“Enjoy the Ride” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD. 🔴 Shop this art!
This painting was inspired by my family’s trip to Mexico, the beautiful tradition of Dia de Muertos, and thoughts of loved ones who have come before.
Life can seem like such a slog sometimes. A constant struggle of trying to get ahead, putting out fires, and overcoming one obstacle after another.
It can feel like we’re in survival mode, and it takes everything we’ve got just to make it through the day.
It’s easy to grow tired and become discouraged, maybe even bitter and a little angry.
This is because we don’t have perspective.
Our ancestors, who have already traversed this lifespan and have seen what’s beyond, have a different perspective than we do.
They are now able to see the big picture. They went through the valleys, but their purpose was ultimately revealed. They have the full understanding that the journey is shorter than we realize. Like us, they experienced darkness, but they have received the gift of perspective that allows them to see the beauty in it all.
If the loved ones who have gone before us could give us advice, it might just be this: enjoy the ride.
“Looking for Orcas” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
I’ve heard that God always answers prayers. Sometimes the answer is no. Sometimes, he says yes in ways that seem like a no.
During a family vacation in the Pacific Northwest, one of the things I wanted to see was an orca.
We heard stories of a mama and her baby being spotted in Puget Sound. We kept our eyes peeled on the ferry ride to Victoria. Our vacation home was on a bay on the Olympic Peninsula, and every wave in the distance seemed like it could be a killer whale in the process of surfacing.
We never saw one. We could have booked a sightseeing tour, but time and weather, and the ages of our kids conspired against us. Maybe next time.
As I have reflected on this minor disappointment, and through the act of creating this painting, something occurred to me. God knew I wanted to see an orca, but because he knows me so deeply, he also knew why I wanted to see one, before even I did.
I had to stop and ask myself, Why did I want to see an orca in the wild?
I wanted to experience God’s creation in a powerful way.
I wanted to see something I’d never seen before.
I wanted to have a remarkable experience with my children.
I wanted a neat encounter with an animal.
As it turns out, I did all of those things, and I never saw one orca.
I marveled at the breathtaking vistas of Hurricane Ridge.
Our vacation home was on a beach filled with thousands of crabs. Never saw anything like that before.
Between our mountain hike, the ferry rides, the view from the Space Needle, and a spin on Seattle’s Great Wheel, there was no shortage of remarkable experiences to be shared with my kids.
And feeding some harbor seals with a $2 bag of fish heads was a pretty neat animal encounter.
I didn’t get what I asked for. But somehow, I still got what I wanted.
Time and time again in my life, I didn’t get things that I asked for.
I thought I wanted to marry a brunette. God knew what I really wanted was a beautiful, smart, and thoughtful wife who believed in me. He also made her blonde.
I wanted to use my art to make a living and shine light and goodness in the world. I asked for it in the form of being a professional syndicated cartoonist. That never materialized. But here I am, using my art to make a living and shine light and goodness in the world in a way that I never could have imagined, but I am excited to say is even better.
Sometimes we miss the answer to our prayers because we’re looking in the wrong place.
“Wind In Our Sails” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
This painting was inspired by a family vacation to Mexico. One thing that was abundantly clear in the week we were there is that the Mexican people love their color. When you’re accustomed to everything being Pottery Barn beige and gray, it really stands out.
I wanted to incorporate that vibrant, whimsical color, along with one of the culture’s great traditions, Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. I think it is a beautiful way to look at the afterlife and the ancestors who went before us. I appreciated the idea of seeing death as a part of the life process, rather than an end in itself.
I also liked the focus on how much we owe to the people who came before us. In American culture, the independent spirit of the individual is celebrated. That’s fine, as far as it goes. Except that there is no such thing as a self-made man or woman. No one becomes successful by themselves. Yes, your unique talents and a fiery self-determination are key ingredients for success.
But life is a group effort.
I was thinking about the people in my own life who have passed away. Not just family members, but teachers and coaches who served as mentors, too. Every one of them taught me something that I carry with me to this day.
My Grandma K. made me feel like I was special, just as I was.
My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, encouraged me to take my artistic talent seriously.
My Little League coach, Mr. Dawson, helped me believe that I was a winner.
When I was an uncertain teenager, Deacon Vince saw me as a grown-up with valuable contributions to make.
Each of us is like that tiny sailboat. At times, it can feel like we are drifting, alone, on a vast and overwhelming sea.
But we are not alone.
We have the wisdom, given to us by the people in our lives who have gone before us, charting our course. They have touched our lives, and their examples live on, showing us the way.
And their words live on as the wind in our sails, guiding us into a bright and colorful future.
“Half Full” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
I like to think of myself as an optimistic person. After all, I am a lifelong Cubs fan who always believed in the hope-filled power of next year. Then again, when they lose three games in a row these days, feeling certain that they’ll never win another game again seems pretty pessimistic.
