For the first time

Written By Lisa Ackerman

Live as if you were living a second time, and as though you had acted wrongly the first time. ~ Viktor Frankl

My son went to the mountains this week for the first time. A boy born in the flatlands of Illinois, raised in the woods of Minnesota, decided he would learn to snowboard. Last year he decided he would become a runner and ran his first race, a 5k, and finished towards the front of the pack. He’s been practicing his snowboarding at the local hill for the past couple of months, earning bruises and broken bindings, but when he was invited to go to Montana to snowboard, my mom heart panicked and soared at the same time. I was at once thinking of broken bones, avalanches. He, of course, was not at all nervous. Possessed of the confidence of youth, he packed his bag and off he went on his grand adventure after promising he would probably not die. Probably. (thanks kid) When I got the text from him full of excitement about his first run, I let out my breath and imagined the cold air, the gentle bounce of a chair lift, the feeling of gliding down a hill. How glorious to experience a thing for the first time.

My nature dictates that I have new experiences, to stoke my curiosity, in order to feel like myself. Too much routine dulls my senses, but one novel experience, a new food, a good conversation, a challenging book, a pretty sunset (I will never tire of pretty sunsets) restores the buoyancy. There are people who thrive in routine. I think the important thing is to encourage the experiences that support who we are and want to be. I’m saying this for me, but maybe for you too.

When was the last time you tried something for the first time?

Speaking of firsts…I’ve been working on cows. A friend of mine is coming over for a workshop this weekend and I am using pictures of her cows as inspiration. I haven’t made a cow before, and I’m now on round 3 as I try to figure out the shapes and how to lead others through making them.

I’ve especially enjoyed the process of blending colors.

I also enjoyed learning that Scottish people call cows, coos. That just thrills me. If you’re Scottish, and this isn’t true, please don’t tell me. Let me have this bit of joy.

Tomorrow is Open Studio Thursday. Last month we had a lovely gathering. If you’re looking for a little no-pressure creative time, or just time to chat with other creatives, stop on in from 6:00-8:00. I’ll have some supplies out for you to tinker with, but feel free to bring your sketchbook or own project to work on. We’re in studio 101 in the Franklin Arts Center at 1001 Kingwood St, Brainerd MN. See you then!

I had a full weekend of teaching recently, leading workshops on the northern lights, felted eggs, and sunset scenes. It gives me such joy to meet new people and spend a little time playing with color with them. I know I’ve said it before, but my favorite part is that everyone’s pieces, though given the same materials to work with, turn out differently. Each piece unique to their maker, each beautiful in their own way.

I’ll be rescheduling a couple of the workshops I had planned for March. Watch for the felted egg workshop in April. If you would like a small group workshop for you and your friends, please reach out. I’d love to work with you.

My hours right now are Thursday nights and by appointment at the studio, but I’m hoping to expand that soon. For now:

In conversations with friends lately, one theme keeps coming up. Many people are struggling to remain hopeful right now. And when we are hopeful, there’s also a twinge of guilt. Should we be allowed to be happy when so many suffer? I understand that we must keep hope if we are to be helpful. Progress stops when we no longer have hope. When I read this piece today, the line “dual citizenship of being alive” struck me as very apt. Life is all of it, isn’t it?

The world is both burning and blooming.

You get the bad news and the sunrise in the same day.

You cry over the headlines, then you laugh at a baby wearing a hat shaped like a bear.

This is the dual citizenship of being alive.

Rage and reverence, Grief and grace.

You are allowed to feel both.

You are allowed to scream and still notice how good the soup is.

You don’t have to choose.

Let it all in.

~ Karen Salmansohn

Thank you for reading. I appreciate you.

Lisa Ackerman
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