Breathing into Unanswered Questions

Breathing into her unanswered questions. Reading these words my heart opened and softened. Instantly, I was eager to read the rest of the passage. You’ll find it below. But the wisdom and insight of opening lines were enough in the moment. Instead of feeling small & lost, the words returned me to feeling Rebecca-sized and seen.

A quick update

It’s been a busy summer for me. Last week I enjoyed a break, but since the term ended I’ve been working in the studio three days out of every seven. The solo exhibit, also known as my thesis show, looms large and I have an ambitious list of work to create. Did I mention the army of cast glass pill bottles?[gallery type="slideshow" size="large" ids="4926,4919,4924,4925,4918,4923,4920,4921,4922,4927"]Dusty, messy, repetitive, the physical work of mixing plaster and making investment exists next to the invisible work of thinking. In other words, when silica and plaster are not clinging to the sweat behind my neck, elbows and knees, I'm mentally entertaining and rearranging other ideas and how to birth them in three dimensions. Early in July, all of that mental entertaining slammed me cheek to jowl against a crisis of confidence. 

The Thief of Joy

Part of this sprang from my old nemesis: comparing myself to others. This never ends well. I’m pretty good at avoiding this poison, but occasionally I see someone shining and forget the danger of comparisons. Kathy Gray is my most recent measure. She is the graduate advisor for the MFA program at Cal State San Bernardino, where I study, and one of my committee members. In short, she rocks! This year I learned there's more to admire: Kathy is one of the top four glass artists. In. The. World. No wonder she’s the expert evaluator on the totally binge-worthy Netflix series Blown Away. When you dedicate thirty years to honing your craft, that’s what can happen. Kathy and I are about the same vintage. We are both artists. The similarity ends there. My career is just beginning. For more of Kathy's work CLICK HERE.For a few days I wondered, If I work hard, will I be a recognized expert when I’m 87?

Ordinary

Another ingredient to my crisis of confidence is a long-held belief about what (who) is ordinary. For example, I’ll think, If I do this thing—bake bread, journal, cast glass, create things—it must be common. Unremarkable. Ordinary. It may be generative. It may be healing. It may be good.But if I do it, it is not special. When I sit with this thought and examine it, I see that what I’m really thinking is, I am ordinary.The root of this thought takes some patience and courage to find, but when I did sit with it, truth hits: Being ordinary was once a survival tactic. When I was growing up, being ordinary was another name for fitting in. A way to placate a nervous mother who often warned, Don't draw attention to yourself. In school, no one wanted to be called out as a different, weird, a show off. I kept my head down to avoid the sneer, She thinks she’s so great!This avoidance evolved into a twisted humility. Pride was called a sin. I didn’t know how to frame honest joy (pride) in my ideas, my work, myself AND avoid the sin of pride. Fear and guilt tarnished any joy in accomplishment and the simple pleasure of self-awareness. I learned to stay small. I hid my light under a basket. In part to save my soul, in part to save others the trouble of being discomfited by my confidence and joy. After years of playing small, I faced the possibility that my work would be futile, ordinary, meaningless.

Get out of the Echo Chamber and Breathe

I had to get out of the echo chamber of my own thoughts. Thankfully, I have a number of solid sounding boards. I sat down and talked to several wise women. The first was my committee chair, Alison. It all came out in a rush. Crisis of confidence. Starting so late. Does my work matter? Who cares?Here’s a paraphrased summary of what Alison said—

“I feel this every single day. (I love her for this achingly honest response!) The occasional, or frequent crisis of confidence is baked into life as a creative, or life as anyone moving through a daily dance with uncertainty and risk.

We risk every single day. This is our normal.

Accounting. IT. Nursing. Factory work. Business. Many other professions have expected outcomes along with clearly articulated best practices for achieving them. They have predictable ways to get from here to there. They may face occasional risk, but not every effing day.

However, work springing from personal expression, searching for meaning, sharing experiences—the work I call art—refuses to trade in certainties. 

We don’t know if our ideas will work. Once made real, we don’t know if the work will resonate with our audience. We have no idea if our work will endure. We don’t know. But we show up and do it anyway.”

Put another way, every artist worth her salt is breathing into her unanswered questions.

Who’s Ordinary

Alison also reminded me that few people in their 50’s pursue MFA degrees. For that matter, not many people of any age do. Strictly by the numbers, I am not ordinary. Beyond numbers, there’s the realm of ideas. I see myself as a visual philosopher. I carry ideas in my head, some like baby birds and some like greased chimpanzees. Then I try to translate them into visual thinking. My ideas are personal. My thinking is original. There’s nothing ordinary about it.

Breathe out loud (talk to your people)

Here’s the treasure in telling the truth when someone asks me, How’s it going? I access incredible wisdom and generosity. Alison is just one of my go-to people. Since my last essay, I’ve tapped into a chorus of open hearts (aka friends). This chorus includes other artists, but also friends and family. Each person listens well and offers her perspective with incredible generosity. Thank you Beverly, Kris, Suzanne, Justin, Becky and Leilani. Thank you Ken, Tim, Frank. Special shout out to Leilani for reading the passage by Sukhvinder Sircar and thinking of me!Here’s the entire passage:

She is traveling between worlds right now. You can see her holding the tension of not knowing. She is simply breathing into her unanswered questions. Sometimes she drinks her coffee with quaking hands, not knowing where her relationship or her bank account is going. But this time, she is holding onto the tension of not knowing, and is not willing to hit the panic button. She is unlearning thousands of years of conditioning. She is not being split between the opposing forces of fight and flight. She is neither naïve nor ignorant. She is a frontier woman, paving new roads & making new choices. She is willing to make a new transcendent possibility emerge. You may see her now, standing at thresholds, or at crossroads, breathing into her body and intently listening for inner signals.” ~ Sukhvinder Sircar

Perhaps you are holding onto the tension of not knowing, you see the panic button, but choose not to hit it. My hope is that you encounter those who see you now, standing at thresholds, or at crossroads, breathing into her body and intently listening for inner signals.I know it can make all the difference 💖