Keyword: music

  • True Believer

    “True Believer” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available. 🟢 Shop this art!

    Dreams always take longer than we think.

    There may be such a thing as overnight successes, but if so, they don’t stay successful for very long.

    More often than not, so-called “overnight successes” are anything but.

    One time, Kim and I spent a couple of hundred dollars on a two-day craft show. That was a big chunk of change for us at the time — about two months’ worth of groceries. We were next to a booth where a guy was selling knockoff Garfield tchotchkes. Meanwhile, we moved a grand total of $7.92 worth of greeting cards. It was rough. Then we drowned our sorrows in sirloin steaks at Outback, which made our negative profit margin even worse.

    I have a lot of stories like that from the early days. Happy times.

    Over the years, I have often felt like the sloth in this painting. Very little progress to show for a heck of a lot of effort.

    But then I think of things like that craft show, and I’m impressed and even a little surprised by how far we’ve come. There is a great sense of satisfaction in what we’ve built and the things we’ve accomplished, regardless of how much distance there is left to cover.

    Anything worth building takes time.

    More time than you think it should.

    Like way more.

    We need to hear that reminder often, because it goes for everything from dream businesses and amazing relationships to paying off Bank of America and mastering the clarinet. Thanks to the proliferation of microwave ovens and high-speed internet, progress always seems to be taking longer than it should. Then the media peddles their stories of overnight success. They catapulted to fame and fortune in one fell swoop; why can’t you?

    When the early buzz of enthusiasm wanes, discouragement is quick to settle in. It is during those seasons that we need to look for and listen to our true believers.

    I’ve been fortunate to have quite a few in my life.

    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.

    My high school art teacher, Mrs. Garrett, made me believe I had the talent to do this for a living.

    When I was an uncertain teenager, Deacon Vince saw me as a grown-up with valuable contributions to make.

    When Kim and I got married and launched our business, we were graced with a few true believers who saw the vision, including our parents and our best friends, Sue and Jenna. Theirs were not just empty words of encouragement. They responded with action by offering their time, money, and prayers. This signaled the proof of their belief.

    The certainty from true believers is invaluable. There will come a time when you lose faith in the vision, and you will need them to remind you that it’s real.

    Mounting failures and things taking longer than you expected take a toll. That vision, which once seemed so clear, begins to fade. You wonder if all the naysayers were right. After all, so many of them have way more experience than you, and the evidence seems to be piling up in their favor. Maybe I AM delusional? Maybe I was mistaken? Maybe the signals got crossed and I accidentally co-opted a dream that was not meant for me…

    I entertained all these thoughts at various times. It was tempting to give up.

    But then I remembered my parents. And Kim’s parents. And Sue and Jenna. I remembered that nobody pours money or time into a lost cause. Their sacrifice was tangible proof of their belief in us. It helped assure me that no, this is not a mirage. It’s real. They see it.

    Their belief bolstered my own.

    We need cheerleaders to succeed. They give us the boost we need when our dream seems late in coming.

    There are a few reasons dreams take longer than we think they should.

    One is partly for us to prove how much we want it.

    But it’s also because the most important part of a dream is who we become in the process of chasing it. That’s the real reward.

    When success doesn’t materialize as quickly as you thought it would and you’re discouraged by your dream taking too long, don’t despair. Heed the true believer cheering you on.

    Take it from the sloth. Achieving anything worthwhile is a marathon, not a sprint.

  • Hallelujah Chorus

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

    What makes life worth living?

    When we look back on a given year, it’s easy to identify the massive oak trees and tall pines that stand as signposts: the weddings and the funerals, the epic vacations, and the major accomplishments. 

    But we often overlook the small blessings – the birds within the trees, if you will.

    Our minds can only hold so much information, and in my experience, our hard drive space seems to dwindle with each passing year. The brain prioritizes the stuff it determines is important, discarding the rest. Those giant oaks and majestic pines take precedence.

    I’ve been rescuing things from the discard pile through a simple practice that makes it easier to spot those aforementioned birds.

    Once a day, I write down one happy moment from the day before. That’s it. One moment. One line. No paragraph or story or context. Most aren’t even full sentences. It’s like a verbal Polaroid, a snapshot in time that describes a simple moment of happiness. 

    But in the same way that a picture is worth a thousand words, that simple snapshot composed of a handful of words contains within it a treasure trove of details, emotions, and story.

    I do this in a Bullet Journal, with each Happy Moment taking up no more than one line on a page. One could adapt it by writing each Happy Moment on a Post-It note and dropping it into a jar with the intent of reading them when you need a pick-me-up.

