Watch Out For Sneaker Waves

While perched on a shelf of crumbling dirt overlooking the beach, painting this spunky wave one sunny afternoon, I was thinking about the Cascadia Subduction Zone. That’s like thinking about dishes during sex. Here I was, in a glorious sparkle of my fleeting human existence, thinking about catastrophic earthquakes and how long the tsunami would take to smash me to sardines.

Which brings us to the point of this newsletter.

If we make space for things that haven’t happened (and may never), why do those spaces fill with fear? Our brains are islands of precious and limited resources. I have an overstuffed loveseat accommodating my fixation with earthquakes, but not even a stool for the possibility of a new friend.

Here’s a visual:

These are actual signs from the beach nearest our home.

And even though deadly dangerous things DO happen, I’m guessing most Ukrainian citizens weren’t envisioning being bombed at the end of February. The things that happen aren’t the ones you make room for.

These are actual signs from inside my head.

How about yours? Go on, think of a couple.

What actually came to pass was fang-less and claw-less, and looked more like this:

I’m all for putting extra candles and canned beans on the shelf, but goodness never once have I fallen asleep and night thinking, “Oh no, what if when I go to paint that cove tomorrow there are ADORABLE SEALS THERE TOO?!?”

Those are the thoughts percolating on the west coast of Oregon, my friends.

In more factual news, the above wave painting is now available as canvas prints at Art Bloom, and another recent painting was chosen for Minted’s Independent Artist Day celebration. The past six months have been felling torn tree limbs, building out a studio, cursing at my weird liver, and getting involved in the local Visual Arts Center. There will be a landscape calendar next year (yahoo!), I do intend to paint more compasses, and am still undecided about lockets. Thank you all, for following this meandering path with me.

xo, Khara