“Things take the time they take. Don’t worry.
How many roads did St. Augustine follow
before he became St. Augustine?”
— Mary Oliver
Last night, I had the chance to catch up with my dear friend and fellow artist, Cara Kozik Brown.
Cara and her husband just got back from a two-week trip through mainland Italy and Sicily, so we talked about all things Italy and Cara’s plans to enroll in Italian lessons and basically pursue her lifelong dream of becoming Italian.
We also talked about how the year has gotten off to a different start for us both — just as I shared with you here on Friday. And every so often, I mentioned various things I’ve been up to lately — that I’ve been thinking of redesigning my website, or studying artists on Instagram who have books coming out soon, or struggling to finish my own book proposal.
I didn’t say much, though — so it’s a sign of how good a friend Cara is that at one point during our call, she suddenly put into words the very things I hadn’t even known I’d been wrestling with:
“I don’t blame you for feeling lost. For feeling that unsettledness and uneasiness. You know what you can do and what you’re capable of, but you haven’t quite find where you fit into things yet. And that’s truly the biggest missing piece of having these skills and passions but not knowing the best way to communicate them with the world.”
“It just sounds like this is a season of having to re-define it. Not only for everyone else — but even more importantly, you have to redefine it for yourself. You want to keep going, but it’s not the right time. First, you need to pause and reflect.”
“You have to ask yourself: ‘What is the heart of life for me right now?’”
My conversations with Cara are always meaningful, but every so often, there’s one that’s just a little more special — one that sends chills up my arms and brings tears to my eyes — and our conversation last night was such a call. So much so, that I feel compelled to share Cara’s wisdom with you today.
When I wrote about how I’ve been feeling a little lost and behind in the year in last week’s post, I was heartened to read that some of you have felt the same way this month. And I was especially intrigued to pick up on a common thread running through your comments: That even when we’re walking through the fog — through these seasons of uncertainty and unease on a bigger level in our lives — it’s still possible to find joy and peace on a smaller, daily level.
For as long as I’ve kept this blog, my normal mode of operation during these foggy seasons is to lay low, keep quiet, and wait to write again when I feel more clarity. This time, for the first time, I’m trying to find words for the fog. I’m trying to be more open about this season of uncertainty, in the hopes that it may be of some encouragement to you on your own journey.
And I’m trying to stay open to the world, too — to look for joy and peace even in the smallest of moments. Last night, I found such joy in my conversation with Cara and in the tremendous blessing of our friendship.
On Sunday, I found peace in the Uruguayan countryside, where the late afternoon sunlight was shining right through the leaves of a gingko tree, illuminating every verdant ripple and vein.
And this morning, I’m finding it in a warm cup of coffee and tea lights burning on my desk.
No matter where this finds you on your journey, I hope that Cara’s wisdom will speak to you as much as it did to me — and that we’ll all keep growing ever closer to the heart of life.
Candace, thank you for another inspiring and encouraging post and for sharing Caras’ meaningful wisdom. Yes, I believe she is right. As we meander on our journeys I think we sometimes just want to race to an unknown destination which bypasses integral milestones that, unbeknownst to us, are necessary steps. Yes we need to reflect, pause and study our map of life, absorb the wonderful moments that come our way and then proceed with patience. I have come to accept this.
Your sketch of the ginkgo leaf is gorgeous and happy. It, and the photo of the leaves reminds me of happy hands reaching up, grasping and absorbing the warm, wonderful, healing rays of the sun which will carry us through each and every day.
Thank you Candace. Hugs,
Treava
“We sometimes just want to race to an unknown destination which bypasses integral milestones that, unbeknownst to us, are necessary steps.” Treava, I can’t thank you enough for sharing such a beautiful thought and insight — I’m going to try and be even more patient with this process right now, and be open to moments that might be those unexpected but integral milestones! I also love how you described the gingko leaves as happy hands reaching up to the sun — perhaps that’s why I was so very drawn to them on Sunday 🙂 It’s a joy to connect with you here today, and I can’t wait to get sketching and creating together this weekend! <3
Candace. I am so amazed by how much you give to all of us and how beautifully you share your personal thoughts even when you are feeling “foggy”. When I’m in the fog I cant even look at Instagram or Facebook. Not because I’m sad but just cos my energy is flowing inwards. Here in the northern hemisphere – as you have just experienced – we are in the dormant period. I’m a believer in the “theory” that we should spend winter hibernating. Allowing ourselves the time and space to reflect and recharge. Theres a quote I saw recently that says something about no flower blooms all year round – so we should not expect ourselves to be putting it all out there all of the time. You have just jumped seasons so I imagine that might confuse your inner rhythms? I love Glennie Kindreds hand written and beautifully illustrated books – especially “The Earths Cycle of Celebration.” I don’t know what your book proposal will be but I’m hoping it will share your heart-filled wisdom and thoughtful insight. You give so much I hope and life enhancing inspiration to others that I am happy to see you are also finding joy in the fallow periods. We all need these fallow foggy periods so we can slow down and breath out and recover our fertility. Thank you for reminding me that our journey is to seek and live within the heart of life.
“No flower blooms all year round.” I can’t tell you how much I needed that reminder this week, Belinda! It’s really quite astonishing how perspective-realigning it is to look at the natural world and the way its own seasons and patterns are structured — whether it’s at the natural pause and darkness of winter, or the cycle of a flower’s growth…as soon as you do that, you can’t help but feel a little more relaxed about not needing to be producing and putting out new creations every day of the year, can’t you?? You’ve really helped me embrace this season of rest and restoration, and for that, I can’t thank you enough 🙂 Wishing you a restful and peace-filled weekend! <3
Thank you for sharing Candace, I’m sure many people can relate to how you’re feeling. I think that even though you might not always realise it, you’re already sharing your passion and talents with so many people and making their days brighter or more peaceful in the process 🙂 Can’t wait to hear more about your new book!