    The practice takes me less than thirty seconds a day. The payoff comes at the end of the month or the year, when I re-read them all. 

    Kim and I recently spent time reviewing the previous year. The publication of Wonderhunt stood out, as did our Escape Adulthood Summit in Utah and family trips to Key West and Washington, D.C. But my favorite part was reading all 365 of my Happy Moments for the year.

    Here are a few highlights:

    Playing catch with Ben amidst the kites at Leland Park.
    The scallop dish with leeks and apple risotto at the Black Pig.
    Ginny rolling a strike on frame 10 with no bumpers.
    Staff dinner at the supper club.
    Seeing the walls finally up in the studio.
    Watching Lucy ride Chester with confidence.
    Family time on the front porch, eating push-ups.

    As you can see, none of these rise to the level of “major milestone.” Frankly, they’d probably be forgotten had I not taken the time to write them down at the time.

    But these happy moments become souvenirs of a wonderful journey. Perhaps even more than the achievements and milestones, they give me a feeling of aliveness and a sense that my year was spent well. They are reminders of what makes life worth living, and that I have been blessed in myriad ways, despite the defeats and sorrows that also populated the previous year.

    It’s easy to overlook the small songbirds hidden in the forest of our lives. But when we invest a few seconds to jot down one happy moment a day, reading them at the end of the month or year is magical. It’s like experiencing a sublime symphony, with each note harmoniously contributing its voice to a melody that slowly builds to a soaring crescendo of gratitude.

    It becomes a hallelujah chorus, exulting in the glorious gift of being alive.

  • Little Darling

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

    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • Long Cold Lonely Winter

    “Long Cold Lonely Winter” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • Years Since It’s Been Here

    “Years Since It’s Been Here” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • Sun Sun Sun Here It Comes

    “Sun Sun Sun Here It Comes” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
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    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • That Ice Is Slowly Melting

    “That Ice Is Slowly Melting” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • Years Since It’s Been Clear

    “Years Since It’s Been Clear” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • It’s All Right

    “It’s All Right” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This piece is part of a series of nine paintings inspired by the Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun.” Watch a short film I created about the powerful story behind the series:

  • Make a Joyful Noise

    “Make a Joyful Noise” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    An Easter lily reminds me of a trumpet, jubilantly announcing the good news of Easter morning. It can’t be timid, or it would never be heard over the din of our noisy world: traffic and sirens and ads and 24-hour news cycles that trumpet the latest tragedy or occasion for outrage. 

    What’s easy to forget is that we are part of that noise. It’s important to consider what we are putting out into the world. Are we spreading good news and positive vibes, or are we sharing bad news and negative energy? 

    I am not suggesting we bury our heads in the sand and go all Pollyanna. It’s just that bad news has no trouble finding us and bullies out the good news. I know I am often guilty of focusing too much on the 3% of my life that’s off the rails, while the other 97% is pretty darn good. 

    Of course, no one ever thinks they are part of the problem. Not you. Not me. But sometimes, in our haste to proclaim “our truth,” we can inadvertently contribute to a screeching symphony of disharmony. Diversity of thought is useful, but it can’t exist if we drown out those who think differently with shame, sarcasm, and judgment.

    Let’s say you are a violin, I am a clarinet, and that dude over there is a tuba. If we all just blare out our own thing, it’ll sound worse than a shopping cart falling down a flight of stairs. But those three sounds, although very different, can work together to create something quite beautiful. And if you’ve written off the tuba as an ignorant blowhard, you’re missing the full expression of that beauty.

    Or consider the rainbow. Lose just one color and the rainbow isn’t quite as beautiful. Each hue is unique, with its own distinct characteristics. But have you ever tried mixing them all together? You end up with an ugly, homogenous, muddy mix of grayish brown. 

    In this attempt to force unity, the individuals are silenced.

    The thing is, the rainbow was already unified. Placed side-by-side, together but distinct, each color shines proudly, and beauty is the by-product. A beauty that’s impossible to achieve if a few colors crowd out the others.

    Maybe I’ve jumped too deeply into the Sea of Metaphors. Maybe I’ve let too much of my artsy-fartsy show with all this talk of tubas and rainbows.

    The prescription is simple: In a noisy world, make a joyful noise.

    If we want a better world, we have to acknowledge the fact that our own actions are a contributing factor.

    We all have something important to share, and the world is worse off when we don’t.

    But as we share our gifts and unique point of view, may we always do it with positivity, kindness, and joy.

    And remember: We don’t all have to be the same to work together.