Tying a Bag of Dog Shit on the Side of the Road

You know you have found your people, your tribe, your wolf pack, the ones who see you and tap their foot to the song your soul sings in the smallest ways. 

Simple hints that indicate a shared experience. 

Easily missed if one isn’t paying attention. 

When you are standing on the side of the road attempting to tie a bag of dog shit without getting any of it on your fingers while the dog is trying to chase a squirrel. 

Some people will drive right on by without slowing down or giving you extra room. 

Others will slow, give you a wide berth, and give you a slight nod—maybe even the two-finger dirt road wave—an acknowledgment of the procedure you are attempting. 

These are the people who have gotten their hands shitty.
They know. 

Standing with a group of women, one mentions a lousy night of sleep due to a hot flash.
Some in the group look on with sympathy, “Oh, that must be rough,” 
In contrast, a few others nod vigorously, genuinely understanding the wildly uncomfortable and prickly heated sensation of a hot flash. 
They reach for each other and clasp hands. 
“Why did no one explain?” 
They find solace in each other. 
They find solace in this shared experience. 

Gathering with a group of artists is similar. 

“Last year, I couldn’t keep up. My art was selling so fast. This year, I don’t think I could give it away. Should I give up and go into computer programming?”

“You’re in the desert. It will pass.” 

“Keep painting.”

“Give it more time. Computers will always be there.” 

“Please don’t give up.”

Or deeper still -

“We will help you, don’t worry.”

”I’ll be there.”

“I’ll watch your dog while you’re away.”

These people.
The ones who see.
They look past your eyes and into your soul.
They see the magic in you and hear the music in your heart. 

These people may be strangers on the road warily eyeing your bag of dog shit, a woman you’ve just met who is stripping off all her layers in a coffee shop, or an artist you’ve just locked eyes will across the aisle and you know it’s their first art fair too.

These shared experiences make us part of something larger, part of a community - “You are not alone in your too-thin-and-too-small-of-a-plastic-bag dog shit struggles!” 

I have recently become hyper-aware of my community, and to say that I appreciate this group I’ve found myself amongst is more than an understatement—it’s an undershoutment. 

My appreciation radiates from behind my belly button, out through my toes and fingers. It undulates from my eyelashes to the very tips of the universe. 

I have the most fantastic community! 

I don’t know these people but this is what it feels like in my heart.

AND my orbit keeps getting bigger, and with each new ring, I add another super amazing, cool, awesome human person. 

Sometimes I wonder - what did I do to deserve such an awe-inspiring group of people that I get to call my friends, business partners, and fellow artists? 
A group that is generous beyond measure with time, knowledge, and encouragement.

The only answer I can come up with is one that I say with all humility while being incredibly proud of Past Jill—I did the internal work to overcome the intimidation I would have felt had I met any of these people ten years ago. 
(Haha, okay, five years ago, work takes time.)

I have mostly overcome my enviousness of their skills, talents, and achievements and come to these people from a place of hunger and curiosity. 
I don’t have time to be intimidated. I want to learn from them, walk around in their brains, and examine all the boxes of experiences and childhood trauma that shape who they have become.

I say mostly because there are still many days when I walk into the gallery and say, “Goddammit, Colleen!” because she has painted yet another masterpiece with stunning color, composition, and value. I stand there stunned and overflowing with envious goo at her skill level, ignoring that she has been on the planet and painting much longer than I have.

Colleen and a few others aside, putting down intimidation in favor of learning and being part of a lovely group of people has been well worth swallowing the pride and ego it took to get here.    

What has swallowing your ego gotten you? 

Or does it still lead? 

Who makes you weak at the knees with envious goobers?