I'm currently sitting in my car watching the sunset, listening to a song called, Watching the Storm by U137, and feeling all the feels. Although I don't like sitting in my car, it is fall and I don't want to sit outside in the chilled air.
I think I have enjoyed this fall more than any others I can remember in the past.
I have gone outside, into the mountains to enjoy the beauty of the season a lot, and I have felt the wonder of it through my kids eyes. We get in the car, drive to our little spot, get out and look at the leaves, watch them fall to the ground, crunch them under our feet, collect treasures, and enjoy the quiet that surrounds us.
There is a calm that comes with fall. A calm because we get back to routines, sure, but also because we know that the fast and furious of summer is over and the storms of winter are coming. It is the calm that we need; the rest because the days are getting shorter and cooler.
As I’m watching the sunset, it also feels calm. One color of orange, fading so gradually and smooth in a sky with few clouds. It feels creamy with no excitement of bright colors, a simple end of the day peaceful setting of the sun.
Recently I was listening to a podcast and the woman speaking was talking about how we don’t really celebrate the calm or quiet moments; it’s as if there isn’t a community to support each other in doing things that make us slow down. No one is celebrated for taking a break but on the other hand, people will cheer you on and on, and praise you for the more you can do and accomplish in a day.
This thought has been on my mind a lot. I have never been happier in the sense that I have been enjoying my little fall adventures with my kids, but at the same time, I feel that nagging presence asking why I’m not doing more and if you aren’t even posting about it, is anything really happening anyway? Why are you not constantly creating art for the following that you have? This art business that you have? What’s next? What’s your plan?
Isn’t it funny the pressures we put on ourselves?
Truthfully, I don’t even know what is going to happen tomorrow let alone much ahead of that. I have lots of ideas and lots of plans and hopes and dreams for the direction that I want my art to go. But creating enough time to do those things and also spend time with my kids is really challenging. So I’m making small steps here and there. I’m doing what I can when I can. I’m moving slowly, in the calm and quiet moments that are few and far between.
I’m working on a different kind of creation. I’m creating memories with my kids. I’m creating a calm space for them as they learn and develop. I’m working really hard to help them learn where they can go to feel calm when the world we live in isn’t. I’m helping them appreciate the wonder and beauty that we have in nature because when we can feel connected to something that is much bigger than us, we feel secure and confident in new ways.
As I sit and watch this sunset, I’m also reminded that the depth and beauty of the sunset only comes with time. It comes quietly, it changes slowly, and if you don't pay attention, you will miss it. What seems a simple creamy orange can turn into a fantastic pink and purple fuchsia sky. But it changes quietly, without celebration, and just as calmly it is gone again. My kids are like this sunset and their childhood will only last a few hours in the long days of a lifetime. I want to be with them, to create with them in this time when they are here with me. Because one day they will be gone and I will only have the memories of falls in the mountains to keep me company.
If I seem far distant, not focusing daily on what society thinks I should or shouldn’t be, I know I’ve found a calm in something greater that I can’t describe. I’m quietly creating memories and savoring the calm that comes with them.
Oh Hey! it's me, Amy
These are stories about my art, experiences I've had in my career, and some other fun stuff too. I will probably overshare, sometimes I can't help it. Enjoy!