May 3, 2016 – Seeing with the eyes of love

I’ve decided that trying to get the huge blossom and bee painting done my mid-June is crazy with all else going on, so with the eyes of my heart, I’ve returned to this one. And, I’m very happy to be back with it.

Listen to this post:

“Ding!” went my phone Sunday morning. It was a text message from my neighbor and friend Jackie, asking me if I wanted to join her for a hike up the hill. It has been weeks since we’ve seen each other. I texted back “Sure!” I put my shoes on and trotted over, since her house is closer to where we start our hike. When I got there, she took me through to the backyard to share with me, her plans and challenges with re-doing their backyard to make it a fun and beautiful space, she and her family would use. Standing on her deck looking down at the level land, in full morning sun, I was envious. Our house sits between a huge oak tree – the subject of my very first post – and a near-vertical wall of rock,that is quite close to the back of the house. And because this wall of rock is at the bottom of a very big hill on our eastern side, we get zero sun until very late in the morning – not until mid-day in the winter. I would just love to have her full morning sun. Then, we did our hike up the hill with her sweet little dog, Mimi. We were having such a good time catching up, that when we got back to her house, she said she’d head my way so we could keep talking. She ended up walking with me all the way back to our house. She’d not been here before, so I gave her a tour around and through the house and yard.

For the past few years, Joe and I have been toying with the idea of finding a new house – largely so we could have some morning sun. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life, without sun streaming in my home until almost lunchtime. Just recently, we’ve decided to take on some projects to make sure our place looks its best – in case we do decide to put it on the market, we’ll be ready. And if not, we’ll enjoy a more usable and beautiful house and yard. As I showed Jackie around our place, I was telling her what we’d planned to do. What I realized I was doing, was telling her what I saw was wrong and ugly. What she saw, was how substantial, well-designed and solid our house is. We have beautiful hardwood floors that come from native tan oak trees. I love these floors and would miss them when we don’t live here anymore. But what I did point out, was one spot where there has been a lot of wear and is in need of re-finishing. Outside, I see the bare dirt where we used to have a struggling lawn and with the drought, we let it completely go. She saw the rose bushes and the really cool looking native rock.

Seeing our house through Jackie’s eyes, opened mine. She’d more recently seen a whole lot of houses, looking for the one they live in. Jackie’s reaction to our house in comparison to so many others, reminded me that we do have a really nice place. We have re-built our house with new everything – windows, doors, trims, siding, roof, bathrooms, kitchen, electrical, plumbing and heating systems – even a whole new clean and finished garage – and none of it is older, than 15 years. All the work we’ve done to this place makes it really solid, really functional and really beautiful. But, I’ve been focusing on the spots on the carpets, the walls needing a coat of paint, the planters that have been without plants – since I gave up on this yard, and started creating a garden in my studio, with watercolor.

I’ve been thinking about how this is. How is it that I can be so blinded by the little things, that I’ve forgotten how great all the big things are? The saying came to mind: familiarity breeds contempt. Though I’d not say I have contempt for our house – (however irrational, sometimes I do have contempt for that huge hill blocking our morning sun!) – but, there’s something to this adage that relates. When we are close to something for a sustained period of time, we can get pretty critical of it, and it can become pretty irritating. I see this in relationships – people who have been married a long time can get cranky with each other. And of course, I see it in how I relate to myself and my art.

There’s nothing I am closer to on a regular basis than myself, and I have to wonder if this is related to my being a relentless self-improver. The current vein of exploration in my path of evolution, is to understand the value of what I bring – specifically as an artist and a teacher. What makes what I offer special, unique to me? Seeing our house through Jackie’s eyes, makes me wonder if I’m having a hard time seeing it, because I’m so familiar with myself. I focus on all the little things that aren’t quite “right”, which keeps me from seeing the big things, that others seem to so appreciate.

My painting Raindance both at the place where it put it down, and all finished.

I see how familiarity breeds contempt, (or at least distaste) in our artwork too. There are paintings of mine that, while working on them, have fallen completely flat – the excitement that I always start a piece with – evaporated when what I’ve done, is really unpleasing to me. Sometimes I’ve pushed through – and by doing so have learned a lot. But there have been a few in recent years that I’ve set aside, because I can hardly stand to look at them – only to come back to them and, when finished, have them be very well received. I’m not alone here. There is hardly a weekly group session that goes by, where I don’t hear someone express something negative about their artwork. But I’ve come to believe that it’s just part of the deal. I’ve said this before: we have the unenviable job, of painting our paintings. Our view is zoomed way in, intimate with each brush stroke and wash. Sometimes what we need to do is put our paintings aside, and sometimes we need – like I did with Jackie and our house – the view from fresh eyes. We provide these fresh eyes to each other in our groups.

Today, I’m wondering if we can’t cultivate these fresh eyes for ourselves, for our artwork, for those closest to us in our lives – those we are most apt to get irritated with. In the poetry of the Sufi mystic, Rumi “the Beloved” is a major theme – the divine one who loves us unconditionally. I’ve not read all that much Rumi poetry, but enough to know, that what I want to cultivate is seeing as the Beloved does – through the eyes of love. I found this line from Rumi this morning: The light which shines in the eye, is really the light of the heart. What I want is to receive what comes through my eyes, not just in my mind – where criticism lives – but in my heart, where honor and appreciation live.

I say not “just in my mind” deliberately. We need our minds to help us determine, whether we are on track – with our art, with our relationships, even with ourselves. But if the comparing, critical eye is all we have, we miss so much. We can’t see the soul that emanates from whatever it is we are seeing. Apart from during the glow of newness, seeing with our hearts can sometimes be a challenge. We can refresh our vision, by either taking a break or seeing through the fresh eyes of another. And sometimes we can just by the virtue of grace.

I’m all about connection. And seeing only with a critical eye is disconnecting. To stay engaged with all aspects of our lives – our creations, other people and ourselves, we need to see with both our evaluating minds, and our appreciating hearts. All the reminder I need, to is simply recall being on the receiving end of that kind of heart-seeing – being regarded with the eyes of love. Regardless of what’s being said to me, I know I’m held. This is who I want to be – for my home, for my husband and family, for my artwork, and for those who come paint with me.

Seeing you with the eyes of love,

Cara