I have finally decided to artistically tackle this thing called "suspicion."

How do we treat someone we suspect did something bad? How have others treated you when they thought you did something bad? Could you tell they were suspecting you of something? What did it do to you? How long did it last? How did it come to an end? How long did it take to come to an end? Who did the research to clear your name? Was it you yourself who did the research showing you had not done it, did it work? Were you believed? 

Or did the person(s) suspecting you do the research and clear your name? What were the results then? Or was it a third party who did it? How did that go? 

What were the social dynamics in each scenario. For example if you made the effort to clear your name yourself how did that affect your relationships? Did you feel defensive? How was that received by those who suspected you? Did they believe and trust the results of your research proving your innocence?
 
We all experience being suspected of doing something we did not do at some point or points in life. But it usually (thankfully) gets cleared up somehow and the suspicion is lifted off of our lives. Someone admits doing it and apologises. Or circumstances point to the real culprit and it's all cleared up relatively quickly.

But what if no one admits it and no one says they are sorry? What if the solution has to wait for years to be resolved? Like for example, if it has to be dealt with by the justice system which can take years, what then? What affect would that have on a person?

Here is an example. Knowing the high percentage of divorces in our country these days, this is what Scott Dikkers says... “Statistically speaking, there is a 65  percent chance that the love of your life is having an affair. Be very suspicious.”

So, since the divorce rate is high, he is suggesting that we should all actually distrust and believe something bad about our spouse, even if we have no hard evidence to do so. I would thank that being what suspicion is and dose that this attitude towards your innocent spouse would be devastating to the relationship. That in itself could destroy one's marriage. 

This, for me is an illustration of how devastating suspicion can be.  

Let's for a moment consider what actually happens when we suspect someone? This could be very subtle or it could be very obvious. Would it not include things like lack of trust? Not believing in them. Avoiding them socially. Pushing them away. Not including them in our invitations, our businesses dealings, or our lives. They end up isolated and alone. Marginalized.

Then there is something called a "scape-goat"  which I believe means we have all agreed, on purpose, to blame someone who is actually innocent of the bad thing that happened. Someone has to pay, we say, so we sometimes just chose someone to take the rap. This might make us all feel better, but this persons life is changed forever.
 
I do art. My mind continues working on this. Above is the work of my left brain. Meanwhile, my right brain has begun to take it on and things are beginning to percolate. I am in my studio, "playing in the mud" as my friend Stan always says...but I am a bit worried about where this might all go. Join me in staying tuned!

“We can either emphasize those aspects of our traditions, religious or secular, that speak of hatred, exclusion, and suspicion or work with those that stress the interdependence and equality of all human beings. The choice is yours.  (22)”  
―     Karen Armstrong,   Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life    

So now that I've survived the ups, downs and trauma's of the first year as an art teacher, what should I be doing next year? Should I continue teaching or should I not?  Maybe I should quit!

As the year came slowly to an end I could not help but go there. At times, I thought this was just too much. The stress, pressure, demands, problems and issues were rather overwhelming.
 
Then I read this from one of my special people, Seth Godin. "When you complain that you need ever more specific advice because the general advice just doesn't apply, consider looking for your fear instead....The first step is acknowledging that our problem isn't that special."

OK, right, thanks Seth, I think! When I thought about other teachers, even in St. Aidens where I teach, I certainly was not alone. They were involved, over and above I was for sure. I admired them to no end for the work they did. They were there every day, all day while I was coming only once per week, for three hour! I suddenly realized I was quite the wimp. All I could say was, suck it up Cliff! 

Upon further thought I had to admit that there was a huge upside to my situation also. I realized It certainly was not all negative by any means. As the year progressed I had gained a very new and different understanding of "the therapeutic value of art. My students were changing for the better in many ways. But so was I.
 
I began to realize, watching my students, how art had also been a huge asset in my own personal healing journey. How it had been and was absolutely vital to the processing my personal pain and trauma. Could I really let this go? Was it fair to do that? Would there be regrets?

As the year was ending students and teachers began asking, "Are you coming back next year?" I hesitated, teasing and hedging as I was not sure myself. Everyone was encouraging but also understanding.
 
