Embracing Becoming as I Follow the Path Forward To Where I Am

Following the Light in Big Sky Country

This past week at the Chico Review has already made me realize that the ground is shifting and I’m heading into unknown territory, which I always welcome. Perhaps it is because I am an Aries, or that I’m the daughter of a philosopher, or that I’ve always had insatiably curiosity, but one thing I know is that I am always traveling new roads when it comes to my work, even when I return to the same place over and over again. And though I will continue my explorations of old growth forests and other natural areas, I know that the way I do so and the work I do will change. That is appropriate as the only certainty in life is that nothing stays the same, so I believe my work should evolve either in tandem or opposition to what unfolds around and within me. For example, when I see disturbing trends like escalating climate change, I often make work that shows it’s affects, but when the outside world feels too negative and overwhelming, I focus on uplifting things so I don’t give up living or creating.

Wild Grasses Dancing in the Light While a Storm Lingers on the Horizon

On our day off, I took a hike along the mountain bike trail (since going into the woods alone is not recommended due to grizzly bears). It turned out that this trail afforded stunning views of the sky and mountains that ring the area, and contained lots of unique vegetation too. The wind was starting to blow in anticipation of the winter storm that hit us the next day. Yet despite all these looming threats, the grasses still danced in the breeze as the light lit them up in a magical way. My walks are always moving meditations and this being mid week in the review, I was able to reflect on the ups and downs of it all. I’d just had a fantastic massage and the masseuse, who worked for the venue and suspected I was at the photography review, had suddenly asked if it didn’t make us all feel quite vulnerable to have our work viewed and criticized by so many people. Most of us, had experienced had least one comment that unexpectedly rocked our confidence in what we’d been doing, so I quickly replied, “absolutely.”

At first, I couldn’t decide if I was one firm ground wondering if the storm was going to hit sooner than expected, or if I was being sucked into some vortex where I would become totally disoriented or even annihilated. Then I realized it didn’t matter. The storm, or dissolution of my ego, was going to come eventually. It always does when I shift to a new stage, and I knew that my work usually gets better when that happens even though it makes me uneasy. Whenever I do something for too long in the same way, that is when the feeling and ultimately the meaning gets sucked out of it. If I become too comfortable in my work, I might take the easy way out instead of intuiting my way into some unexpected discovery. But like the grasses, letting go of what I thought I knew didn’t mean I had to stop joyfully swaying in the wind or delighting in the experience of creating or sharing less than perfect creations. It ultimately wasn’t about judgment and whether my work was good or bad, especially since reviewers opinions often varied, it was about releasing my grasp on preconceived ideas and trying new ways. It was about allowing myself to get lost, so I could find myself where I am in the present moment on another level of awareness. Ultimately, who we were and who we are becoming is an inseparable continuum that contains the whole spectrum of our existence and our creativity. We may just not have tapped into aspects of ourselves yet, and our work reflects this.

Everywhere I looked, nature was responding to the light and atmospheric conditions. The trees also seemed to be dancing, though with the clouds this time. A foot of snow or more was forecast to drop in the next few days, and I wondered if plants like animals might have some premonition about what might happen, but that did not stop them from poking up through the existing snow to soak in the rays. They were showing me how to celebrate in uncertain times, to embrace what is in this moment because the storm was not here yet. They had what it took to survive right now. But tomorrow the conditions would be different and they might need to respond in other ways, like the leaves of the rhododendrons back home that close in on themselves and huddle together in frigid temperatures evoking memories of Antarctic penguins. I stopped feeling nervous and like I needed to hold onto some preconceived idea or framework. My attachment to the ground and plants lightened too and I was able to back up a bit. Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid of tomorrow and how I was going to have to change or evolve to create work that steadied me in the world with all its fractures and potentially seismic shifts that could erupt at anytime. The world has become a pressure cooker, but there are also places like this where it is possible to step out for a moment and consider the possibility of a more transcendent perspective, an epiphany about the world we inhabit and even my own self.

Plants and Peaks, Chico Hot Springs

I looked in another direction and the landscape opened up. I took a deep breath. Where I was seemed more than enough and I was beyond grateful to have a body that was still able to hike and the courage to stand on this ridge and take it all in. The path forward wasn’t taking me to a new me or a new world, it was bringing me to where I was but with deeper understanding and appreciation. Yes, there are many awful things happening in the world right now–so much prejudice and unkindness and violence, and I truly wish that something could be done to improve the human condition so that we would not destroy what we touch and each other. I often worry about the legacy we are leaving our children and if my work in any way makes a positive contribution and motivates even one person to care a little more. I even wonder if I can lessen my own footprint and if my work and travel is so environmentally toxic that it negates any positive messages about the beauty inherent in the wilderness and its own biological legacies. But standing here I recognized that all these worries were parts of my ego that I need to let go of sometimes, so that I can listen to what the land itself is saying and appreciate its beauty and healthy aspects as well as the threats I see looming. Being on the brink of a sixth extinction has telescoped time and the planes of our existence often seem to collapse in on themselves. Everything seems so urgent and we feel pressured to come up with the answers immediately, or worse get so anxious we turn a blind eye despite definitely needing to move faster with respect to climate change and our dwindling resources. Yet, if we remember that we only know for certain what exists in the moment (and we’re often blind to even that if the chatter in our minds is too loud), and breathe, we can expand space enough to make room for information gleaned from lessons learned in the past and the germ of what we might know in the future into our present awareness and create better outcomes and perhaps even better art. The process of becoming includes the entire spectrum of our lives. As John Kabat Zinn so astutely noted, “Wherever you go, there you are.”