Keyword: whale

  • Great Expectations

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

    I have a confession to make.

    I fully expected to marry a brunette. I was pretty vocal about it, even. No blondes for me!

    In retrospect, the women who caught my eye when I was young — Princess Leia, Lois Lane, Wonder Woman — were all brunette. Most of the girls I dated in high school were brunettes.

    But after I met Kim, who was most definitely not a brunette, I didn’t waste any time wondering if I was making the right choice in spending time with her. I didn’t delay my decision to propose because I was holding out for a brunette to come along. I didn’t miss the opportunity of a lifetime because “this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.”

    I wish I could say I was that flexible with all my expectations.

    When I graduated from college with a degree in illustration, I expected I’d make my living as a freelance illustrator. A year into that pursuit led me to realize that I really hated taking orders drawing what other people wanted me to draw.

    So I shifted all my attention to a comic strip I had been developing called Kim & Jason. I expected that I’d make my mark in the world by following in the footsteps of Charles Schulz and Bill Watterson.

    I put everything into it for six years. Along the way, I fell into speaking, and it started to bring in money. Way more than the comic strip. I eventually made the difficult decision to retire Kim & Jason so I could double down on what was working.

    With that decision, it felt that the naysayers were proven right: I really couldn’t make it as an artist. But the only reason they seemed right is that my expectations were wrong.

    I once heard a talk by Fr. Mike Schmitz in which he said, “Expectations are a thief of peace.”

    I recoiled at the idea at first, because I associate expectations with hope, and hope is good. If expectations are the thief of peace, is the antidote to become a pessimist? Lower the bar? Settle for mediocrity? Slack off? That seemed less than ideal.

    Then it occurred to me: An expectation is a prediction.

    It’s a prediction about what you think — and maybe even hope — will happen. Sometimes it’s little more than wishful thinking, but it could be a legitimate educated guess with actual data to back it up. And sometimes your prediction is correct and your expectations are met. 

    But it’s still a prediction. 

    One you might be making with a wildly insufficient lack of information.

    Before I actually started freelancing, I didn’t know how I’d feel creating things that didn’t light me up. When I began my comic strip, I didn’t realize how quickly the internet would decimate newspapers and change the landscape. And back then, I didn’t know anything about the business of professional speaking.

    Take a quick review of your life right now. How much current frustration, pain, or sadness is the result of circumstances turning out differently from what you expected?

    Is holding on to what didn’t happen keeping you from appreciating all the great things that did and are happening now?

    Maybe you can relate to this simple example. Recently, I had a wonderful, tremendously productive day that felt like a failure. One project took waaaay longer than I expected, blowing my to-do list to smithereens. Although some tasks got pushed to another day, I accomplished a few other things I hadn’t planned and took advantage of the unseasonably warm day to enjoy an invigorating walk in the sunshine. It ended with a delicious dinner with my beautiful bride.

    By all objective measures, it was a very good day. But it didn’t feel like it.

    The thing that soured it? 

    My expectations. 

    The day simply didn’t line up according to the timing and order of my expectations. Because some to-dos were left unchecked — even though other great elements were added — somehow it felt like I failed. 

    This is not a cautionary tale against planning or a list of pro tips to bulletproof your plans. It’s a reminder that it’s hard to appreciate accomplishments when they are in the same room as even one unmet expectation, one missed goal, or one unforeseen event that was out of your control. 

    In the battle between reality and expectations, reality is undefeated. 

    Expectations really are a thief of peace. They can ruin a day or derail our dream if we’re not careful.

    I believe that God plants dreams in our hearts. The details we imagine in the early stages create enthusiasm that serves as fuel to get moving. But oftentimes, those details reflect immaturity, a lack of imagination, or are limited by the fact that we don’t yet have the relationships, technology, or knowledge that will eventually help us to get there.

    Art was my first love; the first talent I discovered, and the one that was most nurtured early in my life. It’s easy to see why I would have the expectation of making it as an artist.

    But that was before I took a creative writing class in high school.

    It was before I discovered a gift for public speaking in college.

    It was before I realized “professional speaker” was an actual job.

    And it was before I figured out that my art, writing, and speaking could be combined to create something unique and bigger than the sum of their parts.

    Like many people, when I was a young adult, I expected my career to go a certain way. It went a different direction, filled with opportunities and experiences I didn’t even know were possible when I was an 18-year-old kid.

    But thirty years ago, if I had been given the choice between my original expectations and a full picture of how my life turned out, I’d choose my current reality. 

    Every. Single. Time.

    And yet, here’s the crazy part: because it doesn’t match up with my original expectation — you know, the one I had when I was a naive, inexperienced teenager — I am sometimes tempted to wonder where I went wrong.

    Expectations are a thief of peace.

