Let's Start at the Beginning...

A friend once told me, “It doesn’t matter where you are in life. What matters is how far you’ve had to come to get to where you are.”

I’ve navigated roadblocks, avalanches and heartaches, as well as mitigated scorn and judgment to arrive today. As far as the plains of Kansas are from the mountains of Kathmandu, is metaphorically, how far I’ve had to come. I’ve allowed emotions to derail me and withered when the winds of cynicism blew, but, I survived it all and today breathe this sigh of gratitude, and to share these words and color with you.

I am an artist, writer, photographer, singer and inventor, and we artisitic types don't always find the understanding we seek. Growing-up, my mother’s favorite term for me was, “odd.” Thus the long journey seeking my heart's delight began under the scrutiny of my elders. The roadblocks of which I spoke, were mostly self-imposed. When making decisions, I consulted my intellect and ignored my heart’s pleadings.

The family into which I was born was blessed with singers and artists, but none of them believed in themselves or in their abilities. Consequently, my course of rebuff was generationally set. I was told to be serious and to learn skills, not to play with paints or to sing songs or to waste time writing poems. I was six when I wrote my first poem about a bug named Mary, and then composed a melody I devised from the twenty-two working keys on the piano that sat on our back porch and a lifelong passion was born.

Later, when I really began to sing in earnest, was given solos at school and began voice lessons, my dad would interrupt my practicing by asking if there was a sick cow in the room - then he'd smile and acknowledge that it was just me - singing. He intended no malice and was trying to be clever, but it’s taken years to get over the embarrassment that results from being judged and found lacking. Wanting to create, to perform and to bring light and then – the shame of “showing off” by sharing, either my creations or songs dimmed the ardor and enthusiasm.

We are such complex creatures.

My purpose in starting,” Words and Color with Tawnee,” is to urge each person to embrace the joy that comes from turning off your internal critic and engaging your playful, willing self to experience more exuberance - to LIVE LARGE! There is a saying that the artist Mary Englebreit illustrated, that reads: “Life’s too mysterious, don’t take it serious.”

Byron Katie in her book, Loving What Is, writes succinctly about worry and taking in judgment: "Whether worry occurs about these things or not, they are today, as they are. You may sit with a frown on your face all day and wring your hands, but you have not changed the facts of the situation, you’ve only robbed yourself of joy and vitality. You cannot resist, “what is,” and be happy."

If you paint, or take photographs, or write, or participate in any of a gazillion other outlets of creativity and you experience joy - rejoice! The situation that causes you concern, will be as it is; your vacating your post of worry affects it not a whit. However, you’re regenerated and enriched – and so are those with whom you share your works. You have no need to feel guilty by finding beauty and by experiencing joy, even if others can't or won't

Anais Nin tells us that, “As we spend our days, so we spend our lives.”

 I resigned my position as a vice president with one of the largest financial institutions in the world to be just where I am in this journey, so – gulp – I guess I’m committed. I have lots to share about where I’ve been and where I hope to go, but for now, I’m going to just share a poem with you I wrote about how I arrived here.

Rebirth
Tawnee Isbell

I'd swoop high in the swings at my grade school
and watch clouds as they swirled into shapes
I’d see stars and dragons and lions
And melons and cougars and apes

I'd draw and paint and laugh out loud
And crow how much fun it all was
My mother said, “Quit all that foolishness.”
I asked why, she said, “Just because.”

She said that someone like me should learn typing
That people like us won’t find dreams
That pain and darkness and heartbreak result
Not acclaim or blinding klieg beams

She implied that I wasn't special
She said there were millions like me
That to believe any different was foolish,
“Be normal,” was my family’s decree

I felt confusion and shae amd heartbreak
While I searched for my place on the Earth
I put down my brush and took up my pad
And filed memos in a small, naked berth

For years I conformed to a standard
For years I tried to fit in
While my spirits drooped and my arches fell
My pen poised in a room full of men

Why do I care if they think I'm crazy?
Why should their opinions matter to me?
It’s my passion that’s choking and smothers
It’s my spirit that begs to be free!

"Come hither to us," purr the mountains
“Come hither to us!” yell the trees
The inspiration, my clouds, swirl waiting
for my soul to paint what it sees!

The high-heels I gave to the Goodwill
Also, the suits, to constrain someone else
The politics, conference calls and meetings
I left with my keys on the shelf

My new paints are vibrant and gooey
They are naughty and fly off the page
While I paint the melons and lions and cougars and apes
I envisioned each day from my cage

Hope resisted that toxic life sentence
While Joy hibernated within
The message, well-meant, was erroneous
To say dreams can’t be, is a sin

Sometimes there is only one person
to say what the World needs to hear
Or to find that new species, or to discover a cure
How missed dreams change the World, isn’t clear.

Out task is to encourage and be willing 
To take risks and be part of the plan
To paint, and to dance and to write and to sing
To be present and be all that we can


If you mustered the courage to do one thing differently and to be more intentionally creative, what would it be?