An author recently reminded me to celebrate the things that I have accomplished and not to worry about the things left undone. Sometimes it is the small details we need to focus on, other times it’s the big picture, and more often it is somewhere in between. This morning’s act of preparing to create a reel for Instagram, reminded me of this fact. I was taking multiple photos of a single piece of art focusing in on small elements within that bigger piece.

In creating a piece of art, I might have a theme or a palette that I want to work with in mind. Other times I sort through materials until something sparks an interest and then collect other elements that might compliment it. Then I begin to build. First, there are foundational elements - scraps of printed words, washi tape or paint - that are laid down. Next, some of the statement pieces are fitted into place - those are the ones that had sparked the creation of the piece. I work to figure out where on the page or canvas those pieces make the most impact - this corner, that corner, or center stage. Then I have to ask myself an all too important question - Does it work?

Yes - then let’s keep going. No - time for me to reassess - where is it not working? Is it over here at the top, or is it at the bottom? I might begin to despair. Get up and take a walk and clear my head. Return, take a deep breath and commit to paint over a section or find a different scrap of paper to glue over the spot that jars or offends. Now the process takes a new path to completion.

The old adage of not seeing the forest for the trees comes from the 1500s in England. At a critical moment in my life, I was gently reminded by a doctor that I was looking at the trees and now it was time to look at the forest. My dad was in the hospital after being diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, and my scientific training had me asking all sorts of questions seeking answers and solutions. I knew that my father’s cancer was terminal, but they had mentioned months of time when in fact we would only have weeks. This kind doctor gently told us that the fight was over, and that it was time to call in hospice care.

Forests can tell us a lot. When I taught Environmental Science, my students and I would go out into the woodland surrounding the school grounds in order to learn what it had to teach us. The interconnectedness of the woods spanned a wide spectrum from the bacteria and fungi in the soil, to levels of sunlight, rainfall amounts, annual temperature changes, the latitude that we lived at, the numerous other species in the area, and the presence of humanity. There were stories to be read from the landscape; there were trails cut by wildlife and the cross country team, stone walls indicating that once the land had been cleared and farmed by early colonists, fallen trees with the aid of a compass helped us to determine if summer or winter storms were responsible for causing their fall. We all can learn from nature if we look and listen. Individual trees and the forest as a whole have stories to tell us. Each of us is like a tree in the forest of our society, and we each have a role and a story to tell.

Getting back to my story. My dad died peacefully at home about a week after the doctor told us to look at the forest. My woodland classroom was cut down for a new playing field and stadium seating. Thankfully that happened after I left to take a new teaching post at another school. Eventually, I learned to read the landscape of my life and saw the signs that things in my life needed a change. Today I think globally and act locally by nurturing my plot of land, I create art that is inspired by the natural world around me, and I write and share my stories with you all. I have begun to learn the skills necessary to read the landscape both my life and of my art.