Crazy ass math + a birthday wish

Initially, when you ask a kid what their favorite subject in school is, the majority of them say math, even if you’ve totally pegged them as a literature lover. When pressed about why math is their favorite, some will say they like working through a problem and trying to figure out the solution. Ah, true math lovers. But most will say, “I like being able to find the right answer.” 

Ain’t that the truth? We all like to know, without a shadow of doubt in our mind, that our answer...our choice... is right. But, of course, how often does that actually get to happen in real life? In my opinion, that’s why some cling to the exact words of the Bible, leaving no room for interpretation or for other religious beliefs. It gives them a sense that some things are black and white, right and wrong, no gray area, full stop. And that gives them comfort. I don’t blame them. There are so many things in my life where I wish I could just work it out like a math problem on a piece of notebook paper and boom, there is my final answer. No hesitation. No doubt. I can even go back and double check my work. Reverse the problem and ah, see, completely correct. 

But then I think about the feeling of intuition. When something is so strongly felt intuitively, it feels like a math problem that has been solved. At least to *you* it does. That feeling that even if someone were to tell you that you were wrong, you would fire back confidently that they were mistaken, even with no work on a piece of notebook paper or a Bible verse to prove it. You just...know. 

Like if someone were to tell me what I saw and felt when my dad passed away didn’t really happen, I would let them believe in their personal truth, but it wouldn’t deter mine one tiny bit. Woah, now that’s some crazy ass math. Two possible truths. Depending on the person who is solving the problem. Depending on personal experience, perspective, the wiring of the brain, personality, heart, soul. Sounds like the making of a complete character in a book.

Thirty three years ago today, I know I was born with a strong intuition. It’s there. It’s usually loud. It’s always felt. But, all these years later, I still struggle often to trust it completely. My confidence fails. I hesitate. I overthink. I look at how other people are doing it and wonder if that way is better or I want to know what they think of my way. I wish there were more moments where my intuition was unshakable. I wonder...how do I work on that part of the problem? 

Oh, yeah... ART. 

A birthday wish: Tell me about a time where your intuition was loud and clear, unshakeable.

A digital art piece. Working digitally on a sketchbook allows me the ability to easily pick up where I left off, try several different techniques and colors with ease, create many versions, problem solve through difficulties, practice trusting my intuition in a safe zone, and the best part for this pregnant, soon to be mama…no clean up.

Finding My Way Back

My life story (so far) in a nutshell…

I was born in Midland, Texas. Crazy story, actually. I was delivered by a doctor, who had only one hand, after bursting a major vein inside my mom because I was so ready to come out. All back-up was called, 300 internal stitches, and 4 units of blood. It was the late 80’s so she had to be tested for AIDS for 10 years afterwards. My sister always tells me that she wasn’t surprised I had to make such a dramatic entrance into the world. (She secretly loves me.) 

Fast forward to growing up in Amarillo and being a little girl in love with art. I would come home every day from school and go straight to the kitchen table to draw or paint. Art was, and still is, my happy place. I also loved to sing and dance. I would belt My Heart Will Go on or Don’t Rain on My Parade at the top of my lungs for hours (my sister also has some comments about that) or dance my heart out to some Spice Girls. My parents encouraged me to get involved in our local community theatre. As a kid, I had become quite shy, but soon realized that on stage, I could be someone else. I could be bold. I could be someone with all the confidence in the world. I performed in multiple productions at Amarillo Little Theatre, was a principal role one beautiful summer in TEXAS at Palo Duro Canyon, and after graduating high school early, performed on stage and in film/TV in Austin, Dallas, and Los Angeles for a few years. 

My whole world changed in 2010 when my dad passed away. I moved back to Austin from L.A. and tried to find my bearings, again. I knew I wasn’t happy with an acting career. It just didn’t fill my soul like it did when performing at my hometown theatre. I would still, from time to time, get out a journal or sketch pad and draw. I never thought of it as a career path though. It was simply my way of thinking through my thoughts. I decided to move back to Amarillo and go back to school. My mom and sister were educators in the school district, and because I loved working with kids, I decided to go to WTAMU to get my degree in Elementary Education. 

I taught in public school for only a few years before I realized what a need there was for art education in our district. I saw so many kids like me who needed an outlet to express their thoughts and process their emotions. Kids that struggled academically but had incredible artistic talent with no where to craft it. I decided I was going to become certified to be an art teacher for kindergarten through 12th grade. After that, I helped to start an art program that focuses on social and emotional learning at one of the public schools in town. I ultimately chose to leave teaching in public school to become a private art teacher and to open my business as an artist. 

