Keyword: animal

  • Jailbreak

    “Jailbreak” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available 🔴 Shop this art!

    Remember paint-by-numbers? 

    You know, the beloved craft project in which an image is broken down into sections, each labeled with a number. Fill in each section with the color that corresponds to the ascribed number, and you achieve something that sort of resembles a work of art.

    Kinda, but not really. 

    It might look pretty, but it’s not art.

    It’s a plan. It’s a system. It’s one way of doing things.

    But it’s definitely not art.

    There’s no risk involved. No creativity. There’s none of YOU in the work.

    When you finish building a desk from IKEA, do you stand back and proclaim that you have just created a work of art? 

    No. You were merely following instructions.

    A paint-by-number can be a fun, relaxing way to spend an afternoon.

    Unfortunately, too many of us settle for a paint-by-number life.

    We believe that if we follow the rules, do what we’re told, and stay within the lines, we’ll end up with something that sort of resembles a successful life.

    Kinda, but not really. 

    Oh, it may get you a nice job with a nice benefits package and a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a nice car and 2.5 very nice kids, but I’m not sure that I’d call that a masterpiece.

    Just as a paint-by-number gives you the illusion of having made art, this path gives you the illusion of a well-lived life.

    We didn’t come up with this on our own, of course. Society and governments would very much prefer us to adopt the paint-by-number route. We’ve been conditioned this way, beginning in school.

    The prospect of a paint-by-number life is not all that different from those standardized tests we were given, the kind that can be graded by a machine, where the objective is to fill in each section correctly.  The only difference is that instead of using a number 2 pencil, you get to use color.

    Just not all of them.

    We’re not unwilling participants, however. Part of us craves the comfort and security that comes from embracing a paint-by-number method: “Just tell me what to do to have a safe, comfortable, successful life.” 

    Unfortunately, our best life is not achieved via the safe, predictable, step-by-step path.  

    Safety is an illusion, and doing things the way everyone else is doing them is not the path to happiness. Too many people figure this out in midlife, when the paint-by-number method fails to satisfy.

    We’re not here to live paint-by-number lives.

    Earlier in my career, I searched for a paint-by-number approach. I joined the National Speakers’ Association and got to know many successful people. I tried to copy them, but while they had specific talents and interests and values that contributed to their success, I discovered I had different ones. I searched for a speaker who was also an artist to show me the way. But the few artists I did find weren’t artists in the same way I was an artist, so it didn’t translate. 

    I thought maybe I was looking in the wrong place. I looked to other artists I admired for a roadmap. That also proved fruitless; it turns out that not many artists are all that eager to stand on a stage and speak to a thousand people.

    Lots of experts were happy to sell me their program: “Paint this red and this blue and this green, and you’ll be as happy and successful as I am!”

    That fell short, too. It was as if I had red and blue crayons, but lacked a green one that seemed important. Meanwhile, I also had purple and periwinkle, but I couldn’t find a paint-by-number that also included them.

    I spent many years frustrated and discouraged, unable to find a prescribed path to success that fit my unique talents, interests, and values.

    Finally, I had an epiphany. I didn’t need to wish for or wait until I had the colors someone else had before I could be successful. And those extra colors that didn’t seem to fit were actually an advantage.

    I resonated with this realization from Fred Rogers: “I’ll never forget the sense of wholeness I felt when I finally realized what in fact I really was: not just a writer or a language buff or a student of human development or a telecommunicator, but I was someone who could use every talent that had ever been given to me in the service of children and their families.” 

    I, too, realized that the magic was in combining my seemingly disparate talents. If I took all the crayons I had — even the ones that seemed extra or out of place — I’d be able to create something wholly original. 

    That’s when everything changed, and my career exploded.

    “Escape competition through authenticity.”

    –Naval Ravikant

    I have original paintings for sale. I also sell prints, which are copies of the original. 

    They look similar.

    But one is worth exponentially more.

    “All people are born originals, but many die a photocopy.”

