September 6, 2016 – Schlep art, carry panels

“Hula, found her home this weekend – it’s always poignant to say goodbye to these paintings I spend all those hours with.”

Listen to this post:

Last week in my coaching group call the conversation arose about what constitutes a “healing business.” Implicit in the conversation was a pre-conceived notion that a healing business is mostly one that involves one-on-one interaction, where one person is the healer and the other is being healed. Where we ended up is, that though this can be true, healing comes in many forms. My coaching sister, Susan runs a place of lodging in the wild grasslands of Saskatchewan, Canada. The business she runs with her husband, involves doing plenty of laundry, making beds and cleaning toilets – doing plenty of physical work. They host hunters and other travelers (as did the previous proprietors), but it is their intention to establish a retreat center on their place – with an explicit intent to heal. Someone else on the call (I wish I could remember who) pointed out that even now, without the overt context as a retreat center, they are still making it possible that those who come stay with them are healed – by simply being on the land and in how they are welcomed and cared for by their hosts. And – by holding what they do as a healing business, it might make the relentless chores less arduous. Making up a bed for the next weary traveler’s body to rest in, rather than just longing for the day the business can hire someone to make beds, might change what it’s like to do the work.

With this past weekend’s Sausalito Art Festival before me, this conversation pointed me to someplace important. I have been able to see that the weekly and monthly groups that I offer are opportunities for healing, but it occurred to me that showing my own paintings to the world, is also a way I offer healing. I’ve been told before, that my art heals those who see it. I’ve witnessed it touching people. In the post I wrote right after last year’s festival, I shared several of them. The ladies from Austin came back again this year to see me. And the young woman who couldn’t stop crying too – this time with her new boyfriend and their sweet little dog. She shared how seeing my art just after she had moved here, not knowing anyone, had somehow helped her know everything was going to be ok. And then there are those who end up with the artwork – many of them enjoy looking at it – they find it beautiful – and that is enough. But I’ve heard from many too, who find something in the artwork – even a print or calendar or mug – that touches a place in them, that longed to be reached. Yes, this part of what I do is a “healing business” too.

I’ve been griping inside myself from just about the beginning, about how much hard, physical work these shows are – looking forward to when I either don’t do them anymore, or I can hire help to take all of that off me. There is a lot of packing, schlepping, unpacking, hoisting, fastening, labelling… And then it all happens in reverse, after the weekend is over. After our call, it occurred to me that my mindset, the frame I put around why I am going through all this effort to do a festival, could use an upgrade. We live in a physical world. The healing through my art happens because I actually put real paint on real paper, which goes in real frames. These real paintings all need to be supported, displayed in order for people to encounter them. So what if I go through the effort to set up and take down a festival, with the idea that physical work is a spiritual practice too: chop wood, carry water. And – that I do it in service to someone’s healing.

“This year’s booth was one of my favorites ever – Lots of color, plenty of storage and table space.”

The plan at the end of the festival, was for me to button up my booth as I had the previous three nights, and then to come back in the morning to take it all down, after the majority of the artists had left. Since I live here and don’t have to get on the road today, this works great. But just as everyone was starting to pack up, something happened in the row behind my booth – a big, drunk man smashed through someone’s booth, causing damage and injury to her – and then attempted to climb up a really tall cyclone fence. There was the awful sound of people struggling physically against each other, a man was repeatedly screaming for security to come help. This whole thing really shook me up. Though he was taken away, I realized I wouldn’t sleep well, unless I got my artwork out of there last night. It ended up taking a while, because I hadn’t gotten my name on the list, for a cart to take it out to my car. In the past, I would have been anxious and crabby about being there so long after the festival had ended, and still not been loaded and out. But there wasn’t anyone else I was holding up – it was just me – and I was seeing to it that my irreplaceable paintings were safe. And even more amazing, I was not weary or feeling sorry for myself. I was just fine! Even this morning – I’m a bit tired – but not completely wiped out, like I have been after just about every show in the past. This is amazing!

There is another healing that happens through my doing festivals like this one, where people are engaged and connecting with the artwork. I’m healed too. Even in my 10th year of showing this artwork to the world, it hasn’t gotten tiresome to experience the impact it has on people. Twelve years ago, I faced the grief that I wasn’t going to give birth to any children – at least not on this go-round – and likely I’d not raise any children either, as we chose not to pursue adoption. It took doing something that mattered, really truly mattered to me, to reach in to touch this grief and give it a purpose. I absolutely know that if I’d had a child in 2004, I’d not have been at the Sausalito Art Festival this past weekend. The space in this life that was left by being childless, made possible the experience of witnessing the appreciation that my work received the past three days.

I’m still cozied up in bed as I write, warm and snuggly in my PJs, with Bo curled up on the other corner. And now it’s time to get myself up and dressed. I need to get down to the festival site, pack the truck and finish the job of putting it all away until next year. I’m so very grateful for all that supports me to make this possible – my husband, my incredible Mama, my friend Carla who helped set up, Jean from our Friday group who came yesterday to relieve me – and all those who stopped by to give me a bathroom break – and brought me glasses of champagne (no kidding!). And I’m grateful for my strong body too – my physical presence, that is able to take apart panels and load them into the truck. I am clearly a feminine being and I need to express this feminine in order to be whole – and this means I need rest and quiet time. But – and – it’s also fun to rock – because I am able to, I love to dig in and get stuff done.

So – here I go!

With my love and appreciation for you and how you allow me to offer healing to you – and for how you heal me as well,

Cara