Teaching is a Giant Hairball

Over the past few months, I’ve been asked by friends, family, and acquaintances why I walked away from teaching.

I could rant and rave about all the reasons that I stepped away from a twenty-year career as an art teacher in the public schools, but that would be just self-satisfying whining and complaining. I could simply say that it was to follow my dream of being an artist, but that’s just part of the reason. Instead of ranting and raving or giving a simple answer about following a dream, I want to show how teaching had changed during those twenty years in order to give people a little perspective into what teachers face.

Why I left a salaried position with good benefits to be a self employed artist boils down to one thing.

Teaching is a giant hairball.

If you're not a teacher, you might be scratching your head right now, thinking, “Huh?” My teacher friends probably already understand. Let me first say, that this is not my own idea. I am blatantly stealing the analogy from Gordon MacKenzie who worked for Hallmark Cards for thirty years. In his book, Orbiting the Giant Hairball: A Corporate Fool’s Guide to Surviving with Grace, MacKenzie describes how he survived working for Hallmark as an artist by orbiting the giant hairball that was Hallmark. By staying disentangled from the bureaucratic, corporate mess he was able to survive. He describes Hallmark as a giant hairball, and how every new decision, policy, and procedure added another hair to the hairball, and over time, Hallmark grew into a massive tangle of hair because hairs were never taken away, only added.

I read that, and I thought, “Teaching is a giant hairball!” But there’s no way to orbit around it like Gordon MacKenzie did. As a teacher, you can’t stay on the fringe and not be pulled into the mess. You have to dive into that mass of tangled hairs and fight your way to clear a path to teaching. Simply put, teaching is full of rules, procedures, protocols, policies, regulations, and expectations that get in the way of teaching, and it has always been that way. But it has grown worse steadily with each passing year. It has become a bigger hairball, and that is why I left. I grew tired of fighting the massive tangle of hairs that obscured why I was there — the teaching.

Let me extend MacKenzie’s analogy a bit to illustrate this to the fullest extent that I can.

Let’s imagine that teaching is a red rubber ball. Visualize that bright, bouncy ball. In it’s purest and simplest form teaching is about the connection between the teacher and the student, and there isn’t anything that gets in the way. You see the red rubber ball clearly and there are no tangles, no hairs, no impediments. The teacher has ready access to the red rubber ball of teaching. This pure teaching is rarely the case in public school, but there are instances that come close. Tutoring an individual one-on-one or teaching a class to the general public at an art center or community center might be the closest, but it’s not the usual case in public school.

In reality there have always been rules and regulations in public schools, so that bright red ball of teaching has always had a few hairs wrapped around it. There is no way around it. There have to be policies, procedures, and expectations in a school, or there might be anarchy. There has to be some kind of bureaucracy, but ideally, it shouldn’t hinder the teaching. These hairs shouldn't take much time to deal with allowing the teacher to quickly uncover the rubber ball and dive into teaching. That would be an ideal situation in today’s world of teaching.

And that’s kind of how it was when I started teaching twenty years ago. There wasn’t much that got in the way. I had a schedule to contend with, meetings every now and then, planning to complete, grading to do, and a few phone calls to make. But those things were pretty easy to deal with, and I felt like much of my time was really dedicated to that connection between the students and myself. I was pretty much left alone, and the administration checked in occasionally to see how things were going. So, yes, teaching was a hairball, but it wasn’t daunting and overwhelming.  It wasn’t a giant tangled mess yet.

Over the years, however, more and more and more hairs have been added to the red rubber ball of teaching. It’s interesting to note that this corresponds to a rise in the use of technology, and each year many of the newly added hairs have dealt directly and indirectly with technology. But I digress. Nowadays, the tangled mess of hairs obscures the essential core that is teaching, and it takes increasingly more time and energy to deal with these issues. Remember hairs are always added, but they are never taken away. Some people might think, “So what, every job is like that. Bosses always add more things for you to do. Deal with it!”

But let me try to show the scope of things that were required, but are not necessary or even productive to teaching.

During my last few years of teaching, I had to deal with an increasing number of things that were handed down by administrators, and I had to do them. I had to untangle this mass of hairs that left little room to focus on the actual teaching, and administrators were constantly hovering and micro-managing to make certain that they were done so the appropriate boxes could be checked off on my end of the year evaluation.

Let me share a few specifics.

Each year new district-wide mandates and requirements and new school-based initiatives and expectations were announced, and each required hours and hours of professional development to learn about these new ideas and how to implement them, and planning to figure out the best way to implement them. The ideas had to be implemented, and of course, data had to be collected to support these multiple initiatives. To show that we had implemented them, we had to fill out and file reports that documented the progress and completion of the new initiatives. Each of these things added many more hairs to the massive hairball.

