Mermaids in the woods

Yesterday was an all-art day: Studio Tour in the late morning and afternoon, and First Friday Artwalk in the evening, going from gallery to gallery and finally to the Museum to admire the current exhibits.

So it's no surprise that impulses to creativity and imagination dominated my distracting thoughts during meditation this morning -- everything from "I could try THIS" and "What if I did THAT" to wonderings about what holds me back, and if I'm really capable of being truly imaginative. Concerns that my current environment is too stable and I'll lose my edge warred with reassuring memories of some of the truly original pieces I've created over the years.

But all those creative thoughts were balanced with the usual shoulds: you need to pay bills today, you need to make an appointment for the dog to be groomed, when are you going to learn your lines, is it possible you've taken on too much, can you really be in a play in December while assistant directing a play in October?

So I was amused, when I emerged from meditation, to look out the window and see my mother-in-law's mermaid sculpture dreaming in the woods -- it seemed so appropriate.  Wherever we humans are, some part of us always seems to dream of being elsewhere.  I suppose at some level that's the engine that keeps us moving forward, but at the same time I suspect that it holds us back.

And I find myself thinking of my disagreements with my husband over raising the kids: I knew they needed praise for what they'd accomplished, and I knew they needed to know they were loved whether or not they accomplished a thing.  But whatever they accomplished, my husband never seemed to say "Good work;" his response was always to ask why they didn't do more.

They've grown up to be very responsible girls, pretty centered, but a little insecure, so I guess the balance we struck wasn't too far off.  But I can't help wondering where perfection lies -- that perfection that results in a balance of serenity, confidence and enough ambition to keep us stepping out into the unknown.  It's inevitable that there will be times when we're out of our comfort zones, when we'll feel like mermaids, dreaming of the sea while we're stuck living in the woods.  But when do we shed our scales, throw on our lumberjackets and head out to forge a new path?

Perhaps it only happens when we allow ourselves time to dream -- and remember that we need to wake up.