So, long story short (somewhat), that’s where we are now. I’ve traded the kitchen table for an upstairs studio in our house where I live with my loving and supportive husband, David, and our two dogs, Corki and Goldie. I still perform locally at Amarillo Little Theatre and belt out and dance to some Babs or Sara Bareilles as I paint. Somehow, I have found my way back to where I started.

I read once that whatever your very first dream job was as a child is who you are meant to be. Do you remember it? I believe that’s your happy place. Your purpose. It might look a little different now, but do whatever you can to find your way back to it.

“…if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire, again…I shouldn’t look any further than my own backyard.”

- Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz

Like One

Heroes. We all have them. We all want to be one. And in our own way, we are. But we need help in reminding ourselves of that. We all wear our own capes each day. Just like we loved to do as kids. They just look different now. For some, it might be heels and a bold lip. Some it’s glasses. A baseball hat. Long, shiny nails. Gardening gloves. A mechanical pencil in your front pocket. A camera on your shoulder. The list goes on.  

When I was younger, I used to change my clothes a thousand times throughout the day...until it felt right. Just ask my mother about all the laundry. Now maybe it was some sort of unrelated OCD tendency I was working through as a kid, but I think I was just trying to find my cape. I listened to a podcast several months ago about how important it is that we find it, our own personal cape, and keep wearing it as adults because just like when we did it as kids, it gives us the power to believe we can do anything. Just like our hero can.

Think of someone you admire. Someone you know or someone who is famous. Alive or passed on. Think about what you admire about them. Think about one object that reminds you of them that you could wear or keep with you to help you embody their spirit. 

For me, it’s my jewelry. Most noticeably, my rings. You see, one of the most vivid memories I have of my grandmother, Mutti, is her hands. In fact, many people that knew her talk about her hands. I found myself always being captivated by her elegant yet strong hands covered in sleek, silver jewelry. She didn’t like anything too sparkly. Diamonds were not her best friend. She loved hand-crafted metals with turquoise. One of my biggest heroes is what we call in my family “a Robertson woman”...if you know us, you’ve undoubtedly heard that phrase. It stands for a woman who is strong willed, opinionated, artistic, educated, and caring. Sounds like a hero to me. Sounds like my grandmother. And my mom. And her sisters. 

Before my grandmother passed, she was only able to communicate with two words - “like one.” She suffered a stroke that left her with only those two words, for years. Occasionally, she would get out a few others, but she mainly used “like one” to say everything she needed to say. 

“How are you doing today?” I would ask. 

“Like one!” she would reply with a chuckle implying good I guess?

“Aren’t these flowers beautiful?” 

“LIKE OOONE!” she would say with such enthusiasm. 

She loved to watch CNN...constantly. Like most of the Robertson women, she was very involved with politics and being an active member of society. 

“Like one! Like one! Like one!!” She would say pointing at the screen when she wanted me to turn up the volume. 

“So, the election is coming up, who are going to vote for, Mutti?” 

“OBAMA.”  

I told you she could get a few important words out from time to time.  

One day growing up, probably around third grade, I was complaining to my mom about the appearance of my hands for some reason, I forget why. They just weren’t delicate and feminine enough in my small mind. And my mom said without hesitation, “I LOVE your hands! They look so artistic. Like Mutti’s. Like they are meant to create something.” 

I could cry just thinking about that moment even now. Really? My hands are like hers? 

And just like that, I had found my cape. I found a way to feel more like my hero. To be...like one.

Like One

30” x 40”

Oil and acrylic on canvas

Changing the Narrative in My Head

“When we repeat a story to everyone we meet, a story of pain and trial, with no transformation or resolution - this is a good indicator that the story is harming more than helping.” - Rising Woman

Over the past year of consistently creating art, I have found the process that feels the best artistically also matches the way I choose to observe life. I think of us (meaning me and you..a.k.a…the human race) as co-authors...or co-illustrators...whatever you fancy. In other words, we are given circumstances and situations that are sometimes beyond our control, but it is always up to us on how we choose to see them and how we respond. In my art process, I always start with a scribble and/or a free-flow form of paint, very similar to an experience in life that has just been thrown our way and is out of our control. During this first part, I try not to think or control it at all, but rather just allow whatever comes to come. The next step is to take pause to observe it. Then I choose to see beauty there and create a piece of art using those initial markings and shapes as my guide. Before I know it, an alchemy of personal transformation has occurred on the page and in my mind. I call this series of paintings, Mind Narratives. And now I’ve started to apply the same process to my bigger pieces on canvas. 

