Getting Started ~ A Heartist’s First Step

The only way to get started on something new, the only way to begin .. is by beginning, throwing yourself fully vulnerable into that first curious, awkward, fumbling, unknown, unsure step and teetering, elated that for this moment, you have neither walked or fallen.  In this moment of teetering, you simply and proudly are the momentum that has ‘begun’ and in ‘this now’ you experience no fear, no failure, no success or win .. there is just a breath of upright movement, suspended in the art of your first conscious creation, your first step!

Babies have a knack for doing this .. for pulling themselves upright on tender wobbling feet, still plumply rounded with curled toes, yet in that moment of their first step, there is no deep seated fear of what will become of their unsure feet, no pondering of the perfect footing, no mulling over what they will look like ambling toward their first fall.

They take their first risk in life with a drooling giggle and a determined smile ..  and yes, most likely they will topple this first time, but for them, it is just another momentum between teetering and stepping again.  There could be no experience of this falling, if not for the stepping, the leaping or flying .. the falling means they have stood.

I found recently that the word ‘happy’ derives from the same root as ‘to happen’.  I believe this means that to be happy, one must be fully involved and conscious in the experience of what is happening .. much like the baby being wholly present with their first step, the only step on their mind, in that moment.  You have something in your heart that calls you .. we all do.  I picture the baby’s mom or dad across the room clapping and holding their hands out toward their wobbling little one and I imagine the dream in our heart and the spirit of our own possibility reaching out to us in much the same way, cheering you, so proud of you .. anxiously awaiting your first step, saying ..  come to me!

Talesha's FeetIf you are reading this, you are a heartist in the waking .. your dream is waiting and anticipating you, however awkward and uncertain your first endearing footfall is, however tender and unsure your barefeet have become .. happiness is in the happening and it’s yours for the waking.

I wish you many messy teetering wobbles, many first determined smiles and just enough falls to know you can fly.


Take the initiative and start ~ Ecclesiastes 9:10

Remembering .. The Greatest Tool For Inspiration, Creation and Perseverance

Sometimes a little ‘remembering’ is just what we need to get our creative energy flowing and give us a little push in a new direction OR perseverance in a current one! I learned something from my first bike ride as a child that has often given me that little push and perseverance and so I share my own ‘remembering’ tenderheartedly with you in hopes that you will be inspired and quite possibly find your own ‘remembering’ in your own life, to propel your courageous bravery to forge ahead!

I could feel the tug and lag on the seat as I awkwardly coordinated steering  and peddling. “I’m going to fall” I cried out nervously, just missing the  pothole and wobbling dangerously close to the shoulder of the road and the ditch  I feared would swallow me up. “Keep pedaling, You’ve got it. I’m going to let go  now”.

“No dad.. wait.” I plead. “Okay, okay, just for a little bit longer.” I could  hear him smiling. “Just keep pedaling” I pedaled harder and found comfort in the  sound of his feet smacking the pavement as he ran along behind me, knowing he  was still there, holding on. I felt the balance of my tiny self, the wheels  turning over, the slight changes in the road’s surface, the wind blowing through  my hair, sun warming my face, the ‘safe’ freedom, dad still holding on.

And then I heard him, “See, you’re doing it all on your own” Immediately, I  wobbled “What?” Realizing the tug and lag on the seat had stopped but I could  still hear his footsteps… I looked over my shoulder to see him running a few  feet behind me, as he had apparently been doing for half a block. Then, like  metal to a magnet. I looked over at the ditch and with focused, precisional  fear, I road straight into it.

Now of course, my dad helped me out of the ditch, brushed me off and helped  me back on my bike. Tears streaming from a skinned knee but mostly a hurt pride,  I cried “I want to go home.” My dad said “Okay, ride it home, then.” I looked at  him perplexed. Why would I ever want to do that again. And with assumed faith in  me, he grabbed a hold of the back of the seat and got me going “Pedal, pedal!”  then with a shove, he let go ~ I drew in a deep breath of courage and rode and  rode ~ Wind in my hair, sun on my face. I had already wrecked and lived and with  each push of the pedal, the risk became less.

bikeThe feelings of encouragement and accomplishment swelled. I gained confidence  and independence that day along with a resilience that I wouldn’t realize until  years later when I held the back of a bicycle seat for someone else. As simple  as it seems, we all carry the lessons and values of our first bicycle ride, our  first adventure and sense of freedom. The first forward momentum that we did all  on our own, propelling ourselves and steering, our destination in our own  hands.

Looking back on your first bike ride: Did someone help you or did you go  at it alone? Were you an instant success? Did you fall down and get back  on, fall down and push it home?

Those first lessons apply to the moment you’re in now, that first piece of  evidence you gathered that meant you could do anything! Today, you have a new  adventure in your life, one that’s just waiting for you to get on and go and  once you get going, perhaps a little wobbly at first, with a little courage of a  small child. It could just be the ride of your life.


My First Commissioned Masterpiece Motherhood Is An Art

In art, a commission is the hiring and compensation for the creation of an art piece, often on behalf of another.

So much of my heartistry has been inspired by my very first commissioned art pieces, my daughters .. Devin, Taylor, Kirstin and Mikalah. From the moment of their immanent existence, I felt the urgency of creating consciously .. the knowing that a lullaby sung, a stroke of paint or molding of my hands on their ‘being ..’ would inevitably shape their be-ings, their hearts, their minds.  Whether a simple shaky squiggle or an inticate brush stroke .. my mark would be on their canvas of life and carried with them into their own gallery ~ forever .. for them to refine, create and frame at their choosing.

mikalah love handsAs with any artistic rendering, I didn’t always create perfectly (in everyone’s eyes) but my art on those four canvases is no less beautiful and no less valuable in my eyes.  They are and always will be my greatest masterpieces .. commissioned by God and created with every exquisite color I had in my own pallet, with the very best of my minimal expertise.  We all set out to do the very best we can. I believe that none of us would say .. we set out to do our worst.  While I can’t say I had all the ‘right’ techniques down, I can say, I created with my whole heart and I created with every ounce of unfurled faith I could muster.

Now as for that commission .. there can be no greater reward than seeing your art, take on a life of it’s own and knowing that you had a hand in it!  I’m blessed with the knowing that my brush is an extention of a much greater creator, the divine artist’s loving hand .. who I very much long to run to with my renditions, in hopes of a prized spot on that heavenly refrigerator .. and then I remember, even I am a part of His masterpiece and we are all in the showing, consciously creating, or not.