Where I was last week

On Being Good Enough and Getting Better

image by mandj98

A new friend recently wrote about the fear of not being good enough. She'd entered a plein air competition and then felt sheepish when she saw her paintings next to the others. She writes:

and then friday came, the night of the exhibit opening, and my inner gremlins attacked. as i walked through the exhibit all i wanted to do was rip my paintings off the wall and run away. i didn't even want to go and ask the gallery director how long he would be keeping my paintings. i was embarrassed and frustrated. my paintings stuck out, they didn't match the style or execution of any of the others. and i had priced mine several hundred dollars higher than the others. despite how good i had felt about my accomplishments before, my confidence was washed down the toilet during those few moments stuck inside the poorly lit gallery.

. . .

on the drive home i mustered a question to my hubs through trembling lips, "i'm really not that good am i?" his reply was sweet and honest, "you are good, i think you just need to enter contests that showcase more work like yours." i know that he's right, but for a girl who doesn't even know what my style is for sure... it's hard to know which direction to go in.

I'm really not that good, am I?

Isn't that the question we all ask? Isn't that the little voice whispering in our ears all the time? Nudging us right before we fall asleep, when we try something new, when we share our heart's passion with others? Sometimes we can silence that voice: when we're deep in the throes of joyous creation or having ridiculous amounts of fun. But then we come back down from our high and that voice, that question, is right there waiting for us. How many times have I asked myself that question in a small, scared voice?

I'm really not that good, am I?

And then, when we're fortunate, our husband, our friend, our dentist, our sister, our teacher, a stranger, answers with kindness. They tell us the only truth that matters. They say, "Find your place."

We don't want to be told to find "our place." To put someone "in their place" is to humble them, to humiliate them, to show them where they belong, which is clearly not as high as they had hoped.

And yet, aren't we all searching for our place? The space in which we feel seen, heard, understood, loved?

Maybe nothing in life is about being good or bad, better or worse. Maybe it's all about finding our place: the place that feels right for us and fits our current style, our current needs.

In many ways, I'm not a competitive person. The very premise of a contest chafes against the magnanimous part of me that believes in equality, freedom of expression, beauty of individual choice. Some things have clear demarcations: The fastest runner wins the race. Some things do not: How do we judge who paints the better painting, who writes the better book?

And yet, relativism is a house built on shifting sand. If everything is good, how do we get better? I'm not a competitive person until I'm competing with myself.

I recently submitted an article and was told that my opening "wasn't going to cut it." I was embarrassed, but realized that the editor was right. 

I wailed about this humiliation to my husband, who is always my rock in this sandy desert. I was upset that my article wasn't good enough. On top of that, I was upset about being so upset.

"Why am I so fragile about things like this?" I asked, mostly rhetorically.

"Why wouldn't you be?" he replied, almost rhetorically.

"I should be a better writer by now!" I lamented.

"Why?" he challenged me. "How much better do you have to be before you're as good as you think you should be?"

"Just a little better," I said with a slight smile. I was thinking of this line, often attributed to the very wealthy Andrew Carnegie:

"How much money is enough?"
"Just a little more."

After I got over myself, I reworked the article. And the full irony of the situation dawned on me: By worrying about the pain of not being good enough, I was missing out on the experience of getting better.

There is a big difference between the voice that asks, "I'm really not that good, am I?" and the one that says, "I want to be better."

Squam Interview on BlogHer

me, as seen by beth from more doors

I was tickled pink when Jen Lemen asked to interview me about my experience at Squam Art Workshops for her Art & Design column on BlogHer. You can read it here.

I'm concerned that my last post about Squam makes it seem like I had a lousy time there. That's not true. As usual, the truth is multifaceted. The truth is, I did feel socially awkward and like I didn't get the experience I'd hoped for. The truth also is that I met some wonderful people, made some exciting new friends, and learned a lot about art and myself. It's all the truth. The truth is messy. And I'm (learning to be) okay with that.

So if you're feeling like a social misfit and want someone to commiserate with, read my last post. But if you're wondering what it was like for a word-loving writer to be thrust into the woods with more than 100 image-making artists, read the interview.

Only Connect: The truth I SAW

me, as seen by Melissa Piccola

I want to tell you the magical tale of 120 women (and a few men) in the woods of New Hampshire, gathered together for art making and soul digging. I want to write about the lovefest that was Squam Art Workshops: how we were inspired, our artful souls lifted high above the trees that grow so straight and true around Squam Lake; how deep, soulful bonds were formed and first time meetings felt more like reunions of old friends; how we surprised ourselves with our own abilities, our similarities to one another, and our capacity to connect.

I've read so many blog posts from SAW attendees that touch on or delve into these very things. I want to tell you that magical tale, but it's not my story. I wish it was. But mine is messier, less cheery. I'm still deciding if it's less magical.

I wish I'd spent five days feeling elated and connected and rooted and artful. Instead, I spent a lot of that time feeling disconnected, tentative, needy, and bothersome.

Epiphany in the Woods

One afternoon at SAW, I found myself walking to the dining hall alone, feeling sorry for myself. I tried to take in the beauty all around me, but felt completely separate from it. I silently berated myself for being a killjoy, for being awkward, for being alone at that very moment when surely everyone else was deep in the throes of exhilarating conversation with their new found soul sisters. Then I had a small epiphany: "Oh. This always happens to me when I go away."

I remembered how a similar feeling of disconnect and discontent followed me around like a palpable presence in San Francisco at BlogHer this year; how even after the conference, while sightseeing with friends, I couldn't shake this specter of sadness. The same thing happened the year before at BlogHer in Chicago, even though I'd fulfilled my wishlist of "BlogHer deliverables."