“Art is the world’s ability to investigate and have an intimate relationship with itself.” - Olafur Eliasson 

I have been told that it is my gift to see the good in everything, and I believe it is my purpose to share that with as many people as possible. My husband and I recently watched an Abstract episode about the brilliant artist Olafur Eliasson. He is known for using and creating light in his art. He says, “Everyone has the right to access light in the world,” and I agree with him. We all have the right and the ability to see the light...the good...and the choice to believe in it, even in the midst of darkness. But sometimes we might need a gentle push, a spark, or a piece of art to remind us. That’s my dream: To create pieces of art for people that symbolize our ability to face life’s trials and tribulations with a fighting spirit that says we refuse to give up. That the narrative in our mind will continue to see the good, the light in the world, regardless of how dark and scary it can be.  

Think of something difficult you’ve had to face, recently or in the past. Now think of one positive thing, however small, that came from it. Now try to think of two more. If you love a challenge, keep going. If you can’t think of anything, dig deeper. You’re better than that. 

Now before you go calling me a Pollyanna, and trust me, I’ve heard it many times before, hear me this way. 

“All that being positive means is you’ve chosen not to let what’s happening around you get the best of you. You have an unwavering strength and you won’t let the storm drown you.” 

So don’t see my art and my perception as just a way to see the world through rose colored glasses. See it as I do, a peaceful way to fight the good fight. If you want to change your tiny corner of the globe, or change the entire world as we know it, start with fighting the battle in your own head. 

“And yet at some point, we must become the hero of our journey, traverse the challenges we have set forth, and re-claim that we were powerful all along.” - Rising Woman 

Accept the situation given to you. Take pause to observe and see the good in it. Then, create beauty from it. Repeat. 

Moving Mountains

When I was a kid, my mom told me that I should always treat people with kindness because you never know what they could be going through. Little did she know she was igniting an unstoppable flame in my brain for the rest of my life. (Actually, she probably knew exactly what she was doing.) When I was teaching in public school, I would get work emails from her (she also worked for the school district at the time) and noticed she signed off each one with this quote:

“Everyone has a battle you know nothing about. Be kind, always.”

I think about it almost daily. Even when someone cuts me off in traffic… “Well, maybe they are rushing to the hospital to get to someone who is hurt …” or when a customer was ugly to me for no reason when I was working at Clinique… “Maybe she just lost her husband or something…” When a parent was rude when picking up their child thirty minutes late… “Maybe they don’t have money to make rent this month or they only have so much gas money left, and they are stressed to the max…”

Or maybe they are just unhappy and lost, trying to fight their way through this crazy ride.

My sensitivity and ability to see life this way is a blessing but also a curse if I don’t keep it in check. There is a fine balance between allowing someone to use their difficult situation to treat me poorly and giving them grace to heal and grow. But one thing I know for sure is that I want to treat them with love and respect regardless. Sometimes that means lovingly communicating what hurt me and sometimes it means respectfully bowing out and wishing them well as I lead them to the door.

There is a wonderful quote by Vienna Pharaon that articulates this balancing act perfectly:

“Empathy and compassion can be powerfully connective and healing. They can also get in the way of us keeping boundaries and letting what needs to go, go. Knowing where the line is can literally be the difference between healing and suffering.”

But above all, I’ve learned that the best thing I can do is…do it myself. Be the change you wish to see in the world. When I’m in a rush, don’t put others in danger. When I’m hurting, don’t hurt others. When life kicks me down to the bottom, rise up with humility and tenacity to succeed. This energy will spread.

“You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.”

We all have our battles, sometimes unimaginable obstacles; but when I think of doing it not only for myself but to show others it can be done, to try to help them, too, not just myself… I am somehow able to dig even deeper.

And this is especially true when someone is fighting the same battle as me. If you know me personally, you probably know my love for health and fitness. But it hasn’t always been a purely loving relationship. I’ve recently opened up publicly through social media about my battle with disordered eating. I have become outspoken about how I choose to combat it and how I have created a healthy relationship with food and a love for my body.

It is because of my compassion for others struggling with the same issue and my sense of responsibility to future generations that I have made it my mission to deal with my own crap. If I am responsible for the energy I bring (and let’s face it, that’s one of the biggest things within our control), and I am putting out into the world that I hate my body… then I am giving other women and young girls not only permission but added fuel to hate their own. And I am NOT okay with that.

Furthermore, I understand fully now that my eating disorder was about much more than just my body and the way it looked. It’s so much deeper and more complex than that. It’s the lack of self love as a whole manifested physically. And it gave me something I could control in a world where I had so much fear and doubt in whether I was good enough and whether I deserved love at all.

