Kicking the Bucket List
Just being in the ever-sacred present
Over the years, people have casually asked me what’s on my bucket list. When I tell them I’ve never had one, their faces gloss over.
Nothing is wrong with having a list of what one wants to do and/or accomplish in the future. But I will steadfastly remain list-free. Maybe it’s because years ago, I almost kicked the bucket for real. Living was the goal, so just being alive nowadays is sufficient for me.
I have no grand expectations of myself or the future.
Maybe I don’t have a bucket list because I try to live in the present, as well as block out the stress and anguish of the past and future. This is my goal. But I’m not always successful. No matter how I try to focus on the present, turbulent world events have shaken me to the core. Two days ago I hit a low – I cowered under the weight of an alarming-to-me future.
So I did the only thing that brings me peace: I mechanically sat at my art table and proceeded to paint. As I was initially setting up my paints and such, I felt that nothing could sway my feelings of hopelessness. But as my paint-loaded brush touched the canvas, my emotional pain started dissipating. In a short time, I was able to let go of the anxiety about the future and hold onto the present.
And that’s when I realized that I’m living my dream. Nothing more can improve my life.
Engaging with art is such a wonderful gift, where worry doesn’t exist and the past and future fall away. It doesn’t matter to me how “good” a painting turns out or how “well-known” I become. Living in the present through art gives me a rush of joy. If you have been reading my Substack for awhile, you know I value the process of creating art over the final result. For me, the journey is so much more important than the destination, although, of course, seeing a final painting is completely enjoyable.
Before I discuss my next Arizona landscape draft, I want to say that I enjoy interacting with my fellow creatives on Substack, individuals whom I am grateful for, admire, and who’ve positively affected me. I love learning from the following people, among others:
Stephanie Raffelock, for her honest, brave, and exquisite writing and perspectives.
Nancy Stordahl, for her candor, wonderful writing, courage, and advocacy.
Patty Bee, for her honesty, courage, and amazing writing. Plus, like me, she’s from the Bronx, NY, and I’ve enjoyed discussing with her all about the parallel lives we’ve lived.
Alene Nitzky, visual artist extraordinaire, whose abstract art, business savvy, and hard work I so admire.
Gerard Wozek, for his beautiful travelogues, and his ability to transport us to wonderful places and spaces through his prose and poetry.
Robin Payes, for her stellar writing and humanity, and for introducing me to new ideas and new ways of writing.
Deborah Gregory, for her exquisite poetry that transports me to a heavenly place, and who has shown great humanity and kindness.
Marie Ennis-O’Connor, whom I have been lucky to know for years, and who is an extraordinary writer and extraordinary human being.
Nancy Hesting, who consistently writes honestly, at times with tongue-in-cheek humor that I enjoy.
Susan Gallacher-Turner, who makes beautiful visual art, including gorgeous pictures and clay renderings.
Rea de Miranda, who writes eloquently and has produced exquisite poetry.
Lin Gregory, who puts together gorgeous photography that tells stories, complemented by her beautiful writing.
The Art
This week I revised the Arizona landscape draft, adding a semblance of clouds that I hope to make fuller with the next revision. I’m not sure if the mountain is finished. There, I added lighter tones, composed of Indian Yellow, Titanium White, and some Alizarin Crimson.
My goal was to create an impressionistic Arizonascape that departed a bit from the reference photo, as fine details were sometimes difficult to see. I added an impression of horizontal grooves, as well as mimicked the cavelike structures in the reference photo.
I had fun with the below draft. Stay tuned for the next revision.
Dear Beth, your reflections feel like such tender, hard won truths! I resonate deeply with all that you share. That after everything I’ve lived through too, simply being here, writing in this present moment, is already the dream. Thank you for finding the words and bringing me back to "Here."
I love that you’re living your best life not through striving or future lists, but through presence, colour and the steady creative courage of returning to your art table when the world outside feels too loud and heavy. I know a little of the peace you speak of and how clock time dissolves.
Your Arizona landscape draft carries that same grounded joy ... a kind of quiet breathing space on canvas. Following your art in these instalments is such a joy. And from one campfire‑girl heart to another, I’m delighted to be part of the glow you tend. Thank you for keeping the fire bright. 💖🙏🔥
Living in the present--why is this so challenging! I applaud how you strive for that being-ness, Beth. When you describe your painting flow, you sound so contented. I so admire this.
Over the past week, I, too, have felt overwhelmed by the world and its discontentments. Even when I set myself to writing, I keep hearing the blastings of battle in my mind's ear, smelling smoke in faraway places, seeing streams of people pouring out their homes to wander--who knows where. I don't know what's worse--following the news, or giving in to my imagination.
Some days it feels hopeless. But today, outside my kitchen, the sun is shining. There are buds beginning to sprout on the forsythia. The birds trill their songs.
I cycle through the dread of winter and into spring's daring, despite us all.
Thank you for all you do--and your gracious nod.
And to those of us so engaged, like the forsythia in early spring, keep creating and sharing your beauty!