When I wasn’t dealing with these district-wide and school-based mandates, I had other issues to deal with, like the hundred emails that came daily. Most of them could be ignored, but a handful of the emails needed to be answered thoughtfully and diligently. Simple, quick replies wouldn’t suffice, and there was the expectation that a reply would be sent within 24 hours. I had to deal with rising discipline problems because students were stressed out from the regime of standardized tests and assessments they had to endure. Many students just couldn’t hold it together all the time, so there were referrals and reports and conversations with parents, teachers, counselors, and the principal about it all. Each of these added more and more layers to the hairball.

There were the constant disruptions in the schedule with assemblies, field trips, testing, parties, and special events. It was impossible to keep all the classes working at the same pace because of all the things that interrupted the flow of instruction and the sequences of learning. Of course, there were meetings. They might be a necessity of schools, but there were faculty meetings, and team meetings, and committee meetings that never really seemed to accomplish anything. I guess they did satisfy part of the School Improvement Plan. I can’t forget about duties, where teachers were taken out of their classrooms to cover the hallway, or to stand in a noisy cafeteria, or to stand outside in rain, sleet, snow, and heat for bus or car duty. All of these things just added more hairs to the giant hairball.

Grading was a whole other situation. It was never a simply task, but when grade books moved to the Internet so that parents and students could have access to their grades 24/7, a whole new layer of hairs were added to the red rubber ball of teaching. A simple task like entering an assignment to be graded (not the actual grading, mind you) could take an hour. That’s just for a single assignment. So, more hairs.

I list these things not to complain, but to illustrate some of the things that teachers have to deal with that have little to do with actual teaching. I know that I haven’t included everything, and there are many other things that I could add. I’m quite certain that other teachers could add things that I can’t even think of right now. I just want to make it clear that teachers have to untangled a whole lot just to get to the teaching, and it’s not like once all of this tangled mass of bureaucratic stuff is cleared, you're done with it for the year. No, a teacher has to deal with this on a daily basis. You have to go in and untangle the giant hairball each and everyday so that you can get to what’s underneath — that red rubber ball. After all, that’s why there’s school in the first place — to connect with students and teach them. The most important part of teaching is buried, and a teacher has to work hard to clear away the extraneous stuff.

It’s exhausting to struggle with that tangled mess everyday, and the only way to deal with it — to get it all untangled is to stay late, come in early, or take work home with you. There’s just not enough time in the school day to get it all done because school districts add more and more for teachers to do but never add more time, and there becomes an expectation that you will dedicate your own time to get it all done because, after all, it’s for the kids! Though the teacher’s contract gives specific times that the teacher is suppose to be at work, all the teachers I know, work well beyond the contract. The great teachers do that and more. They sacrifice time with family and friends in order to get it all done. They work hard going in on weekends and taking work home, but at the same time, there is a devaluing of the profession. Administrators and principals see that teachers will continually give of their own time, and so it becomes another expectation. But all of those extra hours of staying late and going in early and on weekends deflate the profession and the salaries of the teachers. And that’s what I couldn’t take anymore — the devaluing of my profession by the school board and the administrators by heaping on more and more every year, with the expectation that it will all just get done and, oh, there will still be outstanding teaching and learning going on in the classroom.

In the end I didn’t have the energy or the stamina to go in day after day and deal with so many things that had nothing to do with the core of teaching. I have always loved sharing my art and my passion for art. Teaching always gave me a way to do just that, but after fighting to untangle the mass of hairs day in and day out for years and years, I had no energy left for my students, for my art, for my wife, for my friends, or for myself. I was burned out, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d come home exhausted and worn out, and all I wanted to do was to sleep or veg out in front of the tv.

I used to love teaching, and there was nothing like seeing the look on a student’s face when they struggled and struggled with an idea or concept and then finally got it. But teaching had changed so much in the twenty years that I taught. It seems like teaching now isn’t about the connection between student and teacher, though administrators try to tell you that it is. Teaching seems to be about dealing with a tangled mess and checking off boxes to say that you’ve done it, and that’s why I don’t love teaching anymore. Teaching changed, and I just don’t love it. I’m afraid that it’s just going to get worse, and that’s very unfortunate and very disheartening.

Teaching is a giant hairball that keeps growing and growing, and I just couldn’t take untangling that mess anymore. That is why I left.

First Day of School?

Today was the first day of school for area students, and I must say that it felt a little odd looking at so many of my friends on Facebook posting those First Day of School snapshots of their kiddos heading off to school. It was strange when my teacher friends headed back for their first teacher workday a week and half ago. It's even stranger now, and there's no turning back.

I decided to spend the morning out on the trail, so as students were waiting for the bus, I drove ten miles west to the Appalachian Trail and headed north for my first hike of the year. I haven't been hiking since last fall.