The other day as I was painting, I was listening to a podcast episode on Oprah’s Super Soul Conversations, and I jotted down this quote from Elaine Welteroth:

“When I am myself,

Most authentically myself,

Free of self-hatred,

Free of judgement,

Then I am also my most

Revolutionary.”

I want to love my body so future generations will automatically know they should love theirs. I want to honor my body so future generations don’t get confused that it could somehow become more important than what is inside of it.

Always treat people with kindness, because you never know what they could be going through. And perhaps it’s even a battle similar to your own.

Shit, my mom is always right.

Moving Mountains

20x20

Oil on canvas

Available

Cracks Filled with Joy

About a year ago, my dear friend’s daughter was in a very dark place in her life. She is the youngest child, gorgeous, comes from a wonderful family, intelligent, you name it. But you’ve seen it before: hanging out with the wrong crowd, making scary, potentially life-altering decisions, and even running away from home. My friend didn’t even know where she was for a few days. Can you imagine the panic and heartache? She just wasn’t the child she knew was inside, but of course, as moms do, she kept loving her daughter with all her might and praying even harder for a miracle. She told me that one of her prayers was to heal her broken heart. She said watching her daughter live in this way had just shattered her heart into tiny pieces. She prayed and prayed for God to put the pieces back together, again.

Just one year later, things have completely turned around. You should see this girl! What a bottle of sunshine! She is a stunning, strong woman and a caring human being. She’s just magnetic! And you should see the way her mom’s face lights up when she talks about her daughter. My friend said when she realized how drastically different things had become in just one year, she didn’t feel like God had put her broken heart back together, but instead, felt as though God filled the cracks in her heart with joy.

Now, whatever you believe in: God, the Universe, karma, Mother Nature... you know we all have these stories. The ones where we realize that things are finally okay, again. On my first date with David, I had a glimmer of it. A few days later, on our second date, after a wonderful Friendsgiving and meeting all his friends, we stayed up laughing (Who am I kidding? We were giggling. Hysterically. Like even some of those silent belly ones where your cheeks hurt and you start to get a stitch in your side.), and I had my moment of feeling like my cracks had been filled up with joy. Suddenly, I knew the heartache from losing my dad, the pain from my first marriage and divorce, all of it...it made sense. It’s that feeling of knowing you would do it all over, again, if you knew where it was leading you. That’s joy filling up the cracks.

Of course, life will undoubtedly hurt, again, and there will be more cracks, but this time you’re a little stronger. You know you don’t know where it is all leading to, but you trust that eventually you’ll feel that joy, again.

#believeingood

Cracks Filled With Joy

30”x 40”

Oil and acrylic on canvas

My Painting Water and Circles & Why I Believe in Good

I want to write about my new painting Water and Circles. But in order to do so, I have to back up..way back. So, buckle up, curl up, here we go.

First, let me tell you a little bit about my dad and how I remember him. He was far from perfect. Don’t worry - he would agree with that. He had a horrible temper and zero patience. When he was angry, it was probably one of the scariest things you’ll ever see. But he was never that way with me. I think he thought I hung the moon. Don’t get me wrong - I definitely got in trouble, annoyed the shit out of him, and there were times I knew I disappointed him, but he never got truly angry at me.

In fact, I remember him pretending to spank me with a belt as a kid when my brother and I were fighting. He would take me first in one of the back rooms and yelling, counting to three so loudly and dramatically and, then he would quietly giggle and wink at me before he hit the bed with the belt. I would play along and scream and fake cry. (Sorry Robby...he was training me to be an actress!) Don’t get me wrong - my mom gave me plenty of spankings. (Thanks for being tough, Mom.)

Ya see, deep inside, my dad was a teddy bear.

In September of 2010, he got a pain in his neck while he was editing some video. It got worse and worse and just wouldn’t go away, so he told my mom that he was going to try to finish editing, but then thought he might have to go to the ER.

Fast forward a couple of days. I get a call from my mom’s cell, but it was my aunt’s voice who said hello. I instantly knew something was terribly wrong. I was living in Los Angeles at the time. My mom had called a few days before to let me know Dad was in the hospital. She just said his neck was hurting and he was going to get an MRI but nothing serious. Well, the story gets a little blurry right here because we still aren’t sure exactly what happened. At the hospital, they decided, and my dad agreed, to put him under local anesthesia in order to get the MRI done because he didn’t think he could lie there still for that long with the pain he was experiencing. Something happened. After the MRI, he became paralyzed from the neck down. They were hoping that it was just the anesthesia not wearing off, but soon did tests and realized his lungs were frozen. He wouldn’t be able to breathe without life support.

When my aunt called that day, she told me my dad wanted me to come home. She said she bought me a ticket for a plane leaving from LAX in two hours. It didn’t even cross my mind to pack a black dress.

