Dear Little One,
My last visit to the Norton Simon Museum has me pondering pace and production. As I walked the halls and read the placards, the humanity of so many of the world’s greatest painters came to life: his severe depression, another’s frustration at having to paint a commissioned piece that didn’t feel authentic, Degas’ change of mind- the discovery of a different depiction underneath. But what struck me the most, on this particular day, were the framed drafts -- the “studies” in technical terms.
To be honest, I’m not sure I have ever considered the “study.” The painting before the painting. We hang masterpieces in museums and forget to mention the work that was done (quite literally) behind the scene. Work, of course, in the life of the artist- living informing their art. But on a very practical level, the work that was done to prepare for the painting. Sketches, drafts, small paintings done to play with placement, form, composition, and light.
Painters, I’m sure, are far more aware of the time spent in preparation of a masterpiece. And yet, when we hang these items and admire them inside the quiet halls of museum, it seems far too easy to forget.
—
Outside the museum, cars race by, people speed past, the rush of our culture- a blurred backdrop for our lives. And here, in this fast-paced, connected world, new products are churned out faster than tabloid headlines.
Time is money, they say (speed up).
Two-day (same-day?) shipping, they call (you’ll never be without).
If you don’t do it, someone else will, they warn (you’re replaceable).
Here, they feed fear to your dreams. Just do it! They seem to scream.
But the truth is, (much to Nike’s chagrin), it is not always the time to “just do it.”
For what I am learning in this stage of life, is that--
Sometimes it is the time to start.
Other times, the time to re-start.
Sometimes, it’s the time to wait. To hold tight. To welcome patience.
Other times, it’s the time to practice, to train, to create the “study.”
Sometimes, it’s the time to stop, to scrap, to paint a new image where the old one laid.
Other times, it’s the time to paint, to hustle, then to declare “done” - to frame and hang.
Sometimes, it’s the time to slow, to feel, to grieve.
Other times, it’s the time to run, to feel, to celebrate with joy.
Much of the time, I think, it’s a bit of both.
And here’s what I want you to know- it often takes a pointed effort to embrace the season in which we find ourselves. Our culture is so good at luring us toward “Next” and “New.” But Now is the only place we can breathe.
And the beauty of a mindset of contentment is that it offers us the reminder that whatever living looks like in this season, it is the time to live, and to know that in living, our art is refined- and the best kept secret, our dreams are, too.
—
You’ve probably seen me wearing my new watch- the one that cannot tell time. The clock mechanism of this watch has been smashed- on purpose. I wear it as a reminder to pay attention to the place my feet happen to be – the place my eyes see when I remember to look up and around.
I’m learning that there are cultures in which time is not understood to be a tangible commodity. In these spaces, time cannot be spent or lost or saved. Time simply is. A backdrop, a natural process outside of the realm of human control, nothing that can be slipped into our pocket or tamed by our will.
And when I think about the ways in which I want to embrace a mindset of contentment, I keep coming back to my time-less watch.
For contentment offers freedom- it is a release from the power of production, performance and possessions. It bows us out of the race with time to some arbitrary finish line. It is a shedding of the heavy shawl of a filtered life. It is a reminder that where we are, as we are, is the only place to be- might we embrace it while we’re here. Not necessarily because it is good or pleasant (although sometimes it will be), but because it is the place we see when we look up and around. Because we know, deep down, that this is a stroke of the light - or of the shadow; an important corner in the masterpiece of our lives.
And it is here, in this now, that we can hear contentment whisper- the whole of your life is the masterpiece- soak in every color.
PS- In a conversation on contentment, I would be remiss to pass up the opportunity to say this, too: the masterpieces that hang in the quiet halls of our museums point us to something greater. They create pause, space – silence- as we reflect on what it means to be human. But in the noisy world in which we live outside of those halls, poor imitations of the masters lure us to tiny screens. Our digital “social” museums offer unlimited viewing to the paintings people “hang” on a small 3 x 3 grid or in a quip of 280 characters or less. Please remember, the paintings hung there are nothing more than knockoffs. The masterpiece of your life could never be contained to a small rectangular box of metal. Widen your canvas my love.
