The snow-capped Rocky Mountains surround me like ancient grandparents who want to tell me their stories and pass their wisdom on to me. There are no fresh words to describe this level of jaw-dropping beauty. Majestic, timeless, awesome, are overused. Yet every time I sit and witness this scene, I feel refreshed, renewed.
So if these mountains could talk, what would they say to artists today? Somehow, I imagine their lessons would be about authenticity. You cannot look at these mountains and not feel their “being”ness. They are solid, dependable and real.
I think artists are called upon to be authentic, too. We are called upon to be observers and witnesses to our surroundings and to report back to society through our writings, paintings, sculptures, poems, and more. And I truly believe that the more real and solid we are, the more effective and inspiring our work will be to others.
Perhaps these mountains would also teach us how to be unwavering in our belief of ourselves and encourage us to call upon all our strength to do the work that’s involved in fulfilling our purpose on this planet. Perhaps they would tell us to rest in the majestic, awesome, timelessness within, and connect to our own “being”ness.
Geologists tell us that this is the second set of mountains to form in this place. The peaks of the current Rockies, soaring up to 14,000 feet and higher, were created from the remains of the ancestral Rockies from millennia before. So, too, it seems that artists today stand on the shoulders of every artist who came before us. Not only the Michelangelo’s and Jane Austin’s, but those who did their art faithfully and honestly and were perhaps not remembered for it. Indeed, we all stand on the shoulders of giants.
So when I stand on the magnificent Rockies, I am reminded and re-inspired to do my work, sand grain by sand grain, my piece of moving humanity forward by being an artist. Make sure you do yours, as well.
P.S. My first novel, Seeking Sara Summers , is available on Kindle, as well as iBooks and Barnes and Noble (on the Nook).
