In 2018, my grandmother asked me to make her a painting of the Great Smoky Mountains. Of course, since she’s my grandmother, I wanted to make her one as a gift, but she insisted on commissioning me, which was really sweet of her to do.

Smokies Sunset (for Lavinia) 2019 acrylic on panel 16x20”

We talked about what view she’d like, and she asked for “A view.” I’m sure she asked me for a painting of the Smokies because I live near them, but also because it’s where she and my grandfather went on their honeymoon. They also went there on family trips when my mom was young.

This is the second Smokies painting I’ve made, the first of the stream along Middle Prong Trail, based on a photo my dad took. I now plan to make one of these Smokies paintings a year, to honor this heavenly place that I visit so frequently.

The ground came pretty easily, but I painted the sky, what felt like, 100 times. My grandmother is a tough critic. She’s made it known, she does NOT like my artwork inspired by fashion. She’s also dismissed the folksy wooden cut-outs I make, that ironically, are very inspired by her and my grandfather and their old farmhouse, their deep Southerness. To each their own. I, too, have very strong opinions.

I believe in the end she liked it. I was so grateful to give this to her at this time in her life. She paid me against my will and said there’d be another installment. Thankfully she forgot about that unnecessary offer. It feels tacky to take any money from your Grandmother, but at the same time, it feels like her way of dignifying me for the work I do, and I respectfully accept that sentiment.

In moments like these, I am reminded of where my stubborness comes from.

***

I’ve made this painting available in prints and in postcard form. Go to bethmeadows.com/prints and use the coupon code JAN20 until midnight on Jan 31 to get 25% off.

An Epiphany About Social Media, Secifically Instagram

I am always having epiphanies- pangs of clarifying thoughts that hit me like a tall wave in the face while the sun sets over the ocean. In other words, they are refreshing, welcome, but can be a shock to the system.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship to social media lately and how I want to participate in 2020. I’ve thought many times that I’d like to take a long break, and honestly, that idea isn’t off the table, but it most likely would only be in regard to my creative posts, the ones about my artwork. I think about a time of creating without sharing, something I haven’t given myself in years, and as I sit here and type about it, feel like my heart really wants. Let me make a pact here and now that I will make that happen.

But I have four Instagram accounts total- two for art, one for my home organization business, and a personal one. I do like to share. Love it, but I also have a lot of negative feelings toward Instagram in general, so I’ve been trying to dig deep about what bothers me so much about it, and I had a moment of clarity recently, a vision.

I saw Instagram as a highway, we as the scrollers are the cars, and each post are the billboards, the highway signs, the tall gas station signage, and even, people pulled off on the side of the road, all trying to flag us down.

Everyday, millions upon millions of cars (or scrollers) are whizzing by all the people (posts) on the side of the road. We might wave (“like” a photo) and keep speeding by. We have places to go.

As cars in motion, we don’t always even see the signs. There are too many to pay attention to.

So what are all of the signs and broken down cars (posts) asking of the cars (scrollers)? In the real life scenario of a highway, all a broken down vehicle needs is one person to pull over to help. Or, even better, they need a cell phone to call for help. And a fast food restaurant needs however many people to pull off the exit and come through their doors. They don’t need everyone speeding by to stop.

It’s helpful for me to acknowledge that Instagram is similar. First, I need to know that people scrolling are moving at a pace that limits the amount of engagement each can have to my posts so that I have a more realistic expectation for who will “wave” or “pull over.” Second, I don’t need everyone to wave or pull over. As a business, I just need as many as will pay my bills, and as a person, well, if my sisters and mom wave hello, that’s really all I can ask for. Third, to wave on the side of the road in distress isn’t a position I want to put myself in if I can help it. When things get hard, I need a support system outside of all the people speeding by to help me. I need a handful of people I can count on when I call them. On the phone. AAA is also a great option.

This metaphor helps me see better why Instagram leaves me , and so many others, with such a bad feeling. At the core, we all want to acknowledge those people on the side of the road, even the ones telling me way too much information about how their life is hard or falling apart. And on the other end of it, when I hurt, it feels like announcing it to the cars is the right thing to do. But then I can literally see how many speed by. And that hurts.

