There are two types of power; traditional and authentic.

Accumulating traditional power demands sacrifice for a well-understood balance; power must be earned by privilege and accumulated.  Traditionally, status, money, fame, and politics demand specific expenses. Time for money. Privacy for fame. Quietude for politics. Authenticity for status. Responsibility for influence. These are economic exchanges that offer calculable and physical profits; requirements are met, titles are gained, tribes grow, conquests are made.  It is power created and maintain by externalities.

Authentic power exists in love, truth, creativity, spirit, integrity, hope, joy, spirituality and even childbirth. With authentic power we are reminded we are co-creators of this astonishing life, not the gatekeepers to the traditional and mundane. Power is seeded internally and then nurtured.  Authentic power exists without rules of economics or privilege to validate it.  More threatening, this is proof that a creative force is alive and powerful in anybody. Authentic power is not an exchange, it is a fact of living. A woman, an artist, a human being on the verge of creation, art-making, expressing authentic truth and human right is about to inaugurate a miracle and confirm, once again, that there is a universal alternative power. Authentic power is free. It’s inside us, expressed in creative endeavors and among those we connect and love. It is the ultimate empowering life-source; free, abundant, and available.

For self-conscious and insecure humans, any power is a tempting target. Economics of power are always at play. It is not unlikely that someone or some institution will test the title to his/her influence. The traditionally power-starved or hungry will think, perhaps unconsciously, “I can take a little bit of this power and I will feel so much better, so much more in control.” A sweet piece of someone else’s authentic power is a battle trophy that feeds a human desire to feel powerful. Perhaps that is why authentic power is diminished into the frivolous; even as battles continue over reproductive rights.

Imagine a world where we chose authentic power. Sure a little traditional power might keep us in line. But if we all claimed and honored that authentic power in all of us, it would change the world.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

I find daily practice tedious.  Really, I do.  Even with a morning ritual, I would rather have daily variety than a predictable plan.

An unpredictable day lifts me from monotonous self-talk. Instead of the self-same stories, I can create detached fables in my head. This protagonist is confident, capable, able to adjust and flex my muscles into any new challenge.  I can surprise myself. With new context, I am awed like a newborn.  It’s a joy to be different, just different.

In contrast, day by day progress is a slow measure; an increment here, a millimeter there and then a few subtractions just to rub it in.

It’s the reason I need my daily practice.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

A wise person claims that asking yourself, “Am I better than yesterday?” is a powerful daily life practice.  Whether the answer is “Yes” or “No” during the pursuit of mastery, the practitioner’s reply must be a life-affirming, “Yes, I’m getting better at this because I practice.” Wisdom claims that answer drives doggedness through the stagnant times and frustration.

Easier said than done.

I reflect on my own pursuits which spread across parenting, painting, writing, climbing, fitness, mindfulness and admit there is no clear and simple answer.  I have given up in the past.  I’ve conceded defeat.  I’ve believed I can’t do better. I have many excuses too, and I hate excuses. I’ve discovered that what you might call my doggedness is not certitude, but an overall concession and helpless defeat that I can’t do anything else than this.

So, without anything better to do, I continue to practice. Sometimes I remember to ask myself.  “Am I better than yesterday?”  But mostly I don’t.

Then, sometimes I come across a project or circumstance that reveals my progress and I get a second wind. This painting is it.  It is my answer to the question.  Yes, today I am better than yesterday.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

“Mom! I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.” An eye roll emphasized her tweeny exasperation.

“I don’t care about what you are going to be.” I said. “You will be a lot of different things. I want an idea of what you want.”

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on me.

“I always wanted time to paint and write.” I illustrated. “Now, here I am with the time to do it”

She nodded, so I kept talking.

“Your dad always wanted to be successful. It matters less what he is, it’s the success he wants and motivates him.”

“Some people want an ambulance.” She elaborated. Our friends recently bought an out-of-commission ambulance, it’s true. “But others want to go to Mexico.”

“And others want to take a year and half off and live in Costa Rica.” I winked. That was a couple of years ago.

“So, what do you want?” I asked again.

I can’t wait to find out.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

My dad’s main parenting objective was to make memories.  He created them with variety, skill, and simplicity.

He walked with me. In hindsight, our most precious amblings were the modest ones; the everyday stroll to the bus stop.  We conversed like peers and discussed the color of the dawn, friendships and school work. I felt equal as he lectured and philosophized.

He was funny too, sometime ridiculous. Our barking spiders could be fierce. My parents’ coconut cream pie wars. He crashed, splashed and then sailed into the bay not to return for hours when he taught himself to windsurf. His untethered laugh conquered our house.

He repeated himself.  “Life isn’t fair,” was constant. “Your friends are not your friends.” He commanded me.  “Do what you say,” and “Honor your word,” were built into his heart. He transferred them to me neatly.

Now, I deliberately make memories with all his tricks and more. They are all that are left of love.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

“What do you do all day when we are at school?” My son asked me.

A pageant of vignettes marched before me. Days before he told his friends that I don’t work.  He really means I stay home to work, I reasoned, or did he?  It’s thorny to discern from a 9-years-old’s imprecise words.

“I paint, I work on my website, I blog and write, I handle orders and I teach my workshop.” I replied, ferreting a collected tone.  “Basically, I run my business.”

I didn’t say that in one day I fret and scheme, I doubt and pout. I handle thwacks of failure and near misses. I celebrate small successes. I battle my impulse to do everything and surrender to limited time. I shake it off and forge ahead.

“That a lot, mom.” He conceded. 

It is.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.