R E L E A S E

 “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”
  — Leonardo Da Vinci

I like the word “released” better than “abandoned.”  It aligns more fully with my personal, positive outlook on life.  However, at the heart of it, the meaning is the same: works of art are never completed by the artist, they are eventually allowed to exist in the world as they are.  There is always more to do; there is always another refinement to make.  

Today, I walked into a small, unassuming building in Naperville, IL.  I held in my hands a roll of paper towels, a box of old paintbrushes, a thermo-bag with my lunch…and a travel mug half-filled with coffee.  When I walked out, 6 1/2 hours later, I carried one extra item: an oil painting, freshly-painted and newly-released by the artist.  

My wife and my sons loved it.  They all said it was wonderful.  My oldest was in awe of it; he couldn’t believe what I brought home.  My youngest said it was beautiful.  My wife said, “It’s incredible.”  I had to smile, of course.  How could I not?  As if my family’s biased-yet-rave reviews weren’t enough, I had the knowledge that I finally, after almost 20 years, produced a completed work of art with my own hands.  Well, if not completed, then certainly released…

And that was the point all along, at least for me.  I cannot count the number of conversations I have had with friends, loved ones, coaches, and mentors in the past few weeks that have pointed me in the same directions.  All paths led to this today, to this exercise in release.

Greater than the fear of completing a thing is the fear of beginning.  If you never begin, then you can never be judged.  Without a commitment to start a project, one can never have the disappointment in knowing the commitment did not bare the fruit one anticipated.  Ultimately, it is judgment that I fear, and it is this fear of judgment that has kept this artist’s hands motionless.  I have been crippled for nearly 20 years.  And now, miraculously, I can paint.

My forearms ache, for no good reason.  My hands feel warm, tingly, like a current is running through them.  I look at the ends of my arms, and I see hands that I barely recognize.  They are my hands.  Yes. They are my hands.

But it was never about the work itself.  The subject could have been anything.  What did I paint?  It doesn’t matter…it’s irrelevant.  It didn’t come from my head.  I didn’t prime the canvas.  I didn’t mix the colors.  Someone else walked me through the process.  But none of that matters.  What matters is that I committed, I began, I worked through it, I came to a logical stopping point.  Most importantly, though, I released.

I released.

I released without someone else’s seal of approval.

I released without judgment.

I released, completely and utterly satisfied with the day’s efforts.  

Could I have done more?  Sure.  Could I still do more?  Sure.  Could it have been better?  Yes.  Could I have asked for more help?  Certainly.  But, none of that matters.  What happened…happened.  Nothing more, nothing less.  All was as it was meant to be.

And I released.

Today, there could not have been a greater victory.