Nobody has asked for it today; nonetheless, I offer this advice. It is spiritual advice, because that is the place from which it rises within me. You may receive it as a practical recommendation, but it is more. However, I am willing to say we are both correct. And you are free to disregard it. But I hope you won’t.
Thirty thousand years ago, in what is today France and Spain, people squeezed through openings in the earth, descended into dark (beyond dark) passageways with fire, paint, fuel, and the carcesses of small animals, in order to paint pictures on cavern limestone walls.
We don’t know precisely why they went to such dangerous, certainly uncomfortable lengths to do this, but they did. There are caves throughout Europe filled with these paintings, drawings, and stencils of human hands.
The human urge to make a mark on something is (thus) at least thirty thousand years old. It is as new as the itching you and I feel to do the same. We feel that itch right now- for some it is a prodding, perhaps a scraping or worse. It is a feeling that ping-pongs between the hypocampus and our frontal lobes, back and forth between our ears and the sensory extensions of our consciousness into our surroundings.
We all want to leave a mark. We must pick up a brush, even when it is not the right brush. We must speak words, or write them to another though we know they are inadequate. We must plant a stone, a tree, a flag despite there being no exactly-right place to do so. We must crawl through the dark passageway, with fire.
Vincent Van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo on October 2, 1884, this:
“If one wants to be active, one mustn’t be afraid to do something wrong sometimes, not afraid to lapse into some mistakes. To be good — many people think that they’ll achieve it by doing no harm— and that’s a lie… That leads to stagnation, to mediocrity. Just slap something on it when you see a blank canvas staring at you with a sort of imbecility.
“You don’t know how paralyzing it is, that stare from a blank canvas that says to the painter you can’t do anything. The canvas has an idiotic stare, and mesmerizes some painters so that they turn into idiots themselves.
“Many painters are afraid of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas IS AFRAID of the truly passionate painter who dares — and who has once broken the spell of ‘you can’t.’”
Don’t be afraid. There is a musical chord, a shade of magenta, a combination of words, a caress, a lathed piece of walnut, a stiched tapestry, a blown goblet, a braid of rope, an office-barn, a carved stick, a paving of stones, a cake of never-before imagined splendor and savor, waiting..
for your imagination, touch, and intent
no matter how unready you are or how untrained you may be. You can learn what more you need to know- and it may take years. But it will not happen years from now unless you begin right now.
Crawl now. Be Active, Alive, and make the blank canvas Afraid.
4 thoughts on “A New Year: Do This Now”
Nice article 🙂
Thanks Berry, just to let you know that your Dad hired me at the Firestone Test Center back in 1959. I thought a lot of your mom and dad. They were special people! I remember playing foot ball at lunch time in front of the barn with you and your brother Denny. My dad they called Mac who was the the shop guy and fixed your bikes when needed. I left Firestone in 1976 and moved to New England. I worked with a company that just built church related buildings, so now I am retired and moved back to Salem Oh. Where are you and Denny living now? Have a Great and Happy New Year! Leonard (Len) McLaughlin
Sent from my iPad
I’ll be sending you an email, Leonard- Wow! Great to hear from you! David