I realize now that this feeling is achingly familiar. I felt it as a teenager in a very small high school; as a college student with a diverse group of friends; as a young volunteer in a foreign country; in various jobs that quietly killed my spirit. All my life, I've battled the feeling that I'm on the fringe of things.

Why do I always feel like an outsider, even when I'm somewhere I want to be, doing something I want to do, with people I want to be with? Feeling this way unnerves me, confuses me, saddens me. It flies in the face of all that I hold most dear.

At My Core

During Andrea Scher's Superhero Life session at SAW, we did a life coaching exercise to uncover our core values: the ideals that act as our guiding principles; our highest hopes and expectations; the traits we most cherish and respect. I was sweetly surprised when the exercise led me straight to the things I already knew I loved.

My first core value is Joy & Wonder. For me, this means living with my eyes and heart wide open, loading up my life with things big and small that bring me joy and fill me with wonder. It means seeing magic and beauty all around me, much like Anne of Green Gables and so many of the bloggers I love.

I wrote about Joy & Wonder in my 2007 Retrospective:

For the first time that I can remember, I had days when I was just happy to be alive. Each day suddenly held beauty and joy and meaning. I was shocked to realize that I was excited about the coming day; that I looked forward to the possibility of getting up tomorrow and seeing what would happen. This new sense of euphoria left me breathless. For so long I've wanted to live a life of joy and wonder. And for so long, it escaped me. I finally realized that I had to create such a life if it would not just come to me. Of course, the more I sought to create it, the more it came to me.

My second core value is Connection. The fullness of this word for me is complex, but part of it means that I need to connect with people to be happy. I savor time alone, but I need big doses of deep conversation and riotous laughter with kindred spirits. I need this connection in order to feel whole. Without enough of it, it's hard to live with Joy & Wonder.

Come Away With Me

I don't know why I have this fringe problem. How much of it is insecurity clouding my judgement of how people view me? How much of it are those nasty internal gremlins preventing me from connecting? During The Superhero Life, Andrea said that the gremlins' job is to keep us safe. When they whisper that we aren't capable of something, we're tempted not to try. And if we don't try, the gremlins protect us from the pain of potential failure. Perhaps mine tell me that I can't connect in order to protect my heart from the pitfalls that come with living so wide open.

I want to tell you the magical tale of 120 women in the woods of New Hampshire, but for now I can only tell you the story of me. My art retreat experience did not go how I'd hoped. But it's opened my eyes to some important truths about how I experience the world, including how I experience myself and other people.

I came away from SAW feeling sad and a little bruised. But I think this has little to do with the event and the people, and much to do with me.

It's All Happening: Mondo Beyondo Update

heart in Union Square, San Francisco

At the beginning of the year, I wrote a retrospective on 2007 and a Mondo Beyondo Prospective for 2008. (Find out more about the Mondo Beyondo concept.) I named 2008 my year of Opportunity, Abundance, Prosperity, Plenty, and Creation, and made a list of intentions for how I want to live and what I want to do. I also named and claimed some Mondo Beyondo dreams for this year and beyond. I'm amazed and joyful and humbled and pleased to see several of them coming to fruition.

I wanted: "to start creating mixed media art and find my own path as a visual artist." Next week, I'll go to my very first art retreat, where I'll take a painting and mixed media class. I'm also taking a travel journaling class and attending the Superhero Life workshop. I'm particularly excited about this last one, as it's being taught by the Super Duper Andrea Scher of Superhero Designs. I met Andrea very briefly at the BlogHer Swap Meet this summer and can't wait to learn from her. Plus? Her lovely assistant will be Jen Gray, who I "know" through blogging and a few emails. (It's hard to know if the word "know" is really the right verb in these cases, isn't it?)

And as if that weren't enough, Jonatha Brooke will be providing camp fire music, Boho Girl Denise will be running around taking artist portraits, and Kelly Rae Roberts, one of my favorite artists, will be hosting a discussion about living the creative life.

But wait! There's more! I was serendipitously connected with Kelly Barton of Camp Indigo Soul to share a rental car between the airport and the camp. After connecting with her, I realized that she is the woman behind one of my favorite Etsy shops. And speaking of serendipity, I'll also get to meet the inspiring Liz Elayne Lamoreux of Be Present, Be Here and The Little Room Etsy shop. (Remind me to tell you the funny little story about how we "met" online.) I'm also looking forward to meeting Kirsten Michelle from In the Land of the Lovelies.

I have a feeling that once I get back from New Hampshire, I'll be gushing about all of these women and more, as well as the whole Squam experience. (fair warning!)

I wanted: "to uncover and be at peace with my decision about having a child." Although I haven't reached a decision or a place of total peace yet, I have had a major epiphany in this realm, which has helped me to understand the swirl of emotions surrounding this issue for me. I'm not ready to tell that part of my story yet, but the plot is definitely taking a few twists and turns.

I wanted: "to spend a week at a writers' retreat somewhere beautiful, comfortable, and nurturing." Earlier this year I reconnected with a writer friend from college (hi, Jamye!). Several months ago, she asked if I would be interested in joining her and some other women on a writing retreat. The details are still unfolding, but it looks like this little dream will come true the first week of November.

At least one other Mondo Beyondo dream is in the works and looks like it will become a reality. And that's just what I can see. What if all the others are unfurling in their own way and time? I don't know where my dream cottage is yet, but I'm sure it's out there.

There is more of the year behind us than in front of us, but there's always time for dreaming and scheming. What are you up to lately?