A Cherokee parable awakens the need to feed my soul.

Sometimes my husband makes me feel like a fraud. It’s one of the reasons I love him.  We went to visit friends in Santa Barbara last weekend, and on the way back we stopped at an overpass where I had noticed some cool graffiti. We took a few pictures, then I had this idea about digitally vandalizing one of the overpass supports. I posed with brush in hand, and later put in the words “Art is All.” (Pic #1)

Later, he asked me why I chose those words. I gave him a look that said “I married a moron.” But he pushed for an answer. I said, “It has a double meaning for me. Back to front, and front to back. I believe you can find art in anything (All is Art), and art is the thing that animates me, it’s even at times, my deity (Art is All). He liked that, and congratulated me on my world view. Then he added, that to be more accurate, shouldn’t it be, “Art is All — when I make the time for it, or when I’m not intimidated by it, or when I’m not busy doubting my artistic vision or skills?”  Then he asked me how long it had been since I had painted. A**hole.

It had been two weeks. Quite a big deal, considering I preach, lecture, stand up for, and maybe even proselytize about consistent creative output. Naturally I got defensive, reminded him that tending to my corporate duties was more important. He immediately apologized. I piled on with all the administrative work I’ve been doing for our non-profit. He threw up his hands and said he was sorry again. Game over, I win.

Except… later in the day he was talking about this Netflix Series called “Ozark,” which he told me about last week. (I’m up to Episode 7 and It’s a phenomenal series.) We talked about the twists and turns of the plot, and the amazing performances.  I awoke the next morning to see this in my inbox.  Double A**HOLE.

So now to the old parable, attributed to an old Cherokee grandfather….a sobering story that makes me firmly take sides:

Point taken. What my dear, immensely annoying husband was pointing out was that lately, I have been feeding the wrong wolf. So my somewhat tardy New Year’s resolution: feed the right wolf. For me that starts with picking up a paint brush — which, if you will excuse me, I am going to do right now.