    Holding on to expectations that don’t match reality is a terrific way to go through life frustrated and disappointed.

    When we become resentful of missed expectations, we are in danger of also missing other opportunities and blessings we didn’t see coming.  

    The astronaut in this painting represents a dreamer.

    This dreamer has always possessed a spirit of adventure and imagined a life spent exploring the unknown, pushing past the boundaries of human understanding, and experiencing the supernatural enchantment. The dreamer expected this would happen as an astronaut in the context of space.

    Instead, the dreamer’s story ended up in the ocean after a visit to Sea World, and now days are spent adventurously exploring the unknown and experiencing enchantment in encounters with sea creatures.

    So…did this dreamer’s dream go unfulfilled?

    My friend Jessica has some good advice about how we should handle our expectations: “When you write that first story, print it as a draft, triple-spaced with extra wide margins. You do this because you’re anticipating edits.”

    Letting go of expectations is not about being pessimistic. One can be optimistic without becoming a slave to expectations. My optimism is grounded in the fact that God has ALL the data, loves me more than I deserve, and tells the best stories. We can make plans and hope for things to go a certain way, while still holding loosely to them, trusting that God may have different (and better!) ones. 

    If you want more peace in your life, don’t abandon hope. 

    Don’t stop striving for greatness. 

    Just stop putting faith in your predictions.
  • All Creation Rejoices

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

    Have you ever had one of those days when you’re angry at everything and nothing in particular? I had one recently. I went for a walk in an attempt to burn off my anxiety. Two laps around a spacious field of wildflowers near my home released some endorphins, but didn’t make a dent in my foul mood.

    I pulled out my earbuds and fired up a playlist on my phone populated with praise music. My soul began to lift.

    Then I came upon an older man driving a golf cart along the path, with a woman of a similar age as his passenger. She appeared to have some cognitive challenges as she seemed pretty unresponsive. I guessed that they were husband and wife. Perhaps he had been visiting her in the nearby mental health center and decided to take her for a ride on what was a beautiful day.

    They were together, but not really. At least not in the same way my wife and I are when we go for a ride together, talking all the way. In that couple, silently traversing fields of wildflowers under the late-summer sun, not only did I see true love, deep loyalty, and the kind of frail but breathtaking beauty that only arises from brokenness, I also saw a million reasons to be thankful.

    I turned off the path and headed back home, returning a happier, more hopeful person than the one who left.

    Anxiety is the dominant emotion of our time. It’s a constant companion as we slog through our days, scan the headlines, and scroll through our social media feeds.

    Fortunately, there is a cure and it doesn’t cost a dime.

    The antidote to anxiety is gratitude.

    If you are feeling anxious, make a list of ten things you are grateful for. It’s impossible to do this and not feel better. I double dog dare you to make a list of 100 and tell me your mood is not completely transformed.

    Anxiety is anticipating the bad in what may never happen. 

    Gratitude is acknowledging the good in what already has.

    Why does gratitude make us feel better? This painting explores this phenomenon while addressing another. The photo I used as reference was taken during my family’s whale watching tour while in Mexico. I’m still amazed that we had the opportunity to see a humpback whale breach. I’m also amazed that mankind still doesn’t know exactly why whales exhibit this behavior. Scientists have theories about why they breach: to communicate, attract other whales, or warn off other males. But no one knows exactly why – yet.

    Well, how about this as a theory: what if they’re literally jumping for joy?

    Maybe all of creation has its own unique way of practicing gratitude and praising God. Maybe that’s why whales breach, fireflies glow, and swallows whoosh and whirl playfully in the air.

    Maybe we were made for it.

    And maybe that’s why we feel out of balance when we aren’t doing it and feel better when we do. 

    It is just a theory, but a bestselling book proclaims, “Let the sea resound, and all that is in it…Let all creation rejoice before the Lord.”

    It appears highly ironic to suggest turning to gratitude in times of anxiety, grief, or pain. After all, we usually think of “jumping for joy” when we feel good over something remarkable that’s happened.

    The truth is, something remarkable is always happening. 

    Praise aligns us with our Creator, giving us the new eyes we need to see it.

    What are you grateful for today?

  • Don’t Stop Believin’

    “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 30. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    My family went to Mexico to see whales. 

    That’s not the only reason we went to Cabo, but then again, the whales weren’t in Mexico because they were hoping to be seen.

    The tour company guaranteed we’d see them or our next ride was free, but we were told that we had a one in five shot of actually seeing one breach. It was recommended that we improve our odds by booking several excursions. Our itinerary and budget forced us to take our chances. 

    As we skipped across the waves on our small vessel, my little family prayed to St. Francis, the patron saint of animals, and we invoked St. Anthony with the words, “Tony, Tony, look around, there is something to be found.” I had faith that our little excursion was in the right twentieth percentile.