    –St. Carlo Acutis

    It’s easier and feels safer to copy what other people are doing by living a paint-by-number life. Fit in. Follow the rules. Keep on doing what you’ve always done. Keep telling yourself you’re not creative.

    Adultitis would like nothing more for you.

    But here’s the thing: they don’t hang paint by numbers in the Louvre. 

    This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t listen to advice, learn from others, or ever follow best practices. I’m not saying you should strive to be original for the sake of originality. 

    I’m saying you already are an original.

    Or, as Dr. Seuss said, “There is no one alive that is youer than you.”

    You were made to be a masterpiece.

    You are in the process of building a portfolio. Fill it with adventures. Take chances. Try new things. Do things that don’t make sense once in a while.

    Use all the colors you’ve got.

    When you get to the end of your life, and you’re looking back at what you’ve created, please don’t let it be filled with paint-by-numbers.

    Don’t limit your potential by trying to squeeze yourself into someone else’s tame, safe, predictable prescription for success. 

    Confidently be your awesome, wild, original self.

    And make Adultitis go running for the hills.

  • LOLigator

    “LOLigator” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    An alligator can live up to 100 years…

    which is why there’s an increased chance they will see you later.

    One of the midwives who helped Kim on her journey into motherhood had experience working with the Navajo people. She told us about a custom of theirs in which the first person to make a newborn laugh is obligated to throw the family a huge party to celebrate the occasion. According to their tradition, it’s considered the moment in which the baby is fully present and “in the world.”

    I think that’s pretty cool.

    You often see people rejoicing over a baby’s first words, first steps, and first day of school, but never have I heard a big deal made out of a baby’s first laugh. At least not enough to warrant a party to be thrown because of it.

    It’s a striking example of how little we value laughter in our society.

    What’s weird is that laughter is a universally loved activity, and yet, adulthood often finds us treating it as a non-renewable resource, something to be reserved for when our work is done. We leave it out of serious and challenging situations, and grow suspicious of people who do too much of it.

    Which brings me to alligators.

    I don’t know about you, but when I see an alligator, I don’t think, “Here’s a guy who must be the life of every party.” He’s not on my Top 10 list of Animals Who Don’t Take Themselves Too Seriously.

    And yet, when he opens his mouth, it looks like he just heard a good joke.

    Which gives me hope, because I encounter a lot of people walking around with the sunny disposition of an alligator these days. 

    We can all agree that laughter is beneficial. It boosts the immune system (why they say laughter is the best medicine), brings you more energy, lowers levels of pain, and protects you from the dreaded Adultitis. Of course, as we get older and are inundated with Adultitis, laughs can be hard to come by. 

    The good news is that you can literally fake it till you make it. 

    Believe it or not, fake laughter offers the same benefits as real the kind. Certified life coach Katie West says, “Pretending to laugh (or practicing laughter) can alter our body chemistry since our brains can not tell the difference between real and fake laughter.”

    I have experienced a group of people fake laughing, and I can tell you, the vibe shift is real. And when people are practicing fake laughs, real ones bubble up like clockwork.

    Likewise, we can generate more laughter by being intentional about injecting some fun into our routine:

    • Read the funny pages over breakfast.
    • Listen to comedy podcasts on your commute.
    • Get a joke-a-day calendar for your desk.
    • Turn your inanimate objects into Adultitis Booby Traps.
    • Hang out with funny people.
    • Attend an improv show.
    • Read or watch something funny before bed. (At the very least, stop watching the Crisis News Network!)

    Stress continues to be a contributing factor to every single thing that kills us, from heart disease to suicide. Yet the standard operating procedure these days is to trudge through life with furrowed brows and steely determination. But now, more than ever, we should take a cue from the Navajo people and celebrate laughter.

    Every single laugh is a dollar in the economy of the human spirit.

    I get that we live in serious and challenging times, but that doesn’t require us to take ourselves seriously.