It was a bit muggy, and I didn't go far. But it was nice to be out on the trail. I just love being out in the woods, but it was often difficult with teaching to find the time to go out and enjoy nature. I'm hoping to make hiking at least a weekly endeavor now that I have begun a new path in life.

It hasn't been all fun and hiking. I have been busy in the studio and on the computer. I'm finding that being a full time artist is about half-time in the studio, and half-time trying to set up and coordinate things. So, I've been doing a lot of emailing, researching, and other general things on the computer, but I have some things in the works. I'll be sharing some of those things a little later.

First Day

Today is a strange day for me. A day full of excitement and a little trepidation.

You see, today would have been my first day back to school if I were still teaching. It’s the first time in twenty years that I am not reporting to my first teacher workday, and as all of my former colleagues are reporting for their first day of meetings, setting up classrooms, and catching up after the summer break, I’m sitting here drinking coffee thinking about what I need to do in the studio today. It’s oddly freeing, and little terrifying at the same time. I am on my own now. I am a full-time, self-employed artist. It’s official.

I know it was official when I put in my resignation back in May. I know it was official when I got the letter from the school district confirming my “voluntary separation”. I know it was official when I cleaned out my classroom and packed up my boxes in June, but the last two months have felt like any other summer break that I have had over my 20 year career as an art educator. With all of my local teacher friends heading back to school today, it’s officially official. I am no longer a teacher.

Back in June everyone kept asking if leaving the teaching profession had started to sink in, but even with the last day of school and bringing home boxes of stuff, walking away from a teaching career was somehow still a vagueness. I knew intellectually that I had resigned and that I would not be returning for a 21st year, but all of it still felt like it was somewhere off in the future. The summer was just the summer after another year of teaching, so my last day of school didn’t feel like it was my last day.

Today, however, feels like the first day of a new life, a new journey. I now feel fully the freedom, the possibility, and the uncertainty of chasing my dream. I am looking forward to the adventure.

Customized Phone Case

My wife recently bought a new phone, and wanted a special case for it. She decided that she wanted to use one of my pieces of art, and she picked one of my more recent paintings, Meditate. Using the website Casetify, we were able to import a jpeg of the painting to use for a custom case. She received it today, and I must say, it looks pretty sweet. See the original painting below.

Letting Go: Part 2

Over the last week, I've been sorting, cleaning, organizing, and purging a lot of stuff in my classroom, and I've been able to let go of a lot things from my 20 years of teaching. That letting go has carried over to my studio as well, as I have been getting the studio ready for next weekend's Western Loudoun Artists Studio Tour. I've been sorting and purging a lot of stuff from the studio - old artwork, old supplies, old fodder - as I have been cleaning and organizing. I've worked quite a number of hours, and still have a long way to go. The photo above was taken last night after spending a few hours working. I did even more today, and the studio is a complete shambles. Slowly, though, I am getting it put back together.

Even though the Studio Tour is a great motivation to clean and organize the studio, it goes deeper than just trying to get ready for next weekend. It's about getting ready to make the transition into a new chapter of my life, and I am looking to declutter, to simplify, and to let go. It's a new beginning, and I want to make a fresh start. I don't want to let the things of the past clutter the life that I am living now. So, if I haven't used something in a couple of years, if something doesn't serve a purpose for my life now, I'm letting it go.

I still have a ways to go, but the studio will be ready for next Saturday.

Letting Go

We all carry around so much baggage, both emotional and physical. There comes a point when we must let it go and stop carrying it. In a small way I have started to let go of some things.

For twenty years, I have been an art teacher, and I have filled my classroom with a lot of stuff - books, papers, objects, art, and so much more. But with embarking on a new chapter in my life, I needed to go through all of that stuff and let so much of it go. When I transferred schools four years ago, I sorted and purged. I let go of a lot of stuff then, but I still ended up with forty boxes and bins of stuff. That was four years ago, and I know that I have accumulated even more, but I don’t have the room to keep it all. After a while I just feel like all of these things are just holding me down and holding me back.

I began to sort and purge today with the goal that within a couple of weeks, I’ll just have a few boxes to move from my classroom. I plan on giving away all that I can, and I know that there are some eager teachers in my district that would love to have some of the myriad of things I have accumulated over twenty years, but there’s still a lot to get rid of, to recycle, and to trash. Over the years, my classroom became a place to put much of my old artwork - paintings, sculptures, and experiments from college and my first few years of teaching - things that I didn’t want or need at home, but things I didn’t want to get rid of. Some of these things are more than twenty years old, and I just don’t need them. I don’t have room for them, and they’re not things that I would sell or donate or give away. I no longer wish to hold onto the past, so these things need to go.

