My dad had visions. The kind that turn into things.
He would see things in his head -- and then make them. He was an artist.
That's what artists do. They transfer what they see onto or into something we can see. Call it a skill if you want. But it feels larger than that.
He liked to carve, but that process was different. He began with a vision but the wood itself would guide him.
Artists must work in partnership with their particular process or medium. But I think that partnership is more critical when you're carving.
I base this on something my dad told me. He said, "You cannot plan every cut, every step. The wood will tell you where to go."
You have to be prepared to change direction. A small crack or knot or twist can detour the next slice of your knife. And every hunk of wood is different.
That's the creative challenge. How to follow the twists and turns and still create something new. Perhaps something unexpected.
So ... what if we took the carving process — that challenge — and applied it to our day?
I'm talking about when you wake in the morning and begin to carve out your day.
Every day is a chunk of wood, ready to be shaped to fit your plans. But ... how often do you run into twists and turns?
We tend to think our days are all alike. We are in a rut, creatures of habit. But look closer.
The best part of any journey could be the interruptions. The things we bump into, little surprises that remind us of what we have, where we are, who we are.
What makes your day stand out? The things you planned or the interruptions? That’s the point, I guess.
When you carve out your day, embrace the detours.
I’m Lonny Cain… and that’s my Perspective.
