Keyword: hawaii

  • Dawn Is Coming

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

    It is always dawn somewhere in the world. That fascinates me. When someone is in the middle of the blackest night, someone half a world away is experiencing the joy of a new day. That’s how life is: seasons of light, seasons of dark.

    I can hardly believe that just a little over a year ago, my family was on Lanikai Beach, watching the sun rise over these two small islands called Na Mokulua, aka the Mokes. I was booked to speak in Honolulu, and this trip seems like an even greater blessing considering how this year has unfolded.

    Some days, Kim got up to watch the sunrise while I stayed back as the kids slept. Some days we traded places. And a few times, we went together as a family. Every morning’s show was unique, but always spectacular; a living watercolor painting, with a cavalcade of new colors seeping into the sky. The kids enjoyed scouring the beach for treasures that the sea brought forth during the night.

    I can’t help but wonder now, after this slog marathon of a year, if I’ll ever go back there with my family. And I don’t necessarily mean that specific beach, but any beach, far away from any fear wrought by a pandemic, or civil unrest, or a divided nation. I wonder if a time will ever come when the future looks bright, and hope isn’t constantly being trampled underfoot. Will this dark night ever lift?

    But then I remember something about that week. We didn’t have to tune in to the television meteorologist to tell us if the sun would rise each day. We didn’t have to wonder, or cross our fingers and hope for the best. It did, just like it always does.

    We were also on the beach at night a few times, when it was so dark the ocean could only be heard, not seen. I didn’t bother worrying that it might stay that way indefinitely. The sun would most certainly rise again, in time.
     
    And yet, when we find ourselves in the middle of a dark and lonely season of life, it can feel like the sun will never shine again. But alas, it is always darkest just before dawn. 

    Maybe you find yourself there, right now.

    There is no reason to lose hope. You just need to hold on. Dawn is coming.

    It always does.

    Another thing to consider. Even though we had gotten up early and made it to the beach, had we been looking west, we would have missed the sunrise entirely. It still would have happened, but we wouldn’t have seen it. 

    Perhaps you’ve been missing some of the magic currently happening in your life because you’re not looking in the right place. In some ways, this has been a dreadful year. But in others, it has exploded with new opportunities and unveiled some hidden blessings.

    And so yes, I am confident that although things seem bleak at the moment, this pandemic too shall pass. Darkness will dissipate, and we will see that we weren’t as divided as we thought we were. And we will be back on the beach to soak in the sun and bask in the blessings that arrived during the night.

    This painting is a reminder that in these dark nights of the soul, sometimes we need patience and sometimes we need a new perspective.

    Either way, dawn is coming.

  • 93% Weird

    “93% Weird” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 40. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴  Shop this art!

    Many fruits have a similar vibe. You get some variations in color and texture, but “round” is pretty much the regular shape.

    Even the tomato, which I grew up being taught was a vegetable, wants to get in with the fruit group. And upon a quick glance, we say, “Sure, whatever, you seem to fit the description.”

    And then there’s the pineapple.

    Compared to most fruits, pineapples are weird. Unfortunately, weird isn’t usually a compliment.

    Before I take the stage for a speech, at the very end of my introduction, there is a passage that talks about me “spending time with my beautiful wife and three weird kids.”

    It’s always fun – and telling – to see how the introducer handles this bit. Sometimes they read it as is, but other times they are quick to uncomfortably interject, “I didn’t write that!” I’ve even had some who eliminate it altogether. 

    Ultimately I exclaim to them that, in our household, being called “weird” is a badge of honor. For example, one day, my wife was telling my oldest daughter that it’s OK to be weird. It makes life more interesting, she said, and like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, the things that make us weird are often our greatest superpowers. She informed Lucy that being weird makes life better.

    The next day, we heard Lucy asking her little brother, “Ben, are you weird?”

    “No,” he replied, innocently.

    “Then you’re going to have a horrible life.”

    Now don’t get me wrong. It is possible to be too weird. “Licking-the-salt-from-almonds-and-putting-them-back-in-the-bowl” kind of weird. Or “owning-thirty-seven-cats-and-dressing-them-all-to-look-like-Taylor-Swift” weird.

    So the rule of thumb in our family is that you should shoot for 93% weird; anything after that is just too much. 

    The cold hard truth is that most of us aren’t anywhere near that level of weird. 

    When we were kids, at the very beginning, we were all weird. We made up weird games, had weird bedtime routines, enjoyed weird hobbies, and dressed up in weird clothes in weird combinations. But eventually, someone sees us living our bliss, decides it’s weird and shames us. We get made fun of in the schoolyard, on the bus, or across the dinner table. For the first time, it occurs to us that some of the things we do might be looked upon with contempt by another person.

    From then on, we start paying attention. We start noticing what’s “in” and what’s not. We take heed of the things that could get us ridiculed, singled out, and shamed. And we stop doing them. We smooth out the rough edges and start hiding our weirdness. And one by one, little parts of us die.

    Possibly the greatest tragedy of our lives is that we spend so much time conforming to the world around us, just to avoid that feeling of shame ever again.

    And the world is worse off for it.

    “Ridicule is the terrible witherer of the flower of the imagination. It binds us where we should be free.”–Madeleine L’Engle

    People only have the power to shame us if we give it to them. When we surrender our weird, we are imprisoning ourselves and handing over the key. It’s too expensive to pay attention to what everyone else thinks.

    Because when we do, and as Adultitis settles in…

    Our choices become limited.
    Our possibilities shrink.
    Our life becomes boring.

    We need to embrace our weird. About 93% worth.

    Do that, and you’ll realize that you’re not weird, you’re free.

  • Life’s a Wave

    “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?”

    What wave is it time for you to catch?