I'm reading a book called "The Well Played Life" by Lenard Sweet, who says we are taking life way to seriously! We need to learn to play. When we go to the zoo (which we have done with our grandson) we are supposed to delight in the "numbed out" animals in the zoo. We bring our children to see and watch sleeping tigers and polar bears! They might as well be dead as far as the kids are concerned. We try very hard to get them to "enjoy" and to "watch" as we wait for them to make an exciting move, any move for that matter. We forget kids have a different view of life. They just want to play at something. They see stuff right beside the pens that they find way more exciting. Things we don't see at all. We cannot imagine how there can be anything more exciting to watch than the camel in front of us, lying there. My grandson saw a much wider world of interest at the zoo. He was not bored when the lion would not move..."Hay look right here beside the netting's an interesting stick I can actually pick up...(he loves sticks and has a collection of them back home) What can I do with it? Oh see over there is some sand, I can use it to dig or draw in the sand! Look at the interesting groove I've made, what else can this amazing "living" stick do?

Fundamentally, art is just that, play. Adults and children at play, letting their minds go and expressing whatever comes up. I realized, suddenly I needed to see my teaching as play. It's not about "doing it right" or "killing myself with heavy responsibility. If this was the result of my poor, wobbly and uncertain first year of teaching art, what in the world am I worried about? If I would just do even some semblance of perpetration during this summer, how much more impacting could this next year be? Remind you of anything? Somewhere my memory brought up this saying, "when I am weak, than I am strong!"

So thanks to my grandson, I've grabbed the stick and I'm ready to play. Playing at art all through the next school year!" I'm excited already.

"We don't stop playing because we grow old. We grow old because we stop playing" George Bernard Shaw

As many of you know, this past year I did something pretty crazy, I volunteered to teach art at St. Aiden’s Christian School. 

I got the request after I had been asked to do an art show at one of their fundraising banquets. Following that event I was invited to consider teaching art as the position had come open. 
 
I had become aware of the healing powers of art in my own life. When I became aware of the fact that this was a school located
in the inner city set up specifically for “at risk inner city kids” who have not had success in the regular school system. I was interested. 
 
Realising the power of healing I had personally experienced through my own journey of artistic creativity, I felt I possibly had
something I could offer. Also, with my residential Christian Camping experience of working with children, it seemed like a reasonable risk for me to consider taking the position. 

It was not an easy year. I am sure, like me, you have had heard teachers talk about how tough their “first” years of school
really were. Therefore I knew this would be the worst part of the job, getting through the first year. And it was difficult. Every week I was under pressure to come up with a new art class for the students. That was a challenge and the source of a lot of pressure.

 The second challenge was the never knowing what to expect in the classroom. Attendance was inconsistent, and then just difficult
life issues caused mental distress and emotional breakdowns, often right in the classroom.  

I quickly discovered that my class was much more than an art class. It was also about life and how we live it. I spent a lot of
time just being a Dad to these kids answering their questions and sharing of my life. What an honor and humbling experience to realize the trust we have gained towards one another in this classroom. 

I have to also admit that they have been part of making me a better artist. They have kept my artistic mind challenged to work
and grow. They have challenged me to articulate how we conceptualize a thought, problem or feeling. Then how to express that physically for all to see. 
 
It has not always been easy, but wow, has it ever been rewarding.
It has grown me and made me a better artist and person. It has been rewarding to see the students change and grow. For all this I am thankful to the school and to my classroom of amazing students.

"I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists. Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human mind and spirit."  John Steinbeck

Guess what, last week I got back into the studio! 

That might sound rather anemic, so I must say I was back in the studio for more than bringing something or getting something. More than for just dreaming, thinking or journaling. I was really back. Back at work. Back to get my hands into the clay. 

I attend a men’s group every Wed morning, and traditionally I go to the studio after that meeting. One of the guys always says, “Have fun playing in the mud Cliff”. And that’s exactly what I’m doing,
I’m back “Playing in the mud”. 

