Dear Wal-Mart Friend

Photo Credit:  Businessweek

Dear Friend,

Who’d have thought our friendship will start from Wal-Mart.  Of all places, right?  Life is like that, full of surprises.  Last week, you surprised me when you recounted when we first met.  Silly old me, I would have missed that detail in the years to come if not for you.  Keep on Reading.

Patience in Pink

Isn't it amazing how each bud 

Has it's time to bloom?  

That's patience made into something beautiful.  

The wait might seem longer

But soon, your time will come

To bloom.

Hang in there.

An inspiration post for a dear friend.

Sandbox

A Child's Play

It's the weekend.   Nice spring weather, play park getting full and I hear the high-pitch cheers of tiny people (a.k.a. children) outside.  It's only a matter of time until our little one realizes he's missing out on the fun.

I love where we live.  Forest preserves and parks are just steps away from our backyard.  But like any other perks, there are few downsides.  For example, keeping the lawn weed-free is almost impossible.  Nature has it's way of relentlessly sending the seeds of the unwanted sprouts blown through our way.

Then, there are the tennis and volleyball courts directly facing the windows of my studio.  I swear they wave at me each day saying, 'We're waiting for you.'  I used to play tennis back in college but didn't got into volleyball that much.  I'm not much of a 'contact sports' person.  First time I tried volleyball and felt the tingling pains in my wrist last for weeks, I vowed to stick with non-contact sports.  

I lost count how many times I told myself, I'll get back into tennis or learn volleyball.  The courts are just right in our backyard anyway.  Oh, the many plans we make, and break.  This is why I don't mind watching the little man play in the sandbox.

We're both able to 'start over' again.  Forgive ourselves on the plans we break.  There, he builds, creates, digs, piles, and explores, and do it all over again.  While he's busy experimenting on new ways to line up mounds of sand into miniature hills, I savor that little 'pause' time for myself.

I'm able to reflect on few things, just few because within ten minutes or so, he'll be wanting me to jump in there.  If I'm lucky, there'll be kids who'll join him and I can resume my 'reflection' time.  Watching the kids play on the sandbox  reassured me that's it's okay if some of my plans don't materialize.   Or if the dreams we built sometimes break, and expectations fall through.

That it's okay to live imperfectly.  Life is a big sandbox, waiting to be explored.  

Maybe this time, I'll dig into mine with childlike wonder to see what treasures await me. 

To Paint

Painting today at the Studio.

My tall order for today.  I haven't picked up my brushes for days.  Work and motherhood filled up my days.  Contrary to what others believe that art can be instantly created whenever an artist desires to, it doesn't often happen.

Here's an example:  

Attempt No. 1 - My little one trails behind me as I opened the door to my studio.  I know exactly what he'll go for - my tray of watercolor tubes.  He prefers that over his own set that I laid on his table.  That means, skip watercolor today. 

Attempt No. 2 - Doorbell rings while I'm filling up the jar with water for the acrylics.  Unexpected but a welcome visitor.  Then, there's lunch and phone calls to make.

Attempt No. 3 - Nap time for the little man.  Only after we danced 'Shimmie Shake' by the Wiggles.  In less than eight weeks, Anthony, Greg, Murray and Jeff have now been familiar names in our household.  Off to dreamland he goes.  Ah, it's that time!  Finally.

Attempt No. 4 - Tiptoe, then silently close the door.  Don't forget to turn on the baby monitor.  Okay, here it goes.  Squeeze paints, dab brushes, paint away.  

Let the worries wait, it's my time . . . to paint.

The Artist is Back

After few months of being away, I am back with new and exciting creations.  But first, let me thank all the folks who have been patiently messaging me, wanting to know when I'll be back in the 'artsy-crafty' circle.  Thank you for all the heartfelt messages.

I took a brief blogging sabbatical to dedicate more time to writing a book and pen a couple of articles.  I've been privileged to write the winter newsletter for Strathmore Artist this year. 