I began letting go of some of it today. I quickly filled a recycling bin with old files, miscellaneous papers, and outdated booklets. Those things were easy to part with, but I was surprised at how other things stirred up some emotions. I think it was part nostalgia, part fear, part sadness, and as I dumped some old artwork, notes, and projects into recycling (mostly things from college - things that I do not need and will never use), I felt some powerful emotions. It was hard to let these things go. Maybe part of it was that I spent so much time on these things. Maybe they just symbolized the past that is long in the past, but still some how still with me. But I let these things go, and much more.

I wanted to make the letting go more of a ritual - more symbolic, so I grabbed a few pieces and brought them home. In many ways these three things represent different stages of my past. The large head made of thin plywood was done in college during the spring of my freshmen year - 24 years ago. The red, orange, and yellow 3-D portrait was something I made from colored paper about 10 years ago when I taught high school, and the wooden tower was something that I did about a month ago as my elementary students worked building wooden sculptures. All things from the past - all things that I no longer need - all things I no longer want to hold on to.

I placed them in my fire pit in the back yard, and I set them ablaze. It didn’t take long for them to burn to ash. It was cathartic to see these things disappear - to let them go in such a concrete way.

In the end they were just things, and too often the things we have weigh us down. We all have baggage, and we seem to haul it from place to place. There comes a time when we just get tired of lugging it around and we need to lighten the load and just let go.

Here’s to letting go of the past, focusing on the present, and moving into an unknown future.

Taking the Leap

Over the past three weeks, I have made an exciting announcement at my various workshops and presentations, and there is nothing more daunting and more liberating than standing in front of an audience whether it’s a handful of people or over 300 and declaring your intentions. So, I thought that I would make that declaration even more concrete.

After 20 years of teaching in public schools in Maryland and Virginia, I am taking the leap and stepping away from that profession to pursue being an artist/writer/speaker/workshop presenter full time. It’s a scary transition fraught with risk going from a secure job with a salary to a calling that is going to involve a lot of uncertainty, a lot of hustle, and hopefully a lot of reward.

For seven or eight years now, I have dreamed of the day that I could walk away from my career as a public school teacher, and I kept waiting for the perfect time and the perfect circumstances. I made plans only to see the plans derailed. So, I’ve decided to stop waiting. If I wait for circumstances to be perfect, for the time when there’s enough money in the bank, or for that big break, I’ll be waiting a long time. So I have come to the decision that the time is now. It is with much excitement and a little trepidation that I announce that my 20th year of teaching will be my last so that I can follow my dream.

For 20 years, I have stuck with a trying and challenging job that has brought me little satisfaction, and one that no longer resonates with me. I began my career in the late 90’s teaching in inner city Baltimore. To say it was challenging is an understatement, but I figured the challenges and difficulties were from being a new teacher in an inner city school. I survived those two years in Baltimore, and landed in Loudoun County, Virginia - the polar opposite of the inner city. I passed off the difficulties that I then faced as being a fairly inexperienced teacher, and I expected that over time, things would get better. As I gained experience, as I gained insight, I would rise above the challenges.

But teaching has changed so much over the last 20 years. Students have changed, the requirements of teaching have changed, the environment and the expectations have changed. If I could simply teach, I’d continue being a teacher, but all of that other stuff gets in the way. There are so many particulars that I won’t even get into, but simply, I feel that I disconnect with my authentic self when I walk into my classroom. I feel that I do not belong there. Yes, I have days when my students amaze me and bring me great joy, and nothing beats that moment when a struggling student “gets it” and you can see the light bulb go on as the look on their face changes, but those moments are few and far between. I am tired and drained from all the meetings, mandates, data collecting, grading, and extras that have nothing to do with teaching. How can I get my students excited to be in my class when I’m not excited?

So, I am stepping away.

I come alive when I make my art, when I write about my art and my process, and when I step in front of a group of people and teach them about my art and my process. I have so enjoyed exploring my art over the past few months, and teaching these last three weeks in Portland, Galax, and Chicago. All of these experiences, whether making art in my studio or standing in front of 300 educators, resonate with my spirit. I feel at home, and the most connected to myself during those times. No grades, no committee meetings, no administrative mandates, no extra b.s. Just me connecting with my art and hopefully inspiring other people.

And that’s what I’m going to do - make art, write about art, and teach about art. Several things have already begun aligning to reinforce that I am making the best decision for myself. I am setting my intention and preparing to take one of the biggest leaps of my life. I am ready to start a new chapter in my life - a chapter of authentic living and following my heart.

Here’s to taking the leap!

Showing Up

"Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and get to work." - Chuck Close

I have been making a concerted effort to show up more lately. Since January, I have been finding the time and the motivation to create more work and to share it more often here on the blog and through various social media outlets. I have made the decision that I am not going to hold back any longer. If I want to be a thriving artist, I need to make art - period. I need to live the life now, and not allow so many things to get in the way pulling me from my art.

