The bearded dude is a smart dude. He also happens to be my husband. He likes the anonymity of being labeled such, unless it's in a public place where we are together, then he refers to himself as THE bearded dude. The one married to me. He's cool like that. I mention him because he made a comment to me this evening about expectations. How sometimes he gets frustrated with things or me, and then takes a step back and tries to look at why he's frustrated. He said it's based on expectations that he has set that he feels aren't being met, in any given situation. He likes to approach certain things with NO expectations. Not everything, mind you...but in the effort to keep peace inwardly or relationally, if there are no expectations there is no opportunity for discouragement and disappointment.
It sounds kind of hopeless, especially if this reminds you of something that happened today or is ongoing right now in your life that is pissing you off or making you sound. Hang on though. I'm thinking about the day before yesterday when I hated everything I was working on in the studio. Why did I hate it? I EXPECTED to LOVE the things I was painting right off the bat, because that is usually what happens when I paint. And when I didn't like what I was working on, it irritated me. To no friggin' end. (Like this blog....and still not being able to post photos! End minor rant.) Yesterday however I didn't expect ANYTHING of my time in the studio other than the joy of being in my favorite work space, listening to CBC Radio 2 on my laptop and enjoying the sunbeams flooding the living room. My studio day was awesome and I finished a painting which I hung today and still love. This got me thinking about my sketchbooks. I sit down and draw things with NO expectation of them being of any consequence other than practice and exploration. Travel sketchbooks? They are to tell stories with pictures and random notes about where I was, what I ate, what I drank, what I saw and any interactions and random friends I made along the way. No pressure.
Expectation seems to squeeze the very joy out of the things I love. Like running. Painting. To-do lists. Reading. This is not to say I'm going to take the hippie free-love-expect-nothing-of-anything attitude and live in van down by the river and commune with birds and trees....but it does mean I'm going to make a conscious effort to not expect amazingness or some other emotional type response with my creative life. Every little bit counts. Every 15 minutes spent honing whatever craft, even if I scrap it and start over is now 15 minutes MORE I have spent doing what I love. So....I'm editing my expectations in some areas.
But hoping for a solution to this no posting photos problem to present itself soon.