We are entering depression season in Portland. I felt it a bit today, though I don’t know if anything can be worse than last winter. I’m not gonna front, I am broke. I have been struggling financially for years, to the point where I now feel I need actual psychological therapy to help me tackle my mindset about money. Needless to say, being broke does not make The Season any brighter. I felt lonely today, wishing I could share this beautiful space and king size bed with someone. But that too will pass; ovulation hits me this way sometimes. Days like these I genuinely feel that I have nothing to rely on except God. We are in deep daily relation and conversation now, and I am listening; “Maturity is not added with age. Life stages based on years are man-made egocentric goals. The Spirit is all I am after, and you are growing richer every moment.” I know what I desire and so does The Lord, and I’m shaking this idea that He has some stubborn omnipotent plan for my life restricting me from any input. That may be the God they taught me about in Baptist church growing up, but it is not The One who is living in me now.

I’m reading an important book, God has a name, by John Mark Comer (who is also my pastor at Bridgetown Church here in Portland). He dissects the ways God reveals to himself to Moses in Exodus 34:6–8, evidencing that He - Yahweh - is a relational, emotional, intellectual being who listens and responds to us. I feel it, and amidst this material unrest, I am at peace. I can’t explain the feeling of God’s redemption. It is powerful and real and capable of flipping a switch inside of me; it is not something I am able to do without the power of The Spirit. I am grateful to know this Presence.

A month or so ago we’re meditating in church at the beginning of service. Yahweh says to me, “Be Still and Know That I Am God”. I went up for prayer at the end of service and the woman praying with me stops because a new song has just come on with the lyrics, “Be Still And Know I Am". I told her I was struggling with my trust for the Lord; I know all the things to say and offer advice to those around me, urging them to trust God, but feel shame because I am questioning it myself. And then He reveals himself unmistakably in that moment, in the peaceful silence of His Spirit and through music. Since this encounter I see and feel a peace and joy all around me. God is the most joyful being in the Universe. He created me - us - in His image. He wants us to be happy. This is my greatest comfort. God says to me, “You’ve asked for growth, trust me, I am preparing you for great things.” I have a tendency to focus too heavily on the goals I’ve yet to meet, that have life in notebooks alone. But reflecting on the things that I HAVE done have much greater impact on the encouragement and wellness of my mind and spirit:

Solo show in conjunction with graduating art school
Art Studio
Large format printing
Thirty Under 30
Kids Making It
Left KMI and applied to Dreams and Evolve Golf
Negotiated my pay and all that with Evolve Golf - wasn’t scared. This was a very confident time.
Omni, The people affected by this show and collective
Full Frontal
Commissions with Dumay, Paws and Claws, private commissions
People reach out to me about printing, teaching workshops
Museum of Dead Words - going to London and curating in New York City!
Solo Show Landscape and Memory
Moved across the country!

…

Mmm… this is a good practice. Also, it reminds me that there is no point in comparing yourself to anyone but yourself. There will be low days; they are guaranteed the same as there are rivers and valleys at the foot of a mountain. We have emotional seasons of life just as there is Autumn to balance the Spring. God - Yahweh - gives us these things as a metaphor to guide us in our personal journeys. I am in awe to know that He perfectly orchestrates nature, yet still cares about the desires of my heart and my biggest dreams. He listens and communicates intently because He wants to be in relationship with His creation, to see it grow and learn, and above all else to be full of joy and love. I’ve spent more time with myself the past year than any other time of my life, and it has awarded me a deep understanding and articulation of why I do what I do. The experience of life’s intellectual, purposeful design drives me to offer the world the same intense empathy through action, to create because I am creation.

It’s like the end of a storm. An image of you peeking through the glass door, just to be sure that it’s really over. A hand extends into the eery unknown. Its pale goose-bumped limb behind it. Through humid windless cold it reaches, then signals an all clear as a hand grasps the paint-chipped door frame that reveals the "Big Top Red" hue underneath. A memory flashes. Painting with your father on a Saturday in April when you were 11, before the circus turned into a sideshow. A bare toe makes hesitant contact with damp unsettled soil. The roots from an old oak - whose branches stretch dangerously close overhead - have been surfacing for years, but they seem especially exposed lately. You were always barefoot, playing outside with your brothers and the neighborhood treehouse gang until the warts had to be frozen off by another one of your mother’s home-made potions. In perfect choreographed form, a thigh follows, then the other knock-kneed leg, unshaven and full of bruises from another night you don’t remember. The air is crisp but heavy, coupled with a fading charcoal sky. It hangs and haunts silent and melancholy - like the end of an anticipated performance wrapped after months of preparation - demanding inspiration or depression. Nothing in between these two opposing intensities exists. Doesn’t it though? You’ve been trapped in that abyss until this very moment. Caught in the pickle between passionate purpose and a vacuum of self-doubt, triggered by the world’s accomplishments that have swirled, taunted, and deafened your motivation. Like a cloaked knight descending from a sphere of darkness, the storm’s remnants embraces you with a sly grey kiss and your body begins to unravel and unfold, melting into the tantalizing fog that surrounds.

For a decade you’ve been staring out of that glass, bracing for shattered impact. You’ve imagined blood mixing with water and dirt as they relentlessly rush in from sideways rain, accompanied with hail and memories you abandoned somewhere in the depths of your wild mind. For some time, in spite of your own suffering, you've fought against the elements, but nothing of human capacity could ever keep you dry or wash away the pain that is now inked permanently into sore skin. The moment at which you release clenched fists, the cold washes over you and a wheezy, desperate inhale cuts through the air. Then it’s all over, leaving nothing but soaked walls and a life-dependent choice; to drown or to float to dry land. You have been floating ever since. But it’s felt like drowning most of the time, and you’ve never known the difference. Not until now. You take another careful breath, one that actually refills lungs with something clean instead of more suffocating sharpness. Tingles from your scalp to the depth of your chest awaken life that once existed in your soul. My soul. Yes, it remains. Eyes turn outward from the narcosis that has paralyzed for 10 years. Out here, in the vastness of the storm's end, what should feel empty and lifeless is the only thing that makes any sense. For the first time in a long time, flesh is hydrated by sun instead of rain. Finally, out here in this wilderness, lost memories hold less weight and inspiration abounds; a new season awaits, it is time.