Metro Nashville Council OKs Backyard Chickens – NewsChannel5.com | Nashville News, Weather & Sports

Metro Nashville Council OKs Backyard Chickens – NewsChannel5.com | Nashville News, Weather & Sports.

Aspens progress on Jan 8, 2012

Wow! A New Post!

Ok, here we go….I’ve put paint to brush to palette….continuing a work in progress of aspens…I’m repainting the sky using ultramarine blue to make a smooth blue sky. Previoulsy it was hazy, and textured. I don’t like hazy. I like BLUE. Clear blue sunny skies. 

Previous state:

It felt great to paint again!

J

A New Day

Seek out ways you can bring new methods and innovation to what you do- your work, your planning and pulling off those plans, family, business, your art….life..etc.  Another step toward creating the life you want.

J

Blossom

And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~Anais Vin

You ever feel that way???

A Seed

Seeds are very interesting.  While they are beautiful to behold in and of themselves,  I see in them HOPE for what is to come-  the POTENTIAL to be more than its present state reveals.  There’s an expectation of a future unfolding of that seed into a full-fledged plant of its own design.  Beholding the seed is inspiring, but it must be planted and cared for in order for it to spring forth- to EMERGE- and undergoe its metamorphosis designed by the Creator. 

And in its maturity the now grown plant gives food, shelter, and…. more seed….

Emergence

Emergence

It takes a first step to get the momentum going.  And, well, this was that first step after a very busy season of preparing income tax returns.  Gaining the momentum was more important than  accomplishing something artistically appealing.  Sometimes we just need a kick-start.

“Emergence” has grown on me as a concept of something great coming into a place of being from its unseen place (aka hiding spot).  A person matures. A painting is formed. A seed grows.  A new thing develops.

Who Judges Your Work?

Who judges your work?
By Seth Godin

Here’s the mistake we make in high school:

We let anyone, just anyone, judge our work (and by extension, judge us.)
Sue, the airheaded but long-legged girl in Spanish class gets the right to judge our appearance.

Bill, the bitter former-poet English teacher gets the power to tell us if we’re good at writing.

And on and on.

The cheerleaders are deputized as the Supreme Court of social popularity, and the gym teacher forever has dibs on whether or not we’re macho enough to make it in the world. These are patterns we sign up for, and they last forever (or until we tell them to go away).

In high school, some people learn to ship, they learn to do work that matters and most of all, they learn to ignore the critics they can never possibly please. The ability to choose who judges your work–the people who will make it better, use it and reward you–is the key building block in becoming an artist in whatever you do.

You can find Seth’s article online here and also subscribe to his blog if you wish.

I like how Seth Thinks. Nuf said.

A Psalm of Life

 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
    Life is but an empty dream!-
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
    And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real! Life is earnest!
    And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
    Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
    Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
    Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
    And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
    Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
    In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb driven cattle!
    Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
    Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, – act in the living Present!
    Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
    We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
    Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints, that perhaps another,
    Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
    Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
    With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
    Learn to labor and to wait.

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
    To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
    And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

(Sea Fever, final stanza, by John Masefield)