Art Takes on New Meaning

I just got back from one of my favorite places on the planet--the Martin Guitar Factory in Nazareth, PA. I had to take my guitar up for adjustment. As usual, the technician did some marvelous work. 

For those of you who have never been there, I highly recommend it as a great place to visit. You can take a tour of the factory and watch true artists at work at each station, each one adding something different to the finished product. From where I live, it's a mere hour and a half, so I feel privileged to be able to hop in my car and make my way up Route 31 to 78 and into PA. 

I bought my first Martin back in 1971 for $450. The particular model I got at the time now costs around $3900. I saved for a year for it and it became my sidekick, so to speak, in all kinds of settings. I performed with it at the Music Pier in Ocean City, took it on retreats in the Poconos and various other places, used it for singing at weddings and funerals, and did special music in church with it. Through the years it had taken a beating having been exposed to all kinds of weather and temperatures, not to mention from constant use.

So a few years ago, I took it back to the factory and had it refurbished as a gift for my oldest son (his only inheritance, I'm afraid). As the original owner the work was done at minimal cost--a great added feature to owning a Martin. 

When I retired, the congregation of the Cranbury United Methodist Church presented me with my present Martin guitar which has been a true treasure for these days of my life. I put it that way because "these days of my life" are rich with opportunities to learn new things and to spend time improving in things that have already been a part of who I am. 

Regarding that, I had a revelation. The area in which I live is filled with artists and craftspeople. I've had the opportunity to observe many of those folks at work doing their thing. I've been to studios and workshops and art galleries and have seen firsthand the incredible results of their talents.  It's truly inspiring!

Well, on one particular day I was thinking about all that and I thought that what I needed was a hobby...something that would be a fulfilling expression of who I am.  I knew one thing: I am not an artist or good at crafts. Putting two boards together without light showing through is a real challenge for me. Then it suddenly struck me: my music, my guitar--that's my art. (Please don't misunderstand me: I'm not professing to be some great performer). What I mean is that it was right in front of me. I had been thinking of it as just something I do and have done since the age of 12, but what if I made a mental and spiritual shift to more fully appreciate that part of me? What if I focused on that as that perfect hobby? And I did that and it has come alive for me in a way that boggles my mind.

The thing is that I had grown so used to it being just another aspect of my life that I had actually treated it matter of factly. 

I guess my point is that each of us has something that represents who we are that is more significant than perhaps we're giving it credit. In other words, we've dismissed it as "just something we do fairly well" or we're pretty good at, but we look at it as being no more than that. I think a lot of us have a tendency to downplay our abilities and therefore tend to focus on what we can't do. Sometimes we even go to the extent of envying someone else's life and looking at our own as not all that interesting. 

My father was an electrician and when he retired, he looked for ways to fill his days. I would never have guessed in a hundred years that he would have turned to crafts, with his hands rough and tough from hard work, yet he discovered something about himself that led to a hobby, the results of which have produced great enjoyment for many, many people. He created models of buildings and houses using popsicle sticks. They were of my hometown of Medford but particularly of the time in which he was growing up. They are definite representations of genuine folk art. 

I think that something lies within each of us that if we had more respect for it and gave it more attention, it would enhance our lives a hundredfold, not to mention the lives of others. It may have nothing whatsoever to do with our jobs, but the truth is that it's probably right in front us or just under our feet.

Come to think of it, life itself is an art and we are the artists. 

Thinking With the Heart

I've been working on this particular posting for over a week now. Usually I finish them in just one sitting, but for some reason, each time I got into writing it, something didn't feel right. So, as a result, I stopped and did something else. This morning as I was having my coffee, I figured out what was going on for me. It's simple really: I was trying too hard.

In other words, I was relying too much on my head and not enough on my heart. I had an idea of what I wanted to say, but I treated it linearly, not spiritually. That, I think, is a common thing for a lot of us with regards to the way we approach life.

I'm not saying that linear thinking isn't necessary in getting our ducks in a row. Certainly our bank accounts and budgets (if, in fact, we bother to make one) are dependent on our ability to use our brains in calculating where we stand financially. And our calendars are pretty concrete indicators of our obligations, socially and otherwise (although, for the life of me, I can't remember when I'm supposed to go get a particular test this month at the Capital Health Center). And knowing the directions to a destination we need to reach by a certain time pretty much rely on clock and map or GPS.

Having said all that, those things in general are the black and white and sometimes gray issues of life. But we live in a world which offers us the full spectrum of color. We have been taught and have learned how to think with our brains. That's a wonderfully useful technique. However, just as important, and maybe even more so, is learning to think with our hearts.

Chris and I were away leading  a retreat in Lancaster, PA (specifically Bird-In-Hand) a couple of weekends ago. It was a great time with some wonderful people! Saturday afternoon was free time and so Chris and I took off exploring the area. We had been there before--actually many times through the years--but each time we have had a deep appreciation for the beauty and serenity that emanates from the people and the countryside. There is a gentle charisma to the nature of the people who serve you in restaurants and stores or with whom you simply have conversations.

The point is that that is not something that they have carefully figured out in their brains. It flows naturally from them from their hearts. In all the times that I have been there, I have yet to see anyone who seems panicked or stressed or impatient. Even the traffic respectfully cooperates with the pace of the Amish buggies, and everything seems to flow with ease--unless, of course, you're encountering those from outside the region who are used to life in the fast lane, so to speak.

I made a promise to myself this morning as I came to the realization of which I spoke at the beginning: I promise to start each morning by thinking with my heart about the potentially colorful splendor that awaits me as I live and move and breathe throughout the day. I want to make sure that the source by which I go about this life emanates from deep within to those I meet and has been carefully thought out by my heart.