I started watercolor classes this summer. Dale and little Finn have some special time and I head to the local college to learn how fantastic and finnicky painting with water and color can be.
My instructor gives us lots of freedom to keep trying, to be unafraid of “messing up” the paper, to try out new ideas and to find that anything (almost) can be scrubbed out and started afresh. Of course, only cold pressed, thick (and expensive) paper makes this possible which makes me more nervous about “wasting” the paper.
Trying Too Hard
The most infuriating discovery came recently, when I realized some paintings only get worse by trying to fix them. Watercolor artist’s genius comes form knowing when to stop. One student actually announces in class, “Stop, stop, stop. You’re done,” and puts her paint brush down.
I could learn from her, too. I’ve overworked some of my potentially lovely paintings. I dropped color, became impatient with the slow drying, dropped in more color, blotted out, tried a darker hue, then scrubbed it all out. The paper holds up, but the crisp spontaneighty of line and color fade into tortured attempts to make the tree look RIGHT. The clarity and spontaneous strength of watercolor can easily die from tortured attempts to make it look perfect.
Watercolor cannot be forced, it’s too fluid and playful.
Ugly, Learning Experiences
But I have a hard time putting my brush down. My instructor came over a few classes ago and said, “Are you painting it to death?”
I looked up, “You think I should stop?” She nodded and said,
“That painting is a learning experience.” Not sure I like appreciate learning experiences. They feel wasteful, unframeable, shadowed moments of my life.
I’ve had a few share of friendships that were learning experiences. They began so hopefully, seemed to express lots of mutuality. But something went wrong, a misunderstanding, a grudge nursed, a move, a change in interests, a jealous moment.
And rather than allow the difference to naturally separate us, I moved in with renewed determination.
I will. fix. this.
I dropped fresh color and attempts apologies, even for things I didn’t think I had done wrong.
I scrubbed out part of who I was to show my renewed energy to be a good friend.
These friendships didn’t make it. Effort wasn’t enough.
Sometimes even forgiveness isn’t enough to reconcile a friendship. Even God doesn’t ask us to reconcile every relationship, though he does ask us to forgive. Jesus himself wasn’t ever reconciled to Judas, to the Sanhedrin, to the executioners , though he forgave them.
Sally has taught me a lot about trusting your gut in friendships. So has my husband. There are times when a friendship is done, it cannot be worked over one more time. To do so can even ruin the clear, spontaneous memories you still have.
How do you know a friendship is over?
A few earmarks I’ve picked up from those learning experiences. If you can answer yes to two or more below, perhaps it’s time to put your brushes down, to sigh and to pull out a fresh piece of paper.
- Am I doing most of the friendship footwork? Am I the primary initiator for getting together, offering help, suggesting activities, offering gifts, connecting?
- Has the air between us felt awkward and forced for two or more months?
- Do I have trouble remembering what I like to do with this friend?
- Would it be safe to say we’ve both changed and thereby moved apart?
- Do I dread seeing them?
- If I imagine releasing them to spend more time with other friends do I feel primarily peace, relief or freedom?
My daughter is quite good at watercolor painting, after several years of practice (though she doesn’t think she’s very good). She is very patient, and takes her time to finish a painting. She has a very light touch (think Marjorie Bastin). I think these qualities (patience and gentleness) are valuable for friendships, too. Letting go of a relationship, or saying, “This has turned out badly, and there’s no fixing it now,” is not easy. But we’re not married to our friends, true. Individuals are always growing and changing, and that’s the challenge in a relationship when you’re in it for the long-haul. When a “painting” goes badly, isn’t pretty, feels like a failure, can one say of it, “This is still valuable / lovable to me?” Being pronounced “junk art” or “failure” by another is the worst kind of ending to a relationship. Interesting analogy; I enjoy reading and pondering your thoughts, Jonalyn. Keep on painting
Susan
Glad to hear how you’ve extended this metaphor. Loved the points on gentleness and patience! Does your daughter feel these strengths in her friendships?
