Keyword: storm

  • Seek & Find

    “Seek & Find” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available. 🟢 Shop this art!

    My wife has a remarkable superpower for finding hearts in nature, hiding in clouds, flowers, and even her sourdough bread.

    One day, we walked along a pier in Lake Michigan. We talked about our business, kids, and future. We lingered at the end of the pier, then walked back, resuming our conversation. Kim casually mentioned seeing fifteen hearts during our walk.

    I had seen exactly none.

    I marveled at her talent.

    But is there such a thing as talent for seeing hearts in nature? I’m not so sure. It’s not like having a beautiful singing voice, exceptional sprinting speed, or a penchant for math.

    Kim has a knack for spotting hearts because she spends a lot of time looking for them. 

    What seems magical to others is often the result of lots of practice.

    I once wrote a book about seeing. In it, I talked about storms, the metaphorical kind that blow through our lives. I also wrote about one of our most underrated superpowers: the ability to choose what we look for in the midst of those storms. 

    Yes, the storms will come. Scary, devastating, faith-shaking storms. They are a given, right up there with death and taxes and missing socks.

    But those who see the silver linings are usually the ones looking for them.

    It’s not a talent; it’s a practice.

    The more you practice, the better you get.

    This is true with finding hearts in nature as it is with anything.

    So, will this year be worse than last year? Or will it be your best year ever?

    Here’s the secret: You don’t have to wait to find out.

    The trap is letting external circumstances dictate our answers:  the news headlines, the outrage du jour on social media, the ups and downs of life. 

    It’s hard to view a year of hardship as anything but negative. However, a decade might offer perspective, transforming it into a valuable gift. A little time and practice might turn up a whole host of hidden blessings.

    I’m not suggesting you pretend that the tough or terrible moments don’t suck. Being sad, mad, or angry is part of the human experience. We don’t have to bury those emotions under some false blanket of positivity. 

    Just remember that storms are part of life. The best year isn’t one without failure, conflict, tragedy, or loss.

    Kim took the photo that inspired this painting. She saw a heart in the sky near the lighthouse. I enhanced it slightly and added dozens more. I can’t count them all, and you might find some I didn’t add.

    That is how it is with cloud watching and wonderhunting and the counting of blessings. 

    The more you practice, the more you’ll see.

    Those who seek shall find.

    ☕ How would you assess your ability to spot the “hearts” in your life? What’s one way you could practice getting better?

  • Beyond the Bathtub

    “Beyond the Bathtub” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available 🟢 Shop this art!

    I could have stayed in the bathtub.

    Way back when, after completing my schooling and earning a degree, the safe path was waiting for me. A decent job in my hometown. It wasn’t particularly exciting, but it was close enough to what I went to school for that I could rationalize it as making sense. I could have taken the job, gotten married, bought a house, and started collecting benefits.

    It was tempting, and by most standards, the smart thing to do. The only problem is that I knew exactly what life in the bathtub would look like for the rest of my life.

    I may have been shy and quiet, but I grew up observing people who decided to stay in the bathtub. Whether they rationalized it as a smart choice or insisted they didn’t have any others, I could always sense a certain sadness, simmering just below the surface. 

    Life outside the bathtub is fraught.

    The ocean is vast. The edges disappear as the shoreline fades from view. The waves toss us around until we’re seasick. At times it feels like we’ll drown—or be swallowed by something much bigger than ourselves. The current carries us in directions we never would have chosen. It’s disorienting. Terrifying. Unpredictable.

    Of course we prefer to remain in an environment we can control! 

    The problem is that it’s not much of a life. 

    The bathtub is safe, controlled, and predictable. But it’s also small. Constricting. Eventually the what-ifs become impossible to ignore. What’s outside these walls? What am I truly capable of? Where might I go if I ventured beyond the edge of what I can see?

    I was the kid my relatives called a scaredy-cat. Honestly, not much has changed. I’ve never become especially brave or outgoing.

    I just knew there was life beyond the bathtub.

    Although I’m just a tiny rubber duck, I sensed I was made for a bigger shore, farther away than I could get to on my own.

    So I put my trust in the One who made the water, the waves, and the wind.

    That choice came with no certainty, no safety, and no benefits package. There were seasons when I felt lost at sea. Driftless. Doubtful. Overwhelmed. Afraid.

    You know what? I still feel that way sometimes. There are always temptations to pull into a safe harbor somewhere and settle down. To quit while I’m ahead.

    But I can’t go back now.

    Since giving my life to the Creator of the ocean, I’ve seen things, accomplished things, and experienced things I never would have known had I stayed in the bathtub. I’ve been swept up in an adventure that’s been wonderful, beautiful, and breathtaking.

    The decision isn’t to become adventurous.

    The decision is to leave the bathtub.

    Everything else follows.

    We’re destined for a life beyond the bathtub. 

    Of course it isn’t safe. But it is good.

    Is it time for you to experience what life is like beyond the bathtub?

    process

  • Proof of Life

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

    Every so often in my life, things are going along swimmingly. I know where I’m going, the path is clear, progress is being made. Everything makes sense, and the future is bright. I like it when life is like that.

    But then, seemingly overnight, everything goes dry. Sand has obscured my path, and I feel like I’m in a barren wasteland, uncertain of which direction to head. I wonder if all the progress and clarity I’d experienced was merely a mirage, because suddenly all signs of life are absent.

    I am stranded in the desert, and all hope is drying up.

    Perhaps you’ve felt this way recently. Maybe you feel this way now.

    Growing up in the Midwest, I didn’t have a lot of experience with deserts. Acres and acres of cornfields, yes; barren expanses of desert, no. To me, deserts were hot, sandy stretches of nothing, save for an occasional cactus and those ominous cattle skulls. Of course, they can be those things. Officially, a desert is a dry, desolate, and barren area of land. It often looks dead, void of life and hope.

    But that’s only if you’re not looking closely enough.

    Deserts are harsh, but not lifeless. I took the picture that inspired this painting whilst exploring the Saguaro National Park a few years ago. It was spectacular and unlike anything I ever experienced growing up in Illinois. The signs of life aren’t as obvious as in a jungle or forest, but they are there, just hidden.

    I can’t help but draw some parallels to my roots in the agricultural heartland. Consider planting: After you cover a seed with soil, it is the moment you see its first green shoot emerge from the earth, the first time growth happens since you buried it? Of course not. It was always in the process of transforming; it just wasn’t immediately visible. When you see rows and rows of tall sweet corn or endless fields of amber waves of grain, it’s easy to forget that in the springtime, those acres of soil seemed barren and lifeless even though they’d already been planted.

    Similarly, it can take several months to visually notice the effect of pregnancy. But cells began multiplying and growing rapidly from the first moment of conception.

    In deserts, life is always on the move. We just aren’t always able to see its progress.

    When we feel stranded in the desert, we need to remind ourselves that all is not lost. It’s hard to be patient and stay hopeful when all evidence seems to suggest otherwise. Please know that when you find yourself in the desert, you are not deserted. God is always working, even when He seems silent or absent. 

    It’s hard to believe a plant so hostile and forbidding could produce a bloom so magnificent.

    Hang in there. Good things are happening, right this moment, and will spring forth in time.

    Keep a sharp eye out for proof of life.

  • 100% Chance of Awesome

    “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.