“Happy being small” | pointed brush, sumi ink & watercolor | L Doctor Sketchbook

This morning I looked out my window at the very small garden, well garden is still an imagined thing — but the new soil has just been added, and the string to determine what is level. I had no idea that this patch of bare dirt and string would be a playground for the baby birds! A fluffy fledgling Carolina wren is turning somersaults in the dust and then hopping up on the string as if it is her very own tightrope. When I sat down I was in a melancholy mood, but after watching this display, it is a very different sort of day.

Later I went to see Frankie York, the owner of New Editions Gallery. I told her stories of talking with other artists about how lucky we are to work with her. The privilege of having someone in charge of our work who cares about both the work and the artist who made it. Someone whose gift is creating the exhibit by transforming the atmosphere in the room until the space itself is also part of the art. Someone who is interested in each person that walks in the door. What Frankie said in response to my admiration was not what I was expecting…. “I think we are all tied together”, she said, “because we are happy being small.” This touched me, that phrase happy being small, and I have been thinking about it ever since.

We left off in the last post saying how difficult it is to walk into your own light, into being your best self. (It’s so much easier for me to complain, worry and make excuses!) What Frankie reminded me is how gladdening it is when I can shift perspective and discard what is not genuine in me — for example, reaching for fame instead of compassion, or trying to be like someone else, or doing something to impress the crowd. I know when I am at my center, it has an effortless quality. And I know what pulls me off center — when I get seduced by some accolade or achievement that has me reaching for a fantasy instead of who I am: a simple artist who is content not being in New York. By this I don’t mean that the reaching toward the horizon, having a vision, isn’t part of it — but more that I want to face in the direction toward belonging. I know I am on the right track when I am in touch with the best I have to offer, no matter how small or insignificant it seems. (I know that small is generally more genuine than when I feel I have something big). I am aligned when I feel my devotion to the unknown and my longing to have an offering, to have something to give you.

“We make something holy by the kind of attention we give it.” — (Scrap found while tidying up in my studio).

Now I see that where we left off last time — walking toward our own light through the lit corridor — that this is the same as walking toward belonging — that being myself and belonging are the same. When I don’t feel like I belong, when I feel left out, unacknowledged or ignored, I can shift my awareness from wanting attention to finding something that I can give undivided attention to. Something I am curious about, that gives me pleasure, like that little Carolina wren rolling in the dirt. It could be a tree, a dream, something I am making, another person or listening to birdsong. Whatever the subject of attention might be, there is a freedom and relief that comes with the shift to giving attention instead of needing to receive it. This move turns in the direction of belonging. It is fed by my devotion to what I cannot see and a desire to welcome whatever comes.

What has captured your undivided attention? Where do you find delight? I’d love to hear from you.