    Maybe our prayers were answered, maybe it just turned out to be our lucky day, but we saw this guy (or gal, I forgot to check) do this several times in front of us. I used this photo that our guide took with his awesome camera as a reference for this painting.

    Those fleeting moments represented a tiny fraction of our trip, but they were definitely the highlight. 

    The biggest chunk of our time on that vacation was spent in and around the pool. My kids could have spent the rest of their lives there if we’d let them. 
    With the exception of Kim and me, the children were the only humans at the pool not collecting Social Security. They were in their own little world, lost in their imagination, playing, splashing, and floating to their heart’s content. Meanwhile, our older neighbors stayed busy doing their thing, oblivious to the world of fantasy happening right in front of them.

    I was sad for them because they were missing out. They were nonplussed, and in some cases seemed a little annoyed by the joyful noises bubbling forth from the pool.

    Mind you, I couldn’t see everything that clearly – Adultitis has dimmed my imagination more than I’d care to admit – but I could see well enough to know that magic was happening in that pool. I witnessed an adventure, no doubt wrought with equal parts excitement and peril, and I smiled as I wondered how magnificent it must be. 

    I know it seems unlikely, and I couldn’t tell for sure, but I could have sworn that a giant humpback whale may have been leaping right out of that very pool. 

    Don’t ask the grumps around the pool to fact-check my story. I’m certain they missed the whole thing. Too riddled with Adultitis, no doubt. 

    That the whole scene appeared to be invisible made it no less real.

    Why do we stop believing in fantastic things? Why do our wide eyes grow so dim with age? Shouldn’t they be even wider, for an old person has been privileged to observe an avalanche of wonders? Living long brings plenty of disappointment, to be sure, but it also brings a smorgasbord of sunrises and sunsets, and more time to bear witness to impossible things, like childbirth and springtime, and the way green leaves turn bright red every single year.

    As I said, Adultitis has its grip on me, too. But I’m still fighting. I plan to fight it all the days of my life. 

    I hope I never stop believing. 
  • Looking for Orcas

    “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.
  • Imagination Can Take You Anywhere

    “
    Imagination Can Take You Anywhere” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    In my family growing up, I was always the art guy. Today, I make a living painting pictures, telling stories, and writing books.

    My younger brother Dan was the science guy. He now works for a cancer hospital analyzing and improving “systems,” or something structured and boring like that.

    I always saw us as complete opposites, which is how I think most people see art and science.

    Yes, my brother and I are different, but I was also decent at math and enjoyed doing experiments in chemistry class. Meanwhile, he had a pretty good drawing talent that went under the radar. Today, he collects Pearl Jam posters because he appreciates the art.

    I was so locked in to looking at the difference between us that I never noticed the connections.

    Artists are thought of as free-spirited, open-ended, and subjective. Scientists are often viewed as analytical, precise, and objective.

    But Science is not cold, rigid, and unfeeling. Art is not some frivolous, fluffy extra. Believe it or not, they are connected.

    Curiosity and Imagination are the parents of both art and science.

    The same curiosity and imagination that is present when an artist creates a new play, sculpture, or piece of music is present in the best scientists as well. We imagine space travel, and curiosity asks, “How can we make that happen?” We imagine a world without cancer, and curiosity asks, “What hasn’t been tried on this particular strain?” Curiosity asks, “How can we become more energy independent?” and our imagination gets to work on thinking up a whole bunch of possible solutions, ranging from the far-fetched to the less so. Sometimes solutions are hidden within an idea that seems completely preposterous.

    This painting was inspired by my first trip to Vancouver, and by a quote often attributed to Albert Einstein: “Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.”

    Imagination is often seen as a peculiar skill set of children and the pastime of daydreamers. Mildly amusing, but hardly practical for a self-respecting adult. Too often, our imaginations fade as we grow older. We stop asking questions and dreaming big. We reward the rule-followers. We search for and obediently follow the best practices.

    But in a changing world, what worked before will not get us to where we need to go. There is no roadmap. No formula. No step-by-step manual to help us succeed tomorrow.

    The well-worn paths we’re used to treading now only lead us astray, to a world that no longer exists.

    So what now?

    We must stop looking at science and art as opposing forces.

    We need to realize that we are all artists. Working in paint, charcoal, or clay is not required.

    And likewise, we are all scientists. Even if we don’t wear lab coats.

    If you are stuck, or have a sneaking suspicion that things could be better in your life, your relationships, or your organization…you are right.

    The way forward is to imagine a better reality, the future we wish to create. And then we tinker our way there, by trying things that might not work and using what we learn to guide our next steps — even small steps — forward.

    Imagination. It’s not just a plaything for children.

    Dust yours off. It can take you to some pretty amazing places.