Seeds Planted

Earlier this year, I was in attendance at a local art show. It was a delightful event filled to capacity with an audience eager to interact with art and artists. Usually, I feel a bit of anxiety as I enter these public facing spaces, but that night I had felt none of that. I moved through, eyes wide open in viewing with a calm but expectant inner joy, greeting people I knew and didn’t. At one point a young lady walked up to me and introduced herself with a name just as sublime. She spoke with an air of familiarity. My look must have been a question because she continued to shared that she had been a student of mine in a nearby state. She shared the school. It had been awhile since I’d lived there. I asked what grade was she in as my student. She said third.

It all came back in a gentle flood. I did recall her: small, precocious, bouncy and ever eager to dive into every project. First we went down memory lane with names and personalities and do-you-remembers. I was only at her location for six weeks as I was a traveling artist doing six week residencies in each county school. But apparently an impact had been made. She went on to share that impact to my surprise, wonder, and humbling gratitude. She shared how my being there had impacted her life and even her parents. How they so looked forward to my presence. How I brought with me the art (a resurrecting truth) that activated the seeds of creativity that she has cultivated ever since. She spoke fondly of the art classes but it was my presence, she said, that affirmed her. “To see someone at the school who looked like us and brought what you brought opened up the door of possibilities for me.” We conversed for at least 30 minutes or so as gallery visitors ambled around us. I introduced her to a few fellow artists and colleagues as one of my third grade students from back in the day. Her smile and resolve radiated. This moment in time was art unfolding on itself.

She still does art. Her practice involves the land. Something that is also a cornerstone of my own practice time. We further connected on that. She shared photos of her farm and the art she was creating from her land. I could hear the excitement and enthusiasm in her voice as she shared. Enthusiasm is a sure sign of dedication in purpose. Enthusiasm derives from the Ancient Greek en (in) theos (god) which literally means “to be inspired by a god” or “the god within.” She was living in and on purpose, having been inspired by my early young, and probably clumsy efforts to share what I loved. To me the entire process was the art.

That night gave me two more encounters nearly of the same magnitude, reminding me of the power of being in your element. Living as full as possible in the moments that make up this thing called life. In that space, we become pollinators and nurturers, inspiring and giving others permission to do what they do. In being true to ourselves, we are true to the divine in us and that divine spark sparks life that catches on and spread like the seeds of plants carried by the winds and birds. Some of them will take root and grow. This regeneration is the stuff of which life is made beyond mere survival. Sometimes we get to bear witness to the distant fruit of our labors. Labors that don’t always feel like laboring. Sometimes it’s just us doing what we do because it’s in us to do. It’s a reminder to not hold back or second think living in a purpose on purpose. Time and devotion will make it yours. Again don’t hold back because someone out there needs what you have to offer but sometimes take for granted. What you may see as a moment in time or a simple act may be the seed of a lifetime for someone else.