Unconditional Love

Backstory: A week ago, Chuck and I talked about taking Lucie to the Ugly Mug for Saturday-morning coffee. Come Saturday I dressed Lucie in her bright-orange harness. We were ready to have some fun.

For twenty minutes, I used all my tricks (chicken treats, tennis ball, sweet-talk) to get Lucie to jump into Punk’n—our Jeep Wrangler. We walked back and forth in the freezing wind. She peed. She pooped. She gave me the look—NO WAY, Mama.  

I marched Lucie into the house, slammed the door, and stomped around for at least an hour, totally ignoring her. I was angry—really angry. An observer would mistake me for a demented monkey on steroids.

Eventually, Lucie sat down in front of my rants. She looked up at up at me with her liquid-chocolate eyes, as if to say, “What’s wrong with ME, Mama? I love YOU unconditionally.” With that I burst into tears and gave her a huge, sloppy nose kiss.  Once again, Lucie taught me a lesson: Unconditional love is unconditional love.

My mind wandered to my artwork. During the past week I worked and re-worked a series that got worse with each swipe of the palette knife. It was a hot mess. I cried. This time my anger was directed at me. “What’s wrong with you? Your artwork sucks. Buy a bowling ball and move on with your life.”

What really sucks, though, is my attitude. As an artist I will NOT create a “masterpiece” each time I apply paint to canvas.  My dear friend, Pam Seeley, reminded me breakthroughs in art come from asking yourself questions about your work—the good, the bad, and the really ugly.

Breakthroughs happen when you’re actively in the process of creating. The more you create, the more likely you will experience a breakthrough. And now for the clincher: Breakthroughs are not associated with instant gratification, but rather, steady progress.

So, buying a bowling ball is not in my future. Instead, I look at Lucie and remember—unconditional love is unconditional love. I think about Pam’s reminder—breakthroughs equal steady progress.

Thank you, Lucie.

Thank you, Pam.

I’m off to paint.

Blue-green Tears

Judith Kolva, artist