Everything is a Practice

Everything is a Practice

Why is it that we expect to be able to do something well, that we do not practice? In my Heartwork http://www.heartworklife.com.au/ therapy sessions I often hear frustration and disillusionment as clients encounter their habitual patterns of thinking and ways of doing things. I encourage them to experiment with their ways of looking, listening and talking to themselves and to examine the practices that they use to support themselves, each day. By replacing expectations with attention to the practices that you would like to cultivate, you will get better at what you practice. Art making for me has become one of my regular practices, just like yoga, listening to podcasts, meditation, mindful breathing, walking on the beach & pausing. By attending to these practices on a regular basis they have come to replace many of my other mindless habits and have become more like healthy habits, that have become integrated into my life practices. Thinking of these things as practices also stops the tendency of the mind striving for perfectionism or that perfect illusive balance. With the ‘life practice’ mind shift if i am not practicing something i want more of in my life and I notice it, rather than giving into the habitual unhelpful self talk, i am motivated to make a plan to practice again at the next opportunity. If we practice our negative unexamined habits of thinking & reinforcing our self limiting beliefs we get more of them. If we expect to be able to do something like draw or meditate by doing it once then we are setting ourselves up for disappointment. We get better at what we practice! For more information about Heartwork and how to develop your own life practices, check out my therapy website.

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Keep going

My last post was about knowing when to stop and letting go, today I'm all about the tenacity! I guess I think it takes a little of both to live an artists life. This morning my partner drove me to Little Cove for a surf. When I got out the back I realised that the swell was much bigger than I had initially thought and I was a little out of my depth. Feeling my panic rise, I tried to stay calm and paddled towards Main Beach letting the current take me towards the next point. While I didn't manage to catch anything, it was good to be out in the ocean, facing my fear and vulnerability and feeling the power of the waves. Painting can be a little like that, sometimes you take off with an idea of how its going to be, and it all changes in a moment. You never quite know where you are going to end up, but each time you practice you learn something new. Eventually, sometimes, if your lucky something magical happens, something you hadn't anticipated. But if you don't get out there and practice, trust the process, nothing will happen. I have destroyed far more canvases than I care to remember, but each time I get into the studio and paint, I love it and theres a good chance I might discover something new.    

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Knowing when to stop

Starting projects has never been a problem, but finding an ending, well that's another story! I think because it took me so long to really embrace my love of art there is a sense of time running out and needing to create my best work now, which is obviously problematic...so how do you know when to stop? If you are building a cabinet or set of shelves it is pretty clear when you are done, but when it comes to painting or creating a sculpture the end point is not always so clear. My teacher Julie says "you just know"...I suspect that this magical knowing comes from lots of practice, "painting mileage" (as Jenny Watson calls it) and looking at other artist's work. I find stepping back from my own work and looking from a distance can help...its a little like knowing when to leave a job or a relationship...sometimes we need to step back in order to see clearly the moment when it ends. This happened for me recently when i left my job of 10 years. For several months before I found myself moving in widening circles and seeing things from new perspectives as I allowed myself the freedom and space to let go of what I had known. Strangely I also found myself returning to old familiar habits, drinking more than usual and binge watching tv, as I tried to hold on to what I knew all the while knowing I needed to stop! The sketch below, done in Brisbane in 2013, reminded me of how often i have reached a point in a drawing or painting when i probably should have stopped, but my drive to 'finish it' or "get it right" got in the way, and i overworked it. But sometimes that is also how we learn. My mother used to say "You'll learn the hard way Alison!" I am not entirely sure how helpful that was and I have since replaced that mantra with a growing collection of practices that I find much more conducive to learning. For example,  noticing without judgement; embracing my mistakes and finding something worth remembering; learning to love all of my experience; accepting the natural pauses that arise in my creative flow and allowing grace in the moments between the movement and the inertia. Grappling with ongoing health issues had helped me to find a gentle patience with my process rather than continually comparing myself to others. Surrendering to stillness has taken time but I practice as often as I remember....I step away from the canvas, feel into my body and my breath, I let go and move to another one. Paradoxically, continuing to practice allows me to see more of what I need to do less of, create new habits and do more of the little things that matter. The stopping happens and if I forget, my body usually helps me to remember so enough!  

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