Standing on the Edge

Standing on the Edge

A friend told me he purchased a spotless detailed, beautiful red 1957 Chevy with chrome wheels from a widow. My friend’s comment to her was “Your late husband must have spent hundred of hours on this car.”

Her response was, “Yes, he did. I wished I had the time spent.”

When I heard this, it nailed me to the wall. I knew I had been guilty of the same thing; spending more time with the things I love to do rather than spending time with the ones I love.

I believe we all live in our own forest; thick green mangled foliage of creativity. It is also called self-centeredness. We haven’t entered into other’s lives or their story because we are so attached to ours.

I am sure many people around me have felt the same way as the widow felt. I am guilty and I am not sure how to change. I am not sure if I want to come out of my deep luscious forest I’ve created for myself. I like it how it is.

I can’t see the trees for the forest or is it, I can’t see the forest for the trees? I’ve laughed when I said it and thought I needed to step away from my all –encompassing life. I get so attached, and in so doing I have become detached from others I love.

Apparently the widow saw more clearly than her husband did, but it was too late.

In order to be attached to the moment, to be aware of the lives of those who we genuinely care about, we must enter into their story; their problems and joy and even be willing to be a part of their solution. We are determined to read life as we see it instead of feeling the spirit of the moment. It’s a great way to escape from reality, but it also presents another problem, self-absorption.

Self-absorption is the wall I have built around me. I realized I have done this to people. This is an edge. It takes time to get involved into another’s life. I rather be writing and painting than be the answer for someone else’s problem. As I write this, I wonder if I want to change.

We can remain in the forest, live among the trees and not see them, or we can step outside the forest, into the edge of a bigger opening, where we can see clearly before it is too late.

Everyone has their edge, they come up to it and change their mind. We have a choice to stay dwarfed by the trees or move out into the clearing.

Life will put us in the moment and on the edge of something we haven’t done before. As we choose to step inside the moment we experience something new. We push through the fear and find the thrill.

As we enter into someone else’s story, and become a part of the way life has written their book, we get a better view of them and ultimately ourselves.

The widow sold the car her late husband left behind. It was not that important to her. She would have rather had a few more minutes with him. Someone else is driving his car and enjoying the time he spent.

Final Brushstroke! The edge will take us to the end of ourselves and the beginning of someone else and it will always bring a new horizon.

A Hook in the Tree

Aspen trees grow in families. Just try to dig one up; their roots go from one to another. Where the first tree was planted and where the other ends, it is anyone’s guess. Aspen trees are hard to come out of the ground, their roots interlock deep below the surface.

I recently showed a painting of aspen trees with gold leaves on my Facebook. I painted it in a series and called it The Message Trees. I didn’t think much about it; I was just categorizing my paintings on my Blog when a friend e-mailed me.

She sent a copy of an old photograph of herself standing by a tree holding onto a large hook that had been embedded into it. She writes, “This is proof that my family has been here.”

My friend, receiving my Facebook update shared her story with me. “Every fourth of July since 1950, myself, my husband and four children have gone to the church camp in Chama, New Mexico, then we added one by one our grandchildren. We camped out, cooked outside, making homemade tortillas and beans. We screwed a large hook in one of the trees and hung our mirror on it, and now years later, memories. Every year we looked for the old tree with the peg and made our camp site there. In amazement, one of the family members will always say, “The hook is still here!”

I fired back a thought to my friend. “That peg you are holding onto is holding your children and grandchildren close to your heart. They will remember those days. It’s their history; it’s just a hook in a tree, but it gives them a deep belonging. It is a hook they can hang their hats on and call home.

The Message Trees I painted are familiar to many of the old timers, who remember stories of the days when the cattleman drove their cattle along a pathway from New Mexico into Colorado. They left messages in the trees for others coming that way. The dates goes back to the 1800’s.

Lovers carved hearts into the trees with their initials. An arrow showed a direction for someone to follow, and others have written their signatures, saying, “I was here.”

Did they know when they made their mark on the side of a tree, it would be the conversation today? I don’t think so. They were doing what they do; herding cattle from New Mexico to Colorado. I just remembered seeing an article written about these trees, it struck me and I knew I needed to paint them.

