Tag: trust

…Where The Light Ends

When I was a boy, my cousin—who also happened to be my best friend—moved into the neighborhood just behind ours. It was like a dream come true. It wasn’t right behind us like the next yard. We weren’t connected by roads, but by a stretch of woods, a washed-out creek, and a decaying bridge with only the hulking metal beams left. There were no streetlights. No sidewalks. Just, trees, grass, earth, and shadows. Between our houses was a journey, not a route. And that journey taught me more than I realized at the time.

One fall evening —one of those days where the trees are close to bare and the air feels thin, not quite cool but southern chilly—we were hanging with some of the guys in my friend’s neighborhood near their house. We were pulling dried stalks from their dad’s garden area and hurling them at each other like spears. We were laughing children at war with boredom and boundaries. The sun had since began its slow descent, and after a while I felt that familiar tug: You need to go now….soon. It’s going to get really dark. And soon enough, it did.

As artists and creatives, we know that moment well—the sinking light, the encroaching unknown. The moment where playtime ends or procrastinations needs to, and the solitary path begins. I had asked earlier when the sun was high, would they walk me home through the woods if I stayed longer. They said they would if I stayed. I took assurance in their words, plus I wanted to stay anyway. But time kept slipping by, and it finally became clear when the excuses started, that none of those guys were taking that trip with me. I looked in the direction of home. The space between the trees was a gaping dark hole, daring me to enter. Finally, in a moment of clarity, decision, and being fed up, I grabbed a handful of rocks—my version of protection —and headed on out, stepping into the woods all by myself.

Years later, I see that boy in so many of us. The ones with vision. The ones with stories lodged beneath their skin and colors in their souls. The ones who stand at the edge of the metaphorical woods, waiting for someone to walk them through the dark patch. Waiting for the invitation, the validation, the right mood, the funding, the perfect collaborators, the clean studio, the ideal conditions. But the truth is, the work begins where the light ends. The art, the creativity, the work, waits in the dark.

The truth is, we’ve all stood in that backyard at some point in our lives, playing around— then wanting, waiting for someone to walk us through the hard parts. Waiting for the timing to feel just. Waiting for the fear to shrink or for company to show up. Sometimes people mean well. Sometimes they don’t come though. Sometimes they can’t. And sometimes, the path you’re supposed to take is meant to be walked alone. You don’t need a full spotlight or a crowd of supporters. Sometimes all you’ve got is all you’ve got. Summon the courage to start. Sometimes you walk with shaking knees and pockets full of rocks. But you go anyway.

There are times in this creative life—heck, in any life—when you’ll need to go through the dark time alone (but are we really alone?). Not because no one loves you or believes in you. But because it’s your walk to take. Your vision to carry. Your bridge to cross. This is for the ones who are waiting. Waiting for someone to walk with you. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the perfect conditions. Waiting for a word from the Lord. Strongly consider moving past the wait because many people have gotten stuck right there and spent the rest of their lives telling stories of how they coulda shoulda woulda…That’s not you.

Grab your rocks. Use what you have . The path may be shadowed, but your gift was never meant to wait for perfect light or time. It was meant to create it. Go ahead and take that next step, even if it first leads you into the shadows and a season of silence. And when you do—tired, uncertain, carrying only what’s in your hands and heart—you will emerge not necessarily into applause, but into truth. Into the space you were always headed for.

Taking The Stand

Last week while sitting in my studio working on a red clay piece, the words of an artist mentor came to me. He had talked at length with me on the unique nature of my work and ended with, “nobody has the connection to this material like you do. Nobody is doing this.” The real vote of confidence was when he requested to trade a piece of work. Knowing the price points of his work, that gesture proved that he also recognized the value of mine.

When I looked around me at the array of red clay values, alchemy comes to mind. I’m not just painting g with a substance. This material is imbued with the blood of our ancestors. I am painting with an iron-rich life substance – a conductor in the highest order. That is golden. My mind then turned to an often overlooked detail in the legendary story of David and Goliath. David, the shepherd boy, had honed his skill on the hillsides near his family’s home. He had forged his will out there in solitude where no one else could see. He had built his confidence, his faith muscles in the crucible of time and the elements where he was alone guarding and caretaking for sheep. Before David stepped onto any battlefield, before he took up his sling, before he walkup up on a giant that punked seasoned warriors—he made sure his actual compensation was clear. All the accolades, awards, and pats on the back aside. He was making sure he was getting paid.

Three times, as the story goes, David asked what would be given to the man who defeated Goliath. Not once. Not twice. Three times. This wasn’t arrogance. It wasn’t greed. It was an understanding of the value of what he carried: a combination of skill, will, and confidence (faith) that made him uniquely capable of achieving what no one else would or could. David didn’t assume he would be taken care of just because he was doing the right thing or doing a good job. He ensured that what he brought to the table was recognized and would be rewarded accordingly.

Yet, in creative fields—and in life—many of us fail to take this stance. We discount ourselves to get the commission, the job, to be liked, to gain acceptance, or simply because we fear that if we demand our worth, we’ll be passed over. All too often we take far less than we should, shrinking our worth. The reality is this: the world will treat us with the value we place upon ourselves. Oprah Winfrey sealed her bid as the queen of daytime talkshows. Jay -Z is not just a businessman, he is a business, man. K.Dot made it clear for all time, They not like us. David used his sling and not the kings sword, shield, or armor. Use what you have in order to do what you do. Preparation in skill, will, and confidence sets the foundation for success, but declaring your value is what ensures you receive it.

“In business as in life –You don’t get what you deserve, you get what you negotiate.” Chester L. Karrass

Skill is the ability—honed, tested, and proven. Will is the internal drive—the persistence to see things through despite the size of the opposition, the odds. Faith is the confidence that your preparation will meet the opportunity. The sum total of these three should be your value, your worth, not just in theory but in real dollars and sense. Yes, I did mean sense. So, the next time you step to an opportunity, ask yourself: Am I walking in with phenomenal skill, relentless will, and unbreakable faith? And just as important—am I making sure that my value is recognized before I take the first step? David’s victory wasn’t just about courage. It was about knowing his worth. Ours should be too.