The truth is, I’m probably a little bit of both.
The optimistic side of me believed that Penguins Can’t Fly would be a New York Times bestseller. It wasn’t.
This defeat, along with a number of other epic failures in my career, bolsters the popular argument that I should minimize the risk of pain and defeat by keeping my expectations low.
This strategy of operating with low expectations is employed by many. The thinking goes that if you don’t get your hopes up about something, then you won’t be as disappointed if it doesn’t work out. And if it turns out well, you’ll get the enjoyment of being pleasantly surprised.
As it turns out, it’s a flawed strategy.
According to neuroscientist Tali Sharot, people with high expectations always feel better because how we feel depends on how we interpret the event.
When a person with high expectations succeeds, they attribute it to their own traits. When they fail, it wasn’t because they were dumb; it was because the exam was unfair, and next time they’ll do better. When a person with low expectations fails, it was because they were dumb, and if they succeed, it’s because the exam happened to be really easy, and next time reality will catch up with them.
Secondly, regardless of the outcome, anticipation makes us happy. It’s why people prefer Friday to Sunday: it brings the anticipation of the weekend ahead.
Finally, optimism acts as a self-fulfilling prophecy. Believing we will be successful makes us more likely to be so, and optimism reduces stress and anxiety, leading to better health.
When a container is at 50% capacity, it is half full.
But technically, it’s also half empty.
Both are absolutely correct assessments of the container in question.
If the label you give it is completely subjective, go with the one that gives you the best chance of going somewhere beyond what you thought was possible.
So many of our life experiences could be seen in the same light. We lose a job. We break a leg. We get dumped by the one we thought was The One. Is that unexpected, unwelcome thing that just happened in your life an obstacle or an opportunity?
Yes.
Both are absolutely correct assessments of the event in question.
Deciding what you call it can make all the difference.
Was Penguins Can’t Fly a failure?
Upon further review, believing that it had a chance of becoming a bestseller led me to put in a lot of effort. It pushed me to think of new and creative ways to promote it, and it got me out of my comfort zone by asking for help. All of these things made a difference. No, it wasn’t a NYT bestseller, but three printings later, and after having outsold my advance (something most published authors never do), it was a success.
It turns out that optimism is attributed to that success. Without it, I would have always wondered what might have been.
I don’t know if I’m naturally optimistic or not. These days, even though I still feel fearful about getting my hopes up only to have them dashed, I’m realizing it’s more of a choice than a disposition.
We all get to make that choice every single day. To me, there’s really no contest.
“Roam” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
Starting at younger and younger ages, kids are expected to begin thinking about what they want to do with their lives. I feel bad for them, because between increasing homework loads and more demanding extracurricular commitments, they are given less and less free time to figure out who they are and what lights them up.
No matter how old you are, a little space to roam can make a big difference.
After three grueling years producing his show, Sam and Friends, Jim Henson was burned out and ready to give up on puppetry. Then he left for a yearlong walkabout in Europe. He took in puppet performances throughout the continent, impressed by how appreciated the art form was outside the United States. “Until then, I hadn’t taken puppetry all that seriously,” Henson said. “It just didn’t seem to be the sort of thing a grown man works at for a living.” But Henson returned from Europe energized and inspired, and would eventually create The Muppet Show and Sesame Street.
I like the idea of a gap year, which is typically a period of time taken between high school and college to deepen practical, professional, and personal awareness. I’ve also heard of people taking them mid-career, or married couples who take them when they become empty nesters, to re-establish their relationship as it enters a new phase.
Every once in a while, we all need a bit of time and space to wander, wonder, and think about what’s next.
I love this definition of roam: To go to different places without having a particular purpose or plan.
Here’s another good one: To move about or travel aimlessly or unsystematically, especially over a wide area.
The next step in our life journey is not always evident. Perhaps you are in a season that calls for some aimless travel, even if it’s just spending a few days outside of your normal routine.
Sometimes we need to break free from the day-to-day.
Sometimes we have to roam a bit to find ourselves.
“Life’s A Wave” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
The familiar pit formed at the bottom of my stomach like a butterfly battle royal on pay-per-view. It developed after my mom answered the phone and told me it was for me.
When I was younger, I was afraid of just about everything. New situations always brought an enormous level of anxiety, and phone calls delivered a special level of dread.
It was a classmate on the other end, asking if I wanted to come over to play.
For most people, this would be great news, not a situation worth getting nauseous over. But I was not most people. I’ve never been keen on having my plans changed at the last minute. I had a whole day planned of doing nothing ahead of me. Not to mention, I’d never been to Chris’s house before. Talk about a new situation! It was clearly a sensory overload too treacherous for a lazy Saturday.