The trees are still standing and growing today and the cuts in their bark witness stories of years ago when passer-bys left their history for others to see. I am sure if anyone has passed by recently, they will be tempted to carve their initials too.

My friend and the Lucero Family only knew to do what they needed to do to preserve their family. They weren’t thinking of leaving a hook in a tree as a legacy which has remained over sixty years, they were just being family, loving and caring for each other.

Today, when anyone talks to the family they still talk about Chama, the jokes come out about each other and all the memories. I can hear Benny ask, “Is that hook still in that tree?”

This family has gone many ways and lived in many places across the Southwest. I have known and loved this family for over twenty-one years. I have seen the harsh winds come insisting on pulling their family down and their roots up. This family is rooted, connected, and have interlocked themselves with each other. They are family. When the mention of Chama comes up, it is one of the ways of saying, “We belong and have roots in the Lucero Family.”

As families we have all left hooks in trees. They are those places in our hearts where we have met with each other, joked, laughed, cried and just been family. It is a blessing for me to stand along side The Lucero Family's Tree. I am blessed. Hopefully this article is carving a remembrance of their roots and a strong conviction for the next generation to live their legacy for others to see.

The tree with the hook still stands today. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. If you are walking along the Chama River, you might witness it and wonder, “What is that tree doing with that hook? Someone has been here.”

Final Brushstroke! Just as we look back on those message trees that stood silently along the cattlemen’s pathway, we are still sending messages in an obscured way. We are linked and connected together just like a family of aspen trees.

In the Eye of the Beholder

It’s time to get out the winter clothes. I was transferring summer clothes into the upstairs’ closet and bringing the winter ones down. My eye fell on the ugliest article in my closet, an old, extra large, long, overstuffed polyester, tan coat with paint stains. I wondered, Should I keep it for another year? The answer is Yes! I’m not ready to let it go.

I laughed when I saw it and thought; now that’s an article to write about, nobody wanted that coat but me. A few years ago I found this beauty as a bargain. It was new and perfect for what I needed. I seized it before anyone could lay hands on it. I knew it would be the perfect coat to wear to the football games. It was one of those one-size-fits-all and I am sure it made me look fifty pounds heavier than I am.

In my excitement I showed it to my family and I was willing to lend it to any of my daughters. To my surprise, none of them wanted it.

“It looks like it belongs to a bag lady.”

Another one spouted her opinion about my coat. “This is the most incredibly ugly thing I ever saw,”

Another one popped off, rolling her eyes, raising her eyebrows for the others to see, “Mother, you keep it, I have a coat. I would rather freeze.”

I defended the coat, “It was a bargain and it’s going to be warm this winter.”

Apparently no one saw the beauty I saw. It wasn’t about how it looked, it was what it meant to me; it exuded comfort, warmth and it would be the perfect coat for what I needed.

I threw it on the coat rack and every time I walked out the door, through three feet of snow, to my studio, I’d wear it. On chilly days in the cold when I painted, it was perfect. Oh, I dragged my sleeves in the paints and dripped paint and coffee on the front, but that’s what was so good about it. I didn’t have to be careful, I could be myself. It was what I needed.

I took it with me to the games, just to use as a blanket. The family snickered when I packed it in. But as the air got frosty and the metal stadium seats got colder, every one wanted to wrap up in my ugly coat. They begged me for it, but I resisted. It’s mine. It’s not up for grabs any more.

This immediately brought an idea; beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We usually see the beauty and usefulness of something when we need it. Otherwise, we just as soon discard it, which brings me to my heart felt prayer for my friends whose marriages are in trouble and up for grabs.

Recently I heard of four couples separating and I felt a heavy thump. Someone said they had counted over 59 divorces in Pagosa over the past year. Pagosa couples are in trouble. Al and I have had our struggles at times and I understand.

Pagosa seems to bring discontentment out in people. I don’t know if it is the cold, the mud, the lack of money or jobs, isolation and sheer boredom, or maybe just thinking the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. All these things work against these precious marriages and family units. What about the children? Somehow along the way; the beauty in the eye of the beholder diminishes.