To that end, I have been making it into the studio more often, and I have been working on small pieces quite a but in the evening as I watch tv. I have been finding little ways to stay engaged in my art, and not allow too many things to interfere. It does mean that I've occasionally let the vacuuming go, and I have sacrificed a little but time with my wife and my animals. But it is important to me to continue to build the momentum and to allow the making and the creating to flow. It is important to me to consistently show up!

Art Trends and Authenticity

It seems that every few years there is another trend in the arts and crafts world. Scrapbooks, altered books, artist trading cards, Zentangle, and now adult coloring books. I was reminded of the adult coloring book fad as I walked into a local Barnes and Noble, and saw a display of couple dozen books in the entry way. I am intrigued by these trends since they seem to last a few years, and then it’s onto something else.

I think these all simply speak to our innate need to create. There’s something inside of us all that we want to share with the world, and we have this feeling that this thing, whatever it is that we want to share, will bring some meaning and some purpose to our lives. Creating something, whether it’s painting, drawing, singing, dancing, writing, or inventing, is a way for us to have a piece of ourselves out in the world. It’s an act of manifestation as we try to bring forth a part of our inner world, our inner vision.

Everyone has this desire to leave their mark on the world, and the struggle to fulfill this desire leads many into the "creative arts". They see someone painting, or building, or singing, or writing, and the say,”Hey! I’d love to do that.” For many that is where the little voice in their heads takes over spreading doubt and fear, and the initial excitement subsides into negative self talk. People talk themselves right out of even trying, and they say “Hey. I’d live to do that, BUT I don’t have the talent or the imagination. I could never do anything like that.” So, they look for something safe, something with a known outcome, something that keeps the inner critic at bay while quelling the urge to create.

Many people turn to the latest trend to try their hand at creating. It’s less intimidating, it involves less risk, and it often involves less thinking and imagination. For a while this foray into the latest crafty craze feeds that urge to make and create, but then, it can lose its appeal. These trends can be unfulfilling in the long run because the Spirit is always looking for authenticity. Following someone else’s directions, leaving all the decisions to someone else, and coloring in someone else’s drawing or design can leave a hollow feeling. We want to be original. We want to create and not simply make, and if we can't find a way to turn these fashionable art forms into authentic expressions, we can lose interest in them. We then look for the next greatest thing, and the cycle continues.

It's no easy task to be original if we’ve had a lifetime of people, even ourselves, telling us that we are not creative, imaginative, artistic or talented. When we’re filled with fear and doubt we need to let go of the past, not worry about the future, and focus on the present. We can only create in the here and now.

But how do we do that? How do we quiet the inner critique and stay present? How do we find an authentic inner vision? Well, that’s my mission, and I have some vague notions and ideas right now. I am looking forward to sharing more when those ideas have gelled into something more concrete.

Living on Purpose

I came across this phrase as I read Dr. Wayne W. Dyer’s Inspiration: Your Ultimate Calling, and it resonated deeply with me. I had to stop immediately and write the phrase down before I forgot. The power and simplicity of this phrase struck me.

For far to long, I have been living life mindlessly, going through my days being pulled here and there by the whims of fancy. My life had become routine, and I was caught in a cycle of self-defeating thoughts. I had been swept along by the current of events and happenstance, and my life, at times, seemed like an endless stream of disappointments and resentments. Life was passing me by, and I definitely wasn’t living on purpose.

Over the last year, I have been trying to be more present in my life, and this idea of living on purpose sits so perfectly with where I am on my journey. Living on purpose is about living consciously and with attention and intention - attention to the present moment and the intention that I will stay fully aligned with my purpose and my joy.

In the past I felt like I was not living the life that I wanted to live. I kept waiting for the right time and the right circumstances, but that’s not living. I have made a conscious decision to live the life that I want to live, right now in this very moment instead of allowing life to pass by. I am a firm believer that we create the world in our own image, and the universe returns to us that which we put out into it. If we are filled with anger, frustration, and resentment and allow that negativity to flow out into the world, our world will be an angry, frustrating, and resent-filled place. If we stay fixed on the present and fill ourselves with joy, love, and purpose, we can allow that positivity to flow freely into the world. Our world then will be a joyful, loving, purpose-filled place.

I am working on staying present and aligned with my purpose.

Purpose

Why am I here? That’s the question that we all struggle to answer during our lifetimes. What is my purpose? That’s another way of putting it, and some people never figure out an answer. They spend their entire lives making a living, accumulating more stuff and more debt and more misery. When we are out of alignment with our purpose, we suffer. When we are in alignment, we flourish. It is a wonderful thing to figure out why we are here and what our purpose is. I think that I am figuring that out for myself.

I love art. I love making art, I love sharing my art, I love talking about art, and I love connecting through my art. And it’s that last part where my purpose lies. Hey, it would be great to sell art and make it as a professional artist, but I have bigger plans. I have a bigger mission in mind. I believe wholeheartedly that I am here on this Earth to help other people connect to their creativity. In my forty-two years of life, I have figured out a thing or two about creativity, and I want to share and inspire.