I quickly mumbled some excuse about how my mom wouldn’t let me today and hung up. “Whew! That was close,” I thought to myself, eager to return to my regularly scheduled day of surprise-free comfort.
Only one problem: my mom heard.
She ordered me to call my friend back up to tell him I could go. Gulp. That wasn’t at all embarrassing! “Hey Chris…hehe…good news…”
The thing is, I ended up having a great time. There were many similar situations in my childhood in which my mom shoved me out of the nest, and I almost always enjoyed it. Eventually, I started to make little leaps on my own. At some point, I decided I didn’t want to be an 80-year-old guy looking back on my life, wondering, “What if?”
The fear of regret became worse than the fear of the unknown.
Life can be a spectator sport if you want it to be. You can watch the action standing safely on the shore. It’s the best way to minimize risk, avoid failure, and stay comfortable.
The only problem is that it’s not much of a life.
The real action happens out in the surf. To ride the wave of an amazing life, you have to be willing to leave the shore.
Sometimes you have to take the plunge into parenthood even though you don’t think you’re ready.
Sometimes you have to cash in your rainy day fund for a venture that might not work.
Sometimes you have to book that trip today, because you never know how many tomorrows you have left.
I cannot guarantee that you won’t wipe out now and again. But the bumps and bruises that accompany a wipeout are more tolerable than the deep ache of wondering “what if?”
“Pie in the Sky” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
In December of 2016, I wrote the biggest check of my life. Not in size, but in importance. It was the final check to close out a business debt that totaled $100,000 back in 2008. We paid it off seven months early, and for the first time since we launched in 2000, the business was completely debt-free.
That felt really, really good.
Deep down, I always knew we’d pay it off, but it seemed like it would take forever. In 2008, the year 2017 seemed a million years away. And before that, as we racked up said debt staying afloat while we tested business models, and funded small successes (and a few big defeats), surviving — let alone thriving — seemed pie in the sky.
At least it did when we spent two whole days at a craft show in Milwaukee and only sold $7.94 in greeting cards.
Or when my hometown newspaper, which ran my comic strip free for a whole year, decided to drop it when I asked for $10 a week.
Or when we were down to the last $100 in our bank account more times than I care to remember.
Pie in the sky.
Coined in a song written in 1911 by a Swedish-born American named Joe Hill, we understand “pie in the sky” as something good and pleasant to contemplate, but very unlikely to be realized.
I don’t know what the odds were of us actually building a real business with no experience, no proven business model, and no money. Were they as long as the Cubs rallying from a 3-1 series deficit to win the World Series? Or as unlikely as the Patriots coming back from 25 down with a little over a quarter to play to win the Super Bowl?
The real question is this: How great does the deck have to be stacked against you before you give up, labeling your dream as pie in the sky?
Only you can answer that, and every person has a different one. But we are often too quick to chalk something up as pie in the sky when it really isn’t. It can keep us from even starting. It lets us off the hook, thinking our dream was impossible anyway, because sacrifice and hard work and hope — yes, even hope — hurts sometimes.
I don’t write this to place myself on a pedestal. If I have done anything well, it has been to persist. But my persistence was fueled by a belief that God placed this dream deep in my heart, and that he would see it through. Every day I woke up thinking, this could be the day — the day that we got our big break and everything would turn around. Some of the things that seemed to be big breaks turned out to be pathetic spurts and epic fails. Mostly, we got a lot of small breaks that added up to something pretty great. It certainly tested every bit of my patience and nerve and good sense, and made me question my sanity on more than thirty-seven occasions, but here we are.
Not everything is worth seeing through till the end. As we grow, our dreams and desires, and priorities can change. But don’t be tricked into stopping just because the odds seem long. Everything is impossible until it isn’t.
Yes, the odds may be long. Your stamina may be depleted. Your hope may be dim.
But if the cause is great enough and your soul is on board and your motive is pure, keep going.
You may just be able to grab that pie and eat it, too.
“100% Chance of Awesome” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
Awesome opportunities are everywhere in life. Sometimes they come disguised as monsoons.
A few years ago, our basement sprung a leak and we were left with a mess. After months of moping, we asked, “What does this make possible?” We ended up transforming it into a studio for me, an office for my wife, and a play area for the kids. A previously little-used space is now our favorite room in the house.
When something unexpected turns up, you have a choice: Dwell on the negative and listen to the fear, or open yourself to the possibility that something good is just around the corner.
Becoming unexpectedly unemployed could be the spark that gets you to start that business.
Becoming unexpectedly single could be the open door to a relationship beyond your wildest dreams.
Becoming unexpectedly ill could be an opportunity to get closer to the most important people in your life.
Life doesn’t always go as planned, but the next time a storm blows through yours, practice looking for what good thing it now makes possible. Do that, and you can expect a 100% chance of awesome.