All the years, Al and I have had to forgive, accept each other and love in spite of each other, and I am amazed, my sweet Al still sees me beautiful. The wrinkles in my face, my bending posture, my flannel gown and that old bag-lady coat doesn’t seem so important.

He still sees me as I was in my youth. He thinks I should wear my hair in a ducktail like I did when I was seventeen; three inch heels to accentuate my ankles; short skirts and tanned legs with bright toe nail polish. I just roll my eyes and think, “Oh Al, you have the most beautiful heart, you only see me beautiful.”

There is something predictable about Al and me. We do not see age creeping up; we see love, warmth, comfort and perfect companionship. And no, I’m not wearing three inch heels in three feet of snow or mini skirts with my white legs. I still throw on that ugly coat, but when evening comes and we are together, it makes it alright.

How do couples get into trouble? Do they need to look back to those days when their eyes looked on that one that was young, beautiful and full of life? That one who made them laugh; and brought the best out of them. Have they just lost sight of their first love?

And, maybe I am meddling, I hope not, but my heart is heavy for you my friends. Is it possible we need to take a look at ourselves and at our children? Don’t put your marriage up for grabs, you do not know who might end up with your treasure and raise your children. Think again. It will truly be a cold winter.

Final Brushstroke! There is nothing wrong with your mate that a loving heart can’t fix. Maybe ugly has crept into YOUR heart and you can’t see the treasure in front of you.

Is Anyone Listening? Impacting lives

Water in the Wilderness 15 X 30 Oil

Is anyone listening?

In 1960, Al and I were young, full of ambition and ready to set our life’s career in motion. We attended a sales meeting for his company in Vail, Colorado. Insurance salesmen were immaculately dressed to impress, wearing $300 suits, long sleeve white shirts with gold cuff links and a perfect knotted tie. And of course, their shoes were shined.

As Al always contended, “No one will buy from you if you have run over shoes with a hole in them. You have to look successful.”

Salesmen came from all over the region and were blowing and going; shouting rah, rah, rah and quoting slogans of Positive Mental Attitude. They stood in a circle known as the Round Robin and yelled with enthusiasm, “I feel healthy, I feel happy, I feel terrific.” Al and I bought it all. We chased the carrot.

An older, white-haired gentleman was invited to speak. Nearly twice the age of any one in the room, he modestly wore a white starched shirt with an opened neck, minus a tie and jacket. He stood out as one who didn’t belong with the up and coming crowd. He had already arrived. He had the confidence of success. He didn’t have to impress. He already knew who he was.

He came to the front and spoke. The rowdy bunch of salesmen quieted themselves for a few moments and then yelled, “Yes we do!” But they really didn’t.

I leaned forward to hear more, he had something worthwhile to say. But in the midst of so much hype, no one seemed to hear him. Speaker after speaker continued building and plumping up the salesmen. They all had the answer as to how to make their millions.

The gentleman’s words were established deeply in me. He wore success on the inside. I knew I wanted what he had and I also wanted something worthwhile to say one day. I wanted words with grit which would go beyond the hype just as his words did for me.

Would people ever lean forward, cup their ear, just to hear me say something of value?

Quite the contrary, I have laughingly made the comment many times over the years, “I know how to empty a room. When I start to talk, everyone scatters. I don’t know what it is.”

The trip I went on recently was no exception. I felt I shared some deep things, thoughts of great worth; but I noticed no one prompted any interest to carry the conversation any further. What is with this? What’s the problem?

I remembered the older gentleman who stood before a rowdy bunch of insurance salesmen. He didn’t have to strut his stuff; he knew he had a lot more on the inside, but he probably wondered if anyone was listening or if anyone even cared as he packed up his briefcase in disbelief. He might have discounted an eighteen year old wife of a hotshot salesman in the audience.

Well, Al and I grabbed the carrot; the gentleman’s words lay dormant for many years in both of us. We continued to do what we were programmed to do. Al drove a new black Porsche. He left our family every Monday morning and came home every Friday night for over eighteen years. We had money in the bank, a big house and a noisy life of success, and it almost destroyed our family. In all that noise I have never let go of the words, “Do YOU know YOURSELF?”

Final Brushstroke! Is anyone listening? A person can impact lives without knowing it. I am thankful for the man who had the courage to speak truth.