What a great honor it is to be able to inspire not only artists, but those who aspire to fulfill their creative pursuits.  So if your enthusiasm is running a little low, I invite you to take some time to read the free artist e-newsletters from Strathmore.  I guarantee you, you'll be thanking yourself you did.

Thanks for stopping by again.

The Art of Gratitude

'Thank You'

Watercolor on Paper by Sherie Sloane, 2008.

Buy Prints Here.

Photographic Letter Illustration of the phrase 'Thank you.  

I painted each letter with images of subjects, which names begin with the first letters of the words 'Thank You'. 

Reserved

'Reserved 1'

Mixed Media Illustration by Sherie Sloane.

In my heart, 

I reserved a spot for you.

 Take a seat my friend, 

Know that you're always 

Welcome here.

The Little Indian Man

Time are tough these days, not only in America, but almost in every corner of the world.  It seems as if dark clouds billowed on us all of a sudden.  Don't we wish at times, someone can just walk in and bail us out from the dimmed situations we're in?

'Doorway, India' by Kate Minelli

Like Danny's little indian man.  My friend Julie told me about this story the other day.

Danny (not real name) was on top of his game, he was successful in every aspect of his life.  Then his business got hit by the downfall of Wall Street.  The pressure to produce to make ends meet challenged, not only his wits, but his faith.  

He never imagined that one day, he'll have to walk to a company meeting, and announce that he doesn't have enough to pay the employees anymore.  That the door is open to whoever wants to leave.  He knew half of his people will walk out, he was too busy being the 'big' businessman, that he rarely spent time knowing most of his employees.

But no one did.  They said they'll stay and see how things progress in the coming weeks.  He knew then, there's still hope.  He can't remember the last time he prayed so earnestly.  Within the closed doors of his corner office, he clasped his hands and prayed.  This time, for the people outside who decided to stick with him.  He prayed that they'll have enough to bring home to their families at home. 

Does he believe in miracles?  It was a rhetoric question a man like him often avoided.  But before close of business day, a little Indian man walked in to his office with ten thousand dollars.  He introduced himself as the son of the businessman from India he met months ago, whom he invited to invest with his growing company.  

He was speechless.  For there stood in front of him, the answer to his prayer.  How can it be, that his prayer was answered so instantaneously.  They exchanged pleasantries and talked business for a short while.  Soon after that, he gathered everyone in the office and announced that they will all come home with their paychecks that day.  Every single one of them.

The employees all cheered and he heard someone said 'Amen'.  He glanced at her, smiled, and mumbled 'Amen'.

Our prayers may not be answered so quickly like that of Danny's.  But my friend Julie made me realized, we all have 'little indian men' in our lives.  People who are ready and willing to bail us out, no matter what difficult circumstances we're going through.  

We have our partners, children, families and friends.  Everyday, they shower us with unconditional love.  They bring us cheers to lift our spirits up.  They are always there, reaching their hands and hearts to us.

Let's not forget about that.  Today, let's thank them.  For being the 'little indian men' in our lives.  Thank you, Julie for being one of them.

What Keeps You Going?

While browsing the forums in Etsy today, I came across this post, "Do you have a favorite that quote keeps you going?  What appropriate timing this post is, and what a great opportunity to lift each other up.

"Live each day as if it were the last."

In these tough times, this thought keeps my family going. We make the most of each day, doing things together that doesn't necessarily require spending.  

~ early morning tea time

~ morning jogs with the baby on the 'jogger' 

~ leaf hunting for the wreath I'm making 

~ praying, and praying a lot 

~ laughing 

~ leaving SHMILY notes 'everywhere' 

What are SHMILYs = See How Much I Love You.

Do you need some boost today? Read the complete thread and I'm sure you'll find a wealth of inspiration from folks like me, and us.

Read the Original Forum Post in Etsy.

What's your Quote?

The Spectators

Have you ever walked inside a gallery or museum and find yourself a little confused on how to define one's art?  

I knew a lot of folks like that.  I count myself among them on certain occasions.  Only I'm the type who will spend a little more time to put myself in the artist's shoes and tries to envision his thoughts behind his artwork.  