Thank you so much, Nikki — that’s so kind of you to say, and it means a lot to hear that what I share here might bring a little more light and peace to your days. That alone is a mission worth pursuing 🙂 Thank you again for sharing that, and please keep sharing your beautiful watercolors as well — they bring so much light to *my* days as well! <3
Candace your words and Cara’s found me at a wonky time in both my head and my heart and I thank you for sharing them. So much to ponder but I believe that I see a light at the end of this dimly lit tunnel I’ve been traveling. I’ll be writing in my journal (not my gripes and pathetic wallowing) with more gratitude, a better understanding of why I think and feel the way I’ve been thinking and feeling, a more informed and enlightened outlook and a more definitive and positive working plan to move more joyfully to where I want to be with my myself, my life and my art journey. Again, and again, thank you both for understanding this malady and sharing your wisdom and experience dealing with it.
Dear Cheryl — while I’m not sure what the particulars are of the tunnel you’ve been traveling through recently, it’s an honor to hear that what I shared here (especially Cara’s timely wisdom) could bring you some hope and light in this dark time. More than anything, I believe we’re here in life to simply be there for each other during the highs and lows of our journeys, and I’ll be hoping your tunnel grows ever brighter and lighter in the coming days and weeks. All the very best to you, Cheryl! <3
Thank you Candace. My husband and I are on a short vacation and I’m sitting on the balcony of our room, savoring the sound of the waves, sipping coffee, praying intermittently and writing in my journal – not long, flowing kind of writing but just a few sentences at a time as thoughts, memories, blessings and ideas wake up and drift to surface. What bliss!
What lovely words Candace, and those from your friend Cara. I believe she right. We all go through times when what’s ahead doesn’t seem so clear. It’s at those times especially that we can learn to slow down and savor some of the simple things. When we learn this we can find joy despite difficulties. A hot cup of coffee, a caring conversation with a friend, a sunset, a comfortable bed, family that puts up with us…the list could go on and on. I know I often spend too much time on the “busy” and the “tomorrow”. Everyday that I remember being grateful for and patiently enjoying the little moments of the now is a better day. Thanks for sharing even your foggy thoughts. They are still worded beautifully. Don’t worry. The fog never lasts forever.
“A hot cup of coffee, a caring conversation with a friend, a sunset, a comfortable bed, family that puts up with us…” I couldn’t agree more with this beautiful list of simple things and simple joys to be grateful for, no matter how foggy life might be in that moment — thanks so much for sharing it with me, Amber! I so appreciate you sharing your own experience of staying grateful in the fog, and I adore your thought that any day when you find joy in the little things is a day well spent indeed. Hugs! <3
As always, beautiful.
Thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
I’ve kept this post open on my browser for the past couple of weeks because it captures so much of the sentiment I’ve been feeling during my own foggy season. A question I’ve found so helpful is asking myself, “What am I in such a hurry for?” This has given me the patience to appreciate the unfolding and insights that are happening internally, as Treava so sagely mentioned in another comment. Those internal changes are putting me on a much better path. In previous seasons of my life I felt such pressure to find a home for my skills, but now I’m just savoring the gathering of the skills and doing my best to trust that they will come in useful on my journey in the future. 🙂
Ohh, Kim, thank you for sharing your own sage wisdom with us today! “What am I in such a hurry for?” I think I know how I’ll be starting my journal entry later this afternoon 🙂 That is such a powerful question to ask ourselves. I also love your current perspective, and how you’re finding joy in the sheer process of gathering skills (which, if we’re talking about your embroidery here, is an incredibly gorgeous skill! And I have no doubt will continue to bring you joy and usefulness in life). As always, I love reading your comments, and I’m so glad to hear this post resonated with you at just the right time. <3
It does seem like every year I too go through a ‘fall of change’ and a ‘winter of waiting.’ In the doldrums of summer, I didn’t know where my passions, interests, and talents were taking me. It took 11 weeks in a wheelchair and a horrendous misdiagnosis to ‘pull me through’ to perspective. Sitting still, sitting in my discomfort, pain, and confusion, was terrifying — but it physically forced me to listen, to listen to what my heart and head have been trying to tell me all these years. Over the last 6 months, I have discovered a clarity I couldn’t have imagined a year ago. My heart goes out to you in these moments of uncertainty, for fear is a feeling we often choose not to heed.
But you *are* so talented, so kind in cultivating an online community that is flourishing like the flowers of spring! I wish you well, Candace, and that you hear what your heart is whispering in moments of stillness, silence, and (soon) certainty.
-bnb
my writing on the topics aforementioned:
-https://bethanybella.com/2017/02/12/winter-waiting/
-https://bethanybella.com/2017/07/07/rough-seas/
-https://bethanybella.com/2017/09/24/sit-still/
-https://bethanybella.com/2018/01/27/seeds-of-patience/
Good morning, dear Bethany! I hope you’ll forgive me for not getting back to you sooner, but please know how wonderful it was to hear from you. I was only so sorry to hear about the painful journey 2017 held for you health-wise — and it sounds as though it were painful not only on a physical level, but perhaps even more so emotionally and spiritually, as you worked through such a terrible misdiagnosis.
I had no idea you were going through that, but I’m so relieved to hear you not only healed, but emerged from that experience with even greater clarity. That is such a testament to your inner strength and fortitude! Thanks so much for sharing that with me, as I will definitely be thinking about you — big hugs from Montevideo <3