    St. Teresa of Ávila, a Spanish mystic and great reformer, once said, “May God protect me from gloomy saints.” 

    One of the greatest things ever is hearing my kids laugh. Whether it’s a silly little giggle or an unbridled belly laugh, there’s no better sound in the world.

    I imagine that God probably feels the same way about his children.

    When we laugh, we are happy and free. During that moment of laughter, we are not worried, anxious, or stressed. And so it must give God great joy to see his children buckled over in laughter, just as it does me with my kids.

    And reminds me just how much Adultitis must hate it.

    All the more reason to make laughter a priority.

    As Charlie Chaplin, one of the world’s greatest Adultitis fighters and a patron saint of comedy, once said, “A day without laughter is a day wasted.”

  • Nope

    “Nope” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Mama said there’d be days like this.

    Sometimes when we’re feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, or sad, we simply need a time out. 

    Or pizza. 

    That was the prescription our midwife gave us after Lucy was born. Kim and I had come into the delivery day mentally depleted, our first child already a few weeks overdue. Then the labor itself was a marathon. After the birth, Kim almost fainted because of a drop in blood pressure. As she recovered, it was on me to put on Lucy’s first diaper and figure out out to dress a four-hour-old (it’s like trying to gift-wrap Jell-O) before clearing an inch of ice from our car so we could drive home from the birth center. 

    The prospect of going home to attend to the 24/7 needs of a newborn was overwhelming, to say the least.  Aware of our exhaustion and sensing our uncertainty, our midwife said, “You know what I want you to do? When you get home, I want you to order in the biggest, cheesiest, gooiest deep-dish pizza ever, and savor it.”

    And we did. It was glorious.

    It was just the little treat we needed to keep going. We still rely on the magical properties of pizza from time to time. 

    Sometimes we require something stronger, like a “sick of it” day. In most workplaces, if you have the flu, a persistent cough, or you’re going through more Kleenex than me watching the opening scenes of “Up,” you get to take a sick day and stay home from work. But what if you have a case of the Mondays (or a case of November)? 

    Kim and I recommend taking a “sick of it” day. (You can still tell your boss it’s a “sick day.”) It’s kind of like playing hooky, but it’s really a chance to shift momentum and throw life a curveball for a change. You can do anything you want, but no work and no chores. Treat yo self. 

    But what happens when those days mama warned us about turn into weeks, or months, or years?

    Our body will tell us if we’re paying attention. I like to think of our negative emotions as a check engine light for our body and soul. You know, the light that illuminates our vehicle’s dashboard to tell us that something’s off. Most people handle it like my father-in-law handled the check engine light on his old Chevrolet Celebrity – with a thick black piece of electrical tape, hiding the light from view. 

    Problem solved!

    Or not. Ignoring a problem rarely works. If you’re in a funk right now or enduring a hard season, it might be time to call a time-out and see what the inner check engine light is trying to tell you.

    I preach the power of optimism. But it’s unrealistic to expect we can go through life on a positive high all the time (and I’m leery about people who seem to do so). 

    Maybe you’re experiencing caregiver fatigue. Maybe it feels like everything you touch turns to shitake. Or maybe you’re burned out from the last three years of pandemic, politics, and pivoting. 

    It’s ok. Welcome to the Human Club. You’re normal!

    We don’t have to be afraid of feeling the feels and examining what they have to teach us.

    Uncomfortability can be useful. We need to pay attention to our inner check engine light, not ignore it with a never-ending Netflix marathon, a bottle of wine, or any of the countless ways we self-medicate to numb ourselves to escape our pain.

    It’s giving us a heads-up that something may need to be addressed. For me, it’s usually a warning that I need to ease up on adding new commitments to my calendar, a reminder to spend more time in my secret hideout, or an invitation to get a little more rest. (Often it’s a combo of all three.)