Another reason I’m back in the studio “working” is because I just can’t take it anymore. I’m going nuts not being creative! I’ve
actually been having nightmares. It certainly helped being Wilma’s “Assistant Artist” but that was about her art, not mine. Still, it was a relief to get back into something creative. 

The other thing I’m constantly battling is the fact that I do have a business to run and whenever I get into my art, my business suffers. My organised lift brain is telling me not to do this, you are
going to mess up your business. You will miss appointments, miss job opportunities, make mental errors in your invoicing or payroll, you will be distracted from what’s important, something important like….making a living! 
 
It is the inner voice of doom, “You do this and your business will suffer, you will get complaints. Projects will fall through the cracks and you will be severely embarrassed and you will lose work,
customers and clients!”

 This of course is a replay of the voices I heard as a kid back home. Then it was along the lines of “Stop sketching and doodling in your scribblers because then you’re not listening to your teacher and you will fail your grade.”  

So, I’ve decided to ignore the voice of the past. The left brain arguments of the present and go with my right brain which is
making me miserable because it is being ignored. This side of my head is dreaming up all kind of things I should create. It’s luring me with dreams and thoughts of mental comfort in creative endeavors. That despite the fact that it will be hot like a sauna in my second floor, un-air-conditioned studio, it will be a very “feel good” and “fulfilling” time spent creating in my studio. Knowing
full well that once I begin a project, which cannot be done in one session, I will be committed to come back, again and again to get the project done! I know, I know, I’m well aware of the guile my right brain is using, but you know, I’m now in its side so I’m listening and going with it. Weird eh?

 “Well ok Cliff,” you say, “so now that your back can you at least tell you what you are doing?”

 Sorry, I know I’m just kind of chatting here and I am doing something. You do see the sketch above right? Well that is as you can see a sword. “Oh no, not another sword!” says my left brain. 
 
I know, my left brain is completely disgusted because I’ve just finally completed this large “Throne of Swords” which consists
of what felt like thousands of swords and kind of decided I’d never make another sword again. By the time I was done I was sword challenged. I was over sworded in every way possible. I did not want to see another clay sword! 
 
Well, my creative 3D right brain realized the importance of the sword metaphor and convinced me that there is another whole
concept that seems to need expression. 

This sketch is inspired by the sword in the stone the future King Arthur pulled out of the anvil and the stone. This was the sword
that no one else could pull out. Men with muscles, men with high leadership skills, men with important positions in society, no matter who it was, no one could pull out the sword. 

This is a quick summary of the story. Arthur becomes orphaned as a child when his father the king dies. Merlin arranges for him to be raised by foster parents, the father’s name being Sir Ector who has a son named Sir Kay. They have no idea this child is of kingly descent. Thinking he’s a bastard child they look down on him. Sir Kay and his friends tease and taunt him.  Arthur grows up in
shame of his own birth, never knowing of his true lineage. 
 
One day when Arthur’s was around 15 years of age, the family goes to a tournament. Arthur is squire to Sir Ector and Sir Kay. At
one point, Sir Kay breaks his sword and they send Arthur home to get another. Passing the sword sticking out of the rock, Arthur goes over and draws it out, bringing it back to Sir Kay. He, seeing the inscription on the sword, "Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone, is the right wise born king of all England." realizes immediately that it’s the sword from the stone. Both him and Sir Ector cannot believe that this scrawny 15 year old kid could have pulled this sword out of the stone. 

To make a long story short, Merlin shows up and confirms that he is the rightful heir and in due time Arthur is crowned king. 

How was it that he could pull this sword out of the stone? He was worthy and he was of the right family line. His father had been the king of England. Merlin knew this and had prepared Arthur for this moment. 

Here is what I know. This is my story. First, I have become a member of the right family line. Secondly, I have been prepared in many ways for this. I am making a sword which is sticking not out of a rock or anvil but out of a pile of rope. I have actually done this metaphorically. I have drawn this sword out of this rope, cutting it in the process. The deliverance it has brought me is huge, beyond words, and gets magnified every day of my life. 

This sword will be easy to make. This one is fun and is done with a heart full of wonder and gratitude.