My most peaceful moments occur on Charleston's wintered beaches. The dimmer skies and emptier shores that welcome November to February are backdrops to watch an occasional surfer gracing the Atlantic. I remain in awe of this patient athlete, more so than any other, as they turn, paddle, and time a man-made object with Mother Nature, who is completely unpredictable. I once asked a friend who clocks most of his days off the shores of Folly the trick to consistency and growth as a surfer. He replied gently, "We don't boil the ocean."
He was speaking as much about mechanics as he was about philosophy. He was poignantly conveying steadiness, easiness, and grace — key factors to moving through life and making headway without causing disruption. "It's a balancing act," he shrugged. I thought to myself, "Yes, but it's also grace."
I turned forty years of age less than gracefully, and in the past seven years I have been challenged and tasked to find a new relationship with art and creativity. Due to health setbacks and COVID-19, it wasn't in the cards to continue in the familiarity of hustling retail floors, agenting over 100 artists at a time, and traveling like a rock star through parts of the U.S. and into the depths of Latin America. Through some trial and some error, though, I found new ways of doing things, embracing tech and mastering capabilities of SEO feeds, algorithms, and social media platforms to curate and broker art. Most significantly, I learned to master the art of a balanced, healthy life through yoga and plant-based living.
A new business model allowed tech do the work (see additional blogs), selling art online and finding fresh, interested sets of eyes through algorithms and social media feeds. NFTs became a new frontier, a way to view and collect art like never before, and I felt electrified and awakened by cutting-edge digital art made by creators across the globe. iPhones and smartwatches replaced square footage, wallets replaced flat-files, and bright denim and hip sneakers replaced black attire. A new era. A new way.
Furthermore, I developed a new rubric of life, diving deep into a vinyasa yoga practice, flowing in 90-100 degree heat, eight days a week, to build strength and endurance. I also practiced the Buddhist way, setting clear intentions as well as detaching and letting *&%& go. My yoga practice started in 1999, at posh tennis clubs with gay guys in San Francisco when I lived there one summer. But in the past seven years, it has become more than a workout — yoga has become a way of life for me. In pursuit of purity, I also eliminated alcohol, sugar, and dairy to make space for plant-based nutrition. I remain committed to a 3’ x 6' mat that is a centerpoint and even an incubator of new, creative ideas. This mat is also a place of tiny deaths of people, places, and things, and in shedding old ways and thoughts, I have come to feel lighter in body and mind. I have learned what it truly means to root so far down that you can feel the energy move from your pinkie toe to the top of your head. Most importantly, through movement and breath, I found the strength and focus to keep moving forward.
Many of the worst, most brutal storms have seemed to dissipate and pass over me in the past seven years, and life currently seems manageable and bustling again. But the lessons I learned from those trying times remain prevalent and applicable in the now. A strong, healthy, rehabbed body carries me to new and open opportunities of creativity and growth. My heart is full, my head is clear, my eyes are sharp.
On tricky days when things don't seem quite right, when I'm just trying to fit pieces of the puzzle together, I think of the lessons shared and practiced by my friend, the graceful surfer off the Carolina shores: “Sometimes, a motion or a next act is too much. It can be overwhelming. So it's plenty and enough to simply take the next breath — a gentle way to move forward, without boiling the ocean.”