    This approach from Steve Jobs is a good guide. He said, “For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been no for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”

    Are you in need of a change? It might be time to talk to someone, like a counselor, pastor, or medical professional. Maybe you need to take that difficult first step toward healing a relationship. Or maybe it’s time to finally embark on that new career path.

    Remember, for now doesn’t mean forever. It may feel like there’s no end in sight to the malaise you’re experiencing, but it only seems that way.

    Don’t be afraid to peel back the tape on your check engine light and see what it has to tell you.

    Maybe a gooey, cheesy pizza and a night on the couch is exactly what you need. Maybe a “sick of it” day will do the trick. Or maybe it’s time for a baby step toward a bigger change.

    Let your inner check engine light lead the way.

  • Refuge

    “Refuge” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    The first house I ever lived in was across the street from a fire station.

    Living in a small town meant it was quiet most nights, but you only need to hear those loud sirens wail one time when you’re three years old to experience real terror. And that is why, every single night, my bedtime routine included this statement: “Dad, I’m afraid of the thunder and lightning and the fire trucks.”

    Clearly, loud noise was my weak spot. (Had we lived next to a college football stadium, I suspect marching bands and touchdown celebrations may have made this list.)

    And every single night, my father would simply reply, “That’s ok, Jason. They’re all in bed now.”

    That’s all I needed to hear. It was the perfect recipe for a good night’s sleep.
    For a child, the world is noisy and overwhelming. It feels too big for us. Fortunately, our parents have our backs. They reassure us and help us feel safe. It is comforting to let them take care of the scary stuff. After all, they’ve been around the block. They are big and strong and know everything.

    As we get older, our courage grows. We bravely venture out on our own, exploring the world and trying new things. We gain confidence and slowly become more self-sufficient. But when life gets too scary, or we scrape our knee, we scurry back to them, to a place we know is safe.

    Eventually, you reach the point where your parents are no longer around. Or maybe you catch up with them and are surprised to find they really don’t know everything. What then?

    I don’t know about you, but there are still times when the world feels too big for me. The noise, the pain, the problems…it’s all too much. 

    I’m looking at you, 2020, the flaming dumpster fire only its mother could love. We’ve experienced a pandemic, lockdowns, economic downturns, unrest in our cities, and natural disasters, all in a contentious election year. It’s been overwhelming, constantly trying to make sense of it all and figure out what to do next for my family and business. The moments I feel most overmatched are those when I forget I’m not alone.

    What has saved me this year is my morning routine. Each day, I sit in the pre-dawn light on my rocking chair with a fresh cup of coffee and a pine-scented candle nearby. I read the Bible. I journal. I pray. Sometimes I listen to music or read from a devotional. Sometimes I just sit there, in the quiet, before the kids are up and the world turns on for the day. It is bliss. I never thought I’d ever actually enjoy getting up this early, but now I wouldn’t miss it. It’s like I’m a baby polar bear seeking warm refuge in the shadow of his protective parent.

    Many times, I have confided in my Heavenly Father, “Lord, I am afraid of the virus and the violence and the division.”

    And He responds, over and over again in His Word and in the still small voice in my heart, “It’s ok, Jason. I’ve got this.”

    Our bodies may grow old, but our souls remain young. We are always God’s kids, and we are always yearning for love and safety. Our smallness is a gift because it leads us back to Him, and when we are weak, He is strong.

    My morning quiet times give me just enough to get through the day. I don’t often experience any big revelations. Mostly just reminders.

    When I think, “How am I supposed to navigate all this turmoil?” I am reminded that I don’t have to.

    I am reminded that we were not meant to do this life alone. 

    I am reminded that I can be brave because I have backup.

    Maybe you could use a reminder.

    Maybe you need an invitation.

    If you are navigating 2020 like a boss, by all means, keep on keeping on. But if you feel overwhelmed and out of your league, might I suggest seeking refuge in the shelter of your Heavenly Father, who loves you very much and has got your back.

    When the alarms sound, and the sirens wail, and the world feels too big for you, remember that you have a mighty champion on your side.