The thing is the word “creativity” has so much baggage attached to it, and it’s hard for people to really grasp it. Actually, that word scares a lot of people. It’s intimidating, and there are a lot of folks out there who will swear they have no creativity at all. But they are confused and confounded. Creativity is an innate human capacity. It’s our original programming. “If you’re alive, you’re creative,” to quote author Patti Digh.

But throughout history we have cloaked the concept of creativity in romanticized ideas and wrapped it in a veil of mystery and magic. Writers, artists, scientists, and philosophers of the past have written and spoken about creativity in enigmatic ways, but creativity is such a straight forward and simple idea. Ken Robinson says that creativity is about coming up with new ideas that have value, and we are all capable of that. However, fear, doubt, judgement, and misunderstanding all get in the way of seeing our own creativity clearly. Our world extols conformity, so it’s no wonder that so many people don’t believe in their own capacity for creativity. When we are so easily mocked, ridiculed, and chastised by others for our seemingly odd ideas, it takes a strong will to hold onto a unique way of being in the world.

But what if we could put the fear, the doubt, the apprehension, and the judgement out of our minds? What if we could simply be in this moment right here, right now? We would find a moment of endless possibility. No fear, no doubt, no little voice saying we’re doing it wrong. We would find the seed of creativity. Creativity isn’t an art thing, an intelligence thing, a genius thing. It’s a human thing, and when we connect to our creativity, we connect to our humanity on the deepest level.

In our ego driven world that is bent on keeping up appearances and having a fixed identity, it’s difficult to be in the moment. It is my mission to help others connect to the present moment where their authentic voice can be heard in full expression of their innate creativity.

Shifting Momentum

One year ago, I struck up a plan to change my life. I had spent 18 and a half years working in a job that was bringing me more and more misery with each passing year. Instead of things getting better the way you think they would as you gain experience and skill, things seemed like they were steadily getting worse. I was simply miserable. I was filled with anger and resentment, and I despised going to work everyday. I had dreams - big dreams, that weren’t coming true. But I was stuck. When you have a mortgage and bills, you need a way to meet those obligations. Teaching was my way, but it had turned into something that I dreaded. I was fighting against it, banging my head, longing to be somewhere else.

My life had become filled with a lot of “what if”s, “only if”s, and “if only”s. I wasn’t living the life that I wanted. I needed a shift. I needed a way out. For years, I had kept saying, “When I save enough money” or “When I can book enough workshops, I’ll step away from teaching and live the life I keep imaging”. But life had a habit of getting in the way, eating up extra money, and keeping me stuck in a job I dreaded. How could I step away from this misery and into the life I dreamt about? I needed a plan and I needed to shift my momentum.

So, a year ago, I came up with a plan. I’d give myself another year and a half to shift the momentum and find an exist strategy. I’d put in other year and half of teaching, for a total of 20 years, and I’d step away. I just couldn’t see teaching another eleven or twelve years before I was eligible to retire, and I needed to shift things. If things continued the way they had been going, I’d never be able to step away. So, I thought long and hard. I journaled and I brainstormed. I had to figure out what I wanted and how to make that happen. The simple fact is that I need to make money to meet my obligations. But how to do that as an artist, writer, and workshop leader?

I finally figured that if I could get something steady going - something that was in some way reliable. Selling art, teaching workshops here and there just isn’t all that reliable unless you can sell a bunch of your art and sell out the classes you teach. I needed something else. Something that I could do while I continued as a teacher. I hit upon the idea of offering online workshops. Dave and I had done some small things - webinars for a variety of organizations, video tutorials and workshop type stuff for some other folks. We put together PowerPoints and videos, and I kept thinking, “Hey, we could do something like that for ourselves.” That was it. If I could offer a series of online workshops, that might be somewhat reliable. So I gave myself a year - a year to cobble together an online workshop. I decided that this needed to be part of my bigger scheme to shift momentum and step away from teaching.

Over the last twelve months, I’ve slowly worked on a workshop here and there when I’ve had time. I had to figure out a whole lot along the way because I really had no idea what I was doing - I still have no idea. I don’t know how it compares to others, but I really don’t care. I’m doing my thing the best I know how, and I know there are people who will like it, love it, and share it. I’m putting it out into the world - tomorrow actually. We’ll see how it resonates with others.

But this isn’t about the workshop. This is about what has happened in the mean time as I have shifted my focus. The thing is that through a lot of little things - tiny steps, I have seen things slowly change for me and the Journals Fodder Junkies. We’ve attracted nearly 400 new followers to the JFJ Facebook page. We’ve been booked to do more workshops - especially Art and Soul in Portland, Oregon and Virginia Beach, VA. I’ve posted more on the blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on Instagram. I’ve made the JFJ a bigger presence in the world of social media, and I’ve made a lot of artwork. But those are just statistical successes - outward appearance type things. 