Thank you for encouraging!
Jonalyn, I see these qualities in my daughter as huge personal strengths. I so admire her gracious spirit. Given that she’s in the midst of her teen years, and that she is a very quiet person, I’m not sure a great many of her friends have come to appreciate these qualities in her; I think she is learning to love herself, though, and be comfortable in her own skin
If I were a teen-friend of hers, I would ADORE her! She has the gift of listening and not judging; is very accepting of even those who are outcasts; and yet, will choose to speak / use her voice on important matters. As she matures, I think these strengths will become more evident and her friendships will be deep and long-lasting as a result.
Susan,
I have a friend who was a faithful kindred spirit to me in high school who sounds a lot like your daughter.
It has taken me time to learn how priceless she is. But now, I would never lose her. You daughter sounds amazing!
P.S. Appreciate your point that friendships are not marriages.
What a thoughtful post. It’s interesting to hear such a calculated formula for when to abandon a friendship. I don’t know if I agree that the formula is for everyone; perhaps it’s a good guide. I know the hollow sadness felt when a friendship is no longer encouraging, or we’ve grown incompatible, and I shouldn’t feel guilty for letting the friendship go. But some friendships are so precious to me because they overlapped during a special time in my life, or we supported each other during a difficult time, or we grew alongside each other, and sometimes I can’t even pinpoint what we have in common anymore. But these friendships still bring me joy.
Mandy,
I would love to hear a few more suggestions from you about how to know when to hold onto these friends who have grow apart from you. For instance, you mention joy. Please share more… what does this joy look/feel like for you?
I really like this post. Watercolor, tennis, yoga and pilates are on my list this year…I used to love watercolor.
I resonate so much with what you wrote about letting go…about letting things just be. Great analogy and truth.
I agree, I think we often want some friendships to last longer than the season they were intended for. I know I have…and I’m grateful that maturity and security…and freedom in my soul has allowed me to begin walking lighter with these friendships.
I recently had a conversation with a friend that said “I’m changing. I’m walking into a new season, and I don’t think the things you want from me are things I can give you anymore. I still love you, I still want to be your friend, but I don’t want you to be hurt by the changing of my season. I want to be clear that I am going to be needing more space in my life.”
It was a tough convo to have, but a beautiful one. I walked away feeling lighter, more alive, more “me.” I know it took my friend some time to process, but she has thanked me, and we’re on a once a month connect time cycle more than the daily/many times a week she wanted.
Good thoughts! You have encouraged me in this thinking. Thanks! Happy painting!
I’ve always admired your ability to have some wicked hard conversations. This little peak into a recent moment you had is enlightening, this is what loves does, it’s lets others in.
It’s so frustrating and sad to me how often people use “grace” or “niceness” to keep truth at arms length. Thank you for being a woman who blends grace with truth.
I’ve never thought of friendship this way. How helpful!
I tend to be a more intense sort of person, and I cary this intensity into my relationships in terms of my high expectations for mutual understanding, closeness, etc. I’ve totally “beat the dead horse” by trying to rescue a relationship that, in hindsight, really needed to end. I was so willing to sacrifice parts of who I am (by apologizing for things that I didn’t need to) that it probably only served to further confuse us both and limited our ability to understand one another in the separation. Every time I see this person, I feel like I have to fight to get my Self back since we parted on terms that weren’t quite right… Bummer. Thanks for pointing out how sometimes friendships end, and that it’s okay to let them go.
Caitlin,
Thank you for writing. It’s so easy to keep trying to make it work, isn’t it?!?
Have you come across the concept of differentiation? I’m learning about it right now and I think it might be helpful for you in this journey to know the Self God has made us to be. Differentiation refers to holding on to our self while we work on intimacy. I’m learning about it in the context of marriage, but I think it applies to all relationships.
Let me know if you’d like a book recommendation or two.
Also, we’ve written on “break-ups” in a few posts: http://letmebeme1.wordpress.com/category/responsibilities/break-ups/ You might enjoy them, too.
Glad for your comment.