The Meeting
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

After so long an absence
At last we meet agin:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?

The tree of life has been shaken,
And but few of us linger now,
Like the prophets two or three berries
In the top of the uppermost bough.

We cordially greet each other
In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown!

We speak of a Merry Christmas
And many a Happy New Year;
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.

We speak of friends and their fortunes,
And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
And the living alone seem dead.

And at last we hardly distinguish
Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
Steals over our merriest jests.

What is it about change that makes us so uneasy, so uncomfortable at the very thought of doing something differently then we've done it all along? When I was younger my mom used to say of me "it's always taken you a while to change gears" and I agreed with her because I had to. I used to hate when things would change. One memory that comes to mind is how I felt when JP left Los Angeles, the way I stood in the street out by her moving truck in the fog (or was it sunny?) too afraid to say goodbye. I knew, of course, that we would stay best friends, that Arizona wasn't far away, that it was the right time for her to go. On every level I understood that - but my heart was hurting and when I went back to the apartment her empty bathroom drawers felt just like death.

Since that very day,however, all sorts of things have changed. I've learned a new way of being alive, discovered a sense of peace I never new existed. I've done the work. Hard, back breaking, soul searching work and these days I can honestly say I know I've changed my life. Still every morning when I wake up I understand that I must practice, that there are some things I can live with, and some things that I can't. I know that I have to stay as present as I can inside the moment as it happens, that I have to allow the people around me to come and go as they please, to evolve at their very own rates. I know that my temper won't tame anyone, and that when you love someone asking them to change for you in any way might actually be the thing that kills them.

I try my best to sit with the messy suffering of myself and all the people that I love even though so much of me knows it's no longer necessary, or as important as it once seemed. We get to make these tiny choices , and everyday we start again. We get to choose to put our finances in order, to schedule our daily lives accordingly, to run our businesses and make our art and tell our stories with integrity and trust. We get to wake up and eat the right things and take the right walks, run the right miles, hold the pose for long enough to make it work. We get to talk to eachother when we're afraid, we get to tell the truth. We get to pray if we should want to, to God, the moon, the water. We can choose to be kind when we feel slighted, sweet when we feel sour. We don't have to complain, we don't have to stay stuck in the mud of our endless unhappiness if we don't want to. Tiny choices. EVERYWHERE.

I know. None of this is new to us, we all know this. We know that change is good. That when something stops serving its ulitmate purpose we have the right to let it go and move into something different, something new we probably need. But we resist, we fight like animals to protect our indecision and our disease. We work so hard at keeping things exactly like they are because somewhere along the line we've been taught that this is easy, that change is the hard thng, that staying put must not hurt as much this. But I don't think I believe that anymore, I look at my life now and see the rough places where things aren't really working and I strive to make them right. Not right in any old and overused sense of the word, but right as in good for me, good for us, full of joy, cleaned up, clear. I used to need the mess to make the art, to make sense of the love I felt for messy people who couldn't love me back, as an excuse for all the things I told myself that I could never do.

This morning I was so mad at Jeremy because he would not do something that I asked him to do, something I have told him countless times I think I need. I wanted to scream and fight and make my point but instead I just decided to save him the last and lonely cookie sitting at the bottom of the jar. Just like that I am not angry, I feel changed. I'm born again.

Isn't this video the most amazing thing you've ever seen? Everyday I'm amazed at the mere fact that people MAKE things. An idea sprouts, they get to work and the next thing you know - THIS. Julia and I were discussing last night how delightful Mr. Fox was and how hard everyone was on Where The Wild Things Are (which we both loved) and I was saying that the entire time I was watching I was crying because I was so moved and envious and excited by the thought of all the work it took to make that movie - all the creative craftmanship and skill. All I saw up on that gigantic screen in that empty theater was a great big beautiful collaborative art project, the hands of hundreds of brilliant people making something HUGE. What else were people looking for - what more could people need?

Jeremy headed up North yesterday morning for a show and I had the day all to myself. In an instant I was missing him, wishing he was home with me, my most prized and precious partner in crime. I got to painting anyway and wrapped up a strange little piece (I'm not too sure about)to add to the series that I am preparing for St.Louis - a collection I've fallen quickly and madly in love with. Painting for home is the most amazing process - I can see the folks more clearly, have a better idea of who might make the trip to visit the show and I am doing my best to create an artistic environment that they will appreciate. I don't think I've been this excited for a show in my entire life. Home is where the heart is and I can't wait to share my art!