The biggest surprise has been the change within myself over the last year. I realize that I have become more present lately. I have become more focused on the Now - the moment that is happening right here and right now. I realize now that a lot of the misery that I felt was because I was so focused on how things hadn’t worked out in the past, and how I wanted to be somewhere else entirely. I was caught resenting the past, and worrying about the future. I had no energy to focus on the Now. I was creating the misery and the suffering by not being in the present moment. But that has shifted. I have become much more aware of the here and now.

I still have a goal for the future, but I’m focusing on the practical and tangible steps that I need to do right here and right now. As long as I focus on that, as long as I realize that I can only be where I am, then things seem to go more smoothly and I am much more at peace. Actually, I have discovered just how happy I am. The misery that I felt over the last few years has faded. This has actually been one of my best, if not the best year that I’ve ever had as a teacher. There are still plenty of frustrating things that happen and are happening in the teaching profession, but as long as I stay present, and not let the complaining and moaning overtake me, I am much more satisfied. I am no longer waiting for the day when I can do what I want. I am doing it right now. I am creating the life that I have been dreaming about for so long. I’m still teaching. That’s something I need to do still to make the bills, but I have a plan. The momentum is shifting, and I am finding joy and happiness by staying present. I need to remember that the journey is the destination, and I have to be where I am and not resent where I have been and worry about where I will be.

Here. Now. That’s all there is. I am finding ways to share, to connect, to have purpose right here right now.

Here’s to the continued shift in momentum and to staying present.

Connection

Over the past few days, I felt compelled to reflect on recent tragic events. What follows is my rambling reflection on the state of our world that has lead to repeated death and destruction across the globe.

I am tired of the fear, the anger, the hatred, and the ignorance that is so prevalent around me in the world today. My soul hangs heavy as my heart beats with anxiety and sorrow, and I see a world full of conflict and division. How did we get here?

In our contemporary times we are all so separate, so isolated. Despite the wonders of technology that keep us connected to news, to information, and to each other 24/7, and despite the proliferation of texting and social media, we find ourselves more and more isolated and more and more disconnected from each other. This technology adds layers of insulation between us and those we interact with, and unfortunately, loneliness, depression, fear, and anger run more rampant in our technological age. This technology can never replace heart-to-heart and face-to-face connection. By relying so much on this technology, we become so much more removed from one another, and our tribes, families, and relationships have disintegrated. We are left with feelings of hollowness, mistrust, and dread, and we can feel so lost and disconnected in our lives.

This technology has also brought about another problem. We long to connect, yet we are fed a steady diet of anger, fear, hatred, violence, and destruction. It pours out of our tv, computer, and smart device screens. We are constantly bombarded with the endless chatter of hate and anger, and we are continually exposed to flashing images of war, death, and destruction. It makes us anxious, afraid, and uncertain. We begin to think that isolating ourselves is a good idea. We begin to seek distance and separation, the opposite of connection. We want to separate ourselves from other people and distance ourselves from those who are not like us. Our egos feed on this drama and misery. We are consumed by the vitriol of people spouting anger, bigotry, and fear. It gets inside of us, pits us against others, and makes us fear and hate. We lash out at others. We rant and rave, complain and vent, and the world becomes a scary place. The endless droning from the electric screens and the endless voices in our own heads convince us that it’s us against them - that people who are not like us are to be feared, hated, despised, and attacked. Hate fills us as we look at others as our enemies. We sling expletives, insults, and hurtful epithets.

Our egos feed on this separation, negativity, and sense of Us vs. Them. The ego puffs us up making us feel that only we are right, only we know the truth. The ego builds us up with the sense that we are superior and the others are inferior. The others are wrong, and worthy of our anger, our venom, our rage. But the ego also can break us down leading us to wallow in the misery as we convince ourselves that the world hates us. We build up the fences and walls to protect ourselves - to keep ourselves safely locked away - to keep the others out. There within our fences and walls, we feed the ego the anger, the misery, and the hatred, and we build the fences higher and the walls thicker. It’s us against them. We’re right, and they're wrong. We’re so lost in our own stories that we are beyond any hope of having a meaningful dialogue. We have shut out any kind of sense or rationality. We are right! They are wrong! Period! End of discussion! And the ego feeds and flourishes on this strong sense of identity. We lose our conscious mind, and the ego has complete control. We lose all sense of love and compassion. We only identify with those who feed our delusion - who feed the anger and the isolation. We cannot hear words of love and connection anymore.

