes getting into “the zone” when I paint. But mostly not. Mostly it’s quite an effort – evaluating shapes and colors, and what is needed for what I’m painting to become more alive – is work.
Just as taking the long view of human history provides another more hopeful point of view, taking the long view of my art keeps me going. Since 2005 or so, I’ve painted over 75 detailed, good-sized paintings. Maybe not as prolific as some artists, but based on the time each one takes and all else I do, this is an impressive body of work – one that amazes me! I put down each one of those brushstrokes!

It’s even helpful to take the long view within the life of a single painting – to step back, away from that little part that was vexing me – to see the whole thing taking shape. It encourages me to keep going. I often paint after dinner until bedtime. Then lean my painting up against the wall next to the bed. I look at it just before turning out the soft light on the nightstand. And just take it in. I’m not so much evaluating it for what’s needed, but just gaze at it. Watching it take shape is always a marvel. As if I am a bystander.
I love the Geoffrey Rush character in the movie “Shakespeare in Love”, who goes around saying to everyone “you know, it all works out in the end.” When asked how that is, he replies “don’t know, it’s a mystery.” I’m all for being an intelligent optimist – and living in that mystery.

With my love,

Cara