He accomplished it to serve a purpose.  Whether someone like it or not, it's there for certain reasons.  One, the curator definitely preferred his piece.  Two, he planned it to come out that way.  Three, he obviously succeeded in conveying his message because he got my attention, our attentions.  

After few minutes of thought-processing, we aim to find out who the creator is.  We then shift our gaze to the bottom right to locate the artist's signature.  Unless he's like me who signs paintings in no particular location, chances are we'll find his at that  spot.   

We conclude our brief stay by describing the kind of artist we think he is.  Knowingly, we judged the person according to his art.  Without his presence and own introduction, he has been delimited.  And just like him, we will be depicted based on our outputs.

I am an artist.  Sometimes defined as an abstract maker, at times a realist.  Oftentimes, an impressionist.  Truth is, I'm a creation of someone I call the 'Master' of all, creating to bring him glory.  

That definition suits me just fine. I hope in the end, they'll say 'The maker is great, because he had such a fine handiwork.'

How would you want to be defined?

Catching Raindrops

Growing up in a sunny region, I was used to having gorgeous weather almost throughout the year. Yet my favorite season of all times are spring showers.  My love affair with the whole precipitation cycle must have started when I was five, I love watching the raindrops trickle in our window panes.

The tiny drops resemble little gems, it was one of my first discoveries.  I was so enticed by it that I picked up a pencil and paper and started drawing it.  Trying to capture the misty scene wasn't that simple, I realized.  There must be some way I could portray it.  Coloring it with my stash of crayons didn't seem to help much.  That afternoon, as I watched the rain pour, I grew weary at my attempts.

Just like any kid, I finally gave up and set it aside.  In my young mind, I thought I failed.  Then I heard both of them exclaimed 'Oh my, what a beautiful drawing, great job! '  It was the first time I've seen those kind of amazement in my parents' eyes.  They both scooped me up and raised my artwork proudly.  

That's why I love rainy days.  In my young mind then, I learned it was alright to fail, to be disappointed at myself at times and allow sadness in life.   That everything doesn't have to be perfect or right.  Cheers of triumphs taste sweeter afterwards.

The rain brought me two things that day - an important lesson in life and my love to create.

Chasing Dreams

'Not Letting Go'
Watercolor on Paper, 8 x 10 in.
Purchase archival print, $19.

While in line at the cafe, I overheard an interesting conversation. 'It's time you give that up, you're not getting anywhere with it", the man said. I looked at the lady and noticed instantly how her shoulders drooped and head hung low.

She let out a sigh of surrender and said "I guess you're right, I'm chasing useless dreams." My heart ached for her, for I know something inside her died that day. Her eyes shifted with gloom and her face filled with a pale expression void of emotions.

I wanted to tell her, 'Hold on to it, never let it die. Nurture it little by little. Stride towards it one step at a time. The hurdles may be endless and coveting the prize almost impossible. But I believe someday it will come true, for every dream is worth chasing. So, hang in there. Rest, if you must. But don't quit.'

But how can I? I don't know her, she doesn't know me. It's her life and the choice is hers. A little prayer is all I can give.

That day, she reminded me 'The choice is mine'.

At the Foot

'At the foot of Mt. Hood'
Plein air painting from Mt. Hood, Oregon.
Watercolor on aquarelle paper, 4 x 6 in, $30.

Purchase.

He found himself at the bottom again. Exasperated from the task of climbing the huge mountain in front of him. To give up is so tempting. To do so means failure, he knew that. To fail without trying will make him less of a man. At least that's how he'll feel about it.

So there he is, at the foot of the mountain. Not sure whether he'll succeed in conquering the heights of it's slopes. One thing he's certain, he'll triumph in every step he make towards his journey.

Besides, a million steps begin at one.

Keep that in mind when you're faced with insurmountable trepidations. Take each day one at a time. It will end soon. Don't keep looking ahead to how much is left for you to endure. Instead, look back and cheer yourself for how far you've gone.