Speaking of home, something's come up and we've decided we will be spending the holidays in Los Angeles. At first I was pretty disappointed because Christmas at home has always been so important to me. The naked trees and big grey skies, the way your fingers freeze when you're out walking. I am far from your typical Californian -I miss the winter and the rain, something's missing without the seasons. I spent a few days brokenhearted until I picked up the brush and started painting (remembering that I'll be home in February!) and now I've moved into a better place of looking forward to a sleepy Christmas day with Jeremy, movies and presents and steak and lobster and chocolate cake with ice cold Hendricks and Tonic! I think we'll be okay :)

I'm off to the gym and then home to the kitchen studio where I hope to get back to work but there's three episodes in a row of Law&Order on so I think I might be stuck.

TONIGHT! TONIGHT!

INFINITY
CREATE:FIXATE’S 8 YEAR ANNIVERSARY!
Saturday, December 5th, 2009 7pm - 2am : Gallery Preview 4-7pm
Premiere Events Center : 613 Imperial St., Los Angeles, CA
$15 Admission before 10pm/$20 after
Gallery Preview $5 suggested donation

let's go

Like you, I move in and out of stages quickly, forgetfully, often. One day I'm certain all is well, that we will, in fact, make it in Los Angeles as working artists, that everything we've ever dreamed is coming true. At other times I am beyond certain that the whole wide world is laughing at us, that we are the only ones who never got the memo: dreamchasing's overrated. Get a real job. Stop acting like a child.

I look at so many other people I've known since we were kids, so many people I felt I shared this same artistic vision with (when we grow up lets make art and move to New York and California and change the way the world works! Lets make films and write novels and make the perfect music with our bands!) and I see that they have taken other routes -gotten seriously amazing big time jobs, married highschool sweethearts, built beautiful families from scratch. Facebook has brought me right into the (HUGE) livingrooms of so many people I admire and at times it's left me feeling ashamed and so uncertain. How is it that I can barely pay my bills when so many of my friends are getting their kitchen's remodeled? What do they know that I never learned? Is any of this daydream that I see inside my head even possible?

I look back at the last few years and see myself overcome with endless doubt, embarrassed at all I've yet to to/own/accomplish (yes, I say "own" because I mean it. There are certain things I'd love to one day own: a new car with 4 real hubcaps, a house with more then one room. I'm not being greedy or losing sight of what's real. I'm simply trying to be honest.) I see myself as slightly chubby (not anymore! where in the world did those 17 pounds go??) and unhappy, working on some things along the way, heavy with a head jam packed with insecurity. I hear the worried conversations that I've had, talk of bank accounts and pride. I see myself borrowing money from the people who love me, having to ask again and again for help.

Something happened when I decided to enroll in this UCLA Writer's Program. It's like the concrete inside me cracked wide open, and like Cohen says, that's where the light got in. All of the sudden, out of the clear blue skies of taking a GIGANTIC leap toward something you've always wanted, my head is feeling more clear then it ever has, offering up all sorts of good and practical ideas. I feel open to the possibility that all of this is actually working out just fine, that all of these boys and towns and jobs and blogs and stories and paintings and photos have led me here, right to this amazing moment in the history of me, where I am feeling good about all my decisions and making progress, in the divine presence of quite a few truly magical things: faith, grace, prosperity and hope.

I think the time for doubt is over. I bid a fond farewell to those dark and scary parts of me I know that I no longer need. I step into the kitchen studio and continue working on my series for my St.Louis show in March. I begin to turn all these notes and thoughts and scribblings into a screenplay. I go out and get a christmas tree. I make my first real pie.

On Monday I stood with my paintings in the huge gallery space where this weekend's Create Fixate will be and I looked at all the work of other amazing and talented artists (seriously, this is my favorite group so far!) - so thrilled to be a part of something so important. 1500 art loving people will walk those floors this weekend and somewhere close to the backdoor, hanging high up on a floating wall is me. My friend Carrie mentioned the other day how when we were young I always said one day I'd be in California. I always knew that this was home, just the place where I should be. I've always believed that I was going to spend my lifetime as an artist, making little gifts to give back to the world that's given so fucking much to me.

As we move toward the hope of this amazing new year I plan on letting some things go, in the hopes of strenghthening some others. I am going to do my best to hold steady in the truth that this universe is wildly abundant, that God's creative mind has a master plan for me, that I can be and have all the good things that I want. I'm going to practice everyday at making art and telling stories, I'm going to retire the tired talk of "can't" and "might not ever" and stay in brave courageous action. Rilke said, HERE THERE IS NOTHING THAT DOES NOT SEE YOU. YOU MUST CHANGE YOUR LIFE and once more, with excitement, I accept that invitation.