The next 24 hours was the most important day of my life. His final hours, his final minutes, changed my life forever.

A lot happened that day. September 4th, 2010. I remember in the afternoon, my mom still hadn’t eaten, so I made her go try to eat something. It was just me and my ex-husband (my boyfriend at the time) in the room with Dad. He was off and on napping when he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at me urgently. He couldn’t speak because of the breathing tube, so we used an alphabet device that allowed him to spell things out with his eyes. I’ll never forget those words. “I. Need. Out.” I looked at him. I knew what he meant but refused to admit it. I told him I couldn’t take him outside, and we couldn’t take him home yet. He closed his eyes and then looked at the device, again. This time he spelled “D.I.E.” It still instantly brings tears to my eyes. Even just to type it. I shook my head and mouthed no. Then, one of the most important moments of my life occurred. He gave me this look. This look I will never forget. He was trying to tell me it was going to be okay. He was trying to tell me it’s what he wanted. He was trying to tell me to trust him. And then I remember having such an odd thought, one I didn’t completely understand at the time. I thought, it’s like he’s trying to tell me he’s doing this for me.

I called my mom, my siblings, and the rest of my family in Amarillo, and told them to come to the hospital. When we took him off life support, he was surrounded by everyone and we all got to say our final words to him. What a blessing!

Finally, this leads me to my painting, Water and Circles.

That night, my ex-husband had a dream about my dad. He said it felt so real. He said he felt like he was right here with him. I was so jealous. After watching my dad take his last breath, I felt like you could see his soul leaving him. Like not actually see it. But you could. It’s the strangest thing. Impossible to describe. And it made me believe in all sorts of things - like people visiting you in your dreams. To be honest, my dad never really liked him, so I couldn’t understand why he would go to him. But if you knew my ex husband, you knew he was always searching for answers. I begged him to tell me everything. He said my dad grabbed both of his arms and looked at him straight in his eyes and said, “The secret to life...are you listening to me??? The secret to life is water and circles. Water and circles.” And that was it. He woke up. He said he didn’t understand what Dad was trying to say.

I knew immediately.

Water and circles. It’s like when you drop a pebble into a pond and it makes ripples. It’s like he was trying to say that every action or experience leads to something else and then something else. It reminds me of this quote from Marianne Williamson,

“All that you have lived through has taught you what it means to live at all.”

As it turns out, he did do it for me. The worst day of my life led me to move back to Texas, which led me to get married and divorced, which led me to find my David. It led me to change careers and get my education degree which led me to get an art certification, which led me back to my own art.

Most of all, it led me to believe that everything happens for a reason. A good reason.

It led me to believe in good.

Water and Circles, acrylic and oil on canvas.

Saying Yes to New Beginnings

Why do we hesitate when we receive too much of a good thing? For example, I’ve had so many good days recently. Full of such joy and laughter and ease. Peace of mind. And today, it’s like I can feel the tiny fear creeping up. I remember being in yoga several months ago and our teacher, who is simply incredible by the way, said something as she usually does that I will think about for weeks, months, and some just stick. She said something like “Life is easy...then it’s hard...then it’s just okay. Breath in through the easy, hold on through the hard, and exhale when it’s just okay.” It’s so simple, but I’ve come back to this thought again and again. Like today for example, I feel like I need to just breathe through the fear and hold on. Light, simple days are ahead. Don’t get attached to the fear and anxiety. Know that they don’t control your life, and they won’t last forever. Hold on...and allow yourself to receive more goodness into your soul.

My daily reflection today from the book A Year of Miracles by Marianne Williamson says:

“On Saying Yes to New Beginnings.

Our very cells respond to the thoughts we think. With every word, silent or spoken, we participate in the body’s functioning. We participate in the functioning of the universe itself. If our consciousness grows lighter, then so does everything within and around us. This means, of course, that with every thought, we can start to re-create our lives. In saying yes to new beginnings, we begin to bring them forth.”

I was thinking yesterday when I was painting about how much I want to write more. Mainly more about my inspiration for my art pieces. It’s so hard to fit my thoughts into a single Instagram post. I thought, “I want to add a blog section to my website.” This has actually been a thought all along, but I’ve hesitated because I want to finish my latest pieces, take better photos of all of my work with my new light system that my brother got me for Christmas, and then freshen up my website -- THEN, I’ll add the blog. But then I thought...eh, that just doesn’t feel right…I want to write now. Even if no one reads it. Even if my website isn’t finished. Even if I’ve always struggled with words and prefer to paint it instead. Even if...even if…

Say yes to new beginnings. Breathe in...hold on...and exhale.