This grand drama becomes routine. It’s us vs. them. We’re good, they're evil. We’re in the right, and they’re in the wrong. Hate and anger pour from us. We verbally attack, and all sides spew their hatred, and spew their propaganda. We cannot hear through the noise. We cannot open our minds or our hearts because we are under a constant barrage as others incite us, insult us, rile us up, and unload their hatred. We retaliate. We bombard our enemies with our own wounding words, our own justifications, our own bigotry and hatred. We look to cut into our enemies, to hurt them with our words, to denigrate and insult. It becomes a shouting match. He who shouts loudest wins!

And at some point, it all boils over. The anger and hatred burst forth in some act of violence and death. Are we truly surprised at the mass shootings and acts of terrorism and aggression that happen on a regular basis? How can we be, when we have spent so much time and energy cultivating the hate, feeding the anger, and pushing people away? We create the world in our own image, and these acts of violence and aggression only go to prove our point. We spiral deeper into the hate separating ourselves even more. We demonize and dehumanize those who are different. It makes it easier to spew the venom and anger filled rhetoric. It makes it easier to attack, maim, and kill.

No wonder it’s an easy leap from words to bullets and bombs. Our egos have convinced us that we are purely in the right. So, we go to war. We justify killing and death both on an individual level and on a national level. That ends the conversation, and it puts a dramatic exclamation point on our argument. We justify death and destruction because the voice of the ego has fed on the drama, the hate, the justifications. The voice convinces us that we are irrevocably right, and so we are justified to act out. We are justified in our own minds to kill - to end the life of others because we are so intwined in the fantasy of us vs. them that pulling a trigger or detonating a bomb is the only logical thing left to do.

In our day and age, how is it that we are still at this point where individuals and nations see that the only viable solution is violence and killing? Our history is filled with this death and destruction. Why have we not learned, grown, and evolved?

We all begin our journey in this world seeking connection. Early in life, we all want the love and the comfort of our mothers and fathers. We all want the acceptance and respect of our family and our peers. We all seek connection, but if we’re not careful, we end up seeking separation and conflict. We find isolation, fear, and loneliness instead. We find a strange comfort in aligning ourselves with the hate and the anger of others, and the cancer of violence grows and spreads. Separation feeds the cancer.

That’s not the world that I want to live in - one of hate and fear. I want connection, love, and compassion. I want to build a community of diversity and respect. I want a world of light and love, not hate and darkness. Connection, compassion, and understanding are the only way to end the cycle of violence and fear that grips our world.

I will continue to seek connection, and I will continue to spread love, compassion, and understanding.

Art is not a Competition

Dave and I just got back from Art Unraveled in Phoenix, where we had a great time connecting to people and teaching a few things about our process, but there have been several things that have come up that have me thinking. I want to share.

Life is not a race.

Art is not a competition.

So often we get tangled up in our thoughts about our lives and about our art, that we get lost inside of them building up stories and scenarios in our minds. We run the scripts through our heads so often that we begin to really believe in them. We begin to spiral uncontrollably in them, and we can’t escape them.

These are stories of lack and comparison. Over and over, I have heard these stories from others and from myself, and they are stories that keep us stuck as we look for someone or something to blame.

When we step out of the present moment, when we start to think about where we’ve been and where we’d like to be, we quickly fill our thoughts with all the things that we don’t have and all the people who have it better. We waste energy thinking that if we just had more money, or lived in a different area, or if we just had the breaks that others had, then our lives would be different - our art would be different. We waste our energy spinning these stories around in our heads, and we go nowhere. We stay stuck spinning our wheels.

I have been experiencing such thoughts myself. For years now, I’ve been dreaming of making it as an artist. By making it, I mean making a living off of my art. I would like to step away from being a public school teacher, and live my dream of making and selling work, traveling and teaching classes, and writing books and articles. I do a little of all of those things, but not to the extent I would really like. I do sell a little of my art. I do travel a little to teach, and I have co-written a couple of books. But in order to keep paying the mortgage, in order to keep paying the bills, I have to keep working a full time job that can be demanding and draining. And all the while, I think about all the things that I don’t have, all the things that I have to do and put up with, all the people who I think have it easier than I do, and I continually get lost inside of these thoughts. I compare myself to others and think about all that I don’t have. I tear myself down and bury myself under the weight of these ideas.

What if I let go of my stories? What if every time I began to think of what I don’t have, I let it go and thought about what I do have? What if every time I began to compare myself to others, I let it go, and thought about who I am? This would mean that I would get present with myself. If I focus on where I am right now and what I can offer right here, there is no room for those old and tired scripts.

And so that is what I am working on - staying present and knowing that I lack nothing and that life is not a competition.

When we tell ourselves stories of comparison and lack, we diminish ourselves and our art, and we make ourselves small. We can only do what we can do, but we must do it with an eye on growing, connecting, and inspiring. I shared a bit of advice with someone recently, and I think that I need to heed it as well.

Never diminish what you do, and never make yourself small. Make and create boldly.