We crave this connection from each other, but we are asking for it on a dangerous highway. Instead, we need to call the tow truck to get us to safety, so that we can ask for the help we need from people who can give it.

I am a four on the Enneagram, a natural sharer of my melancholic soul. I desire for people to know me and to understand me and I’m an open book so it’s not hard to share. But when I’m an open book on Instagram, it never feels great, and I’ve always wondered why. This analogy helps me understand better. More and more, the influencers I follow on Instagram, the ones with thousands of followers, are speaking up about how they struggle with depression and anxiety. One just announced she is bipolar.

While I know how much of a comfort this is to some who struggle with the same thing, I hope these IG celebrities don’t share this news with the expectation that it will help them. I don’t think it will. Looking at the big picture, I fear it will only make it worse, because social media is designed in such a way. I only think this type of sharing works if you have a wonderful, strong, and even professional, support system outside of the highway that is social media.

It’s amazing that something so present in our society perpetuates and even causes such a mental health crisis, and we welcome it with open arms. I want us to draw a line with it, to take away it’s power. Because, as I heard someone on a podcast say: “When I’m lying on my deathbed, I won’t be thinking about how many people liked that one post that one time.” The highway is great for headbanging to your road trip playlist. The exits and sites and people we are moving to and from are where it counts.

I’ve been reading the Artist’s Way. I’ve known for a long time it’s the book that gave us Morning Pages, the daily routine of waking up and writing three full length pages of long hand.

I’m a huge self-help/self-improvement book and podcast junkie. I’m not sure, but I think I’ve read all of Brene Brown’s books, up until her more recent leadership ones. Elizabeth Gilbert, Cheryl Strayed, and then a whole slew of books disguised as business books, but really, they are also self-help books. It’s my favorite free way for me to learn about all these ideas, to refine what I do and how I think.

Self-care, vulnerability, and authenticity are so trendy these days, and even though my Instagram feed can be bombarded with scripty-fonted text images telling me to love myself, I do appreciate the sentiment. Half the time, I don’t know what that even means. The other half of the time, I don’t have time time or the money to carry out what I think that means. Wouldn’t I love to go get my nails done every week? Or even a massage on a monthly basis. What young self-employed, half-artist has the money or time to take care of herself?? This one doesn’t. Seemingly.

While these are definitely ways of self-caring, I know putting my feet in someone else’s foot bath isn’t the only way. The Artist’s Way is teaching me that. Written in 1992, it talks about all of these ideas trending today: vulnerability, self-care, authenticity, pursuing a creative life. It’s so wonderful that a book has been out there like this for so long, but also scary that almost three decades later, all of these things are such a hard notion for people to incorporate into their lives. It’s costing us greatly.

So I’ve been asking myself what free self-care means. (It has to be free. It cannot tell me to do more, make more.) And what I keep hearing is “Slow down. Spend time in solitude.”

Sigh.

I could now write a novel, a personal memoir, about over-working, hustling, beating myself to death emotionally, physically, and mentally all for the sake of creativity, for freedom, for passion. I’d love to write that book one day. For now, I sit in as much silence as I can, asking myself to embrace this life that is mine, for exactly what it is, while everyone around me tells me it should be different. Even people who “love me.” I truly believe that in 2020, if I can find more solitude, I will start to heal, and I won’t struggle to fit into this world that doesn’t make much room for artists to fit into it.

Quiet. Stillness. Solitude.

This, in a strange way, also means less reading, less listening, to all the helpful podcasts and books that have gotten me this far. They’ve taught me enough. It’s time for action- to create, to move my body, to cook great and life-giving food, to connect and engage with others. It also means doing the stuff that’s so easy for me to put off, but makes me feel so great when I get them done- cleaning, self-maintenance, auto maintenance, money maintenance. It doesn’t look like self-care on paper, but these are the nicest things I can do for myself. To make sure my kitchen sink is empty every day. Ugh. How boring. How true.

I cannot enter a new year without a list of goals, but I am thinking about them differently this time around. The way for me to get them is to create space, not to do more, be more, make more.

Last November, I launched about 25 fine art prints on the website Art From the Hills, and it’s time for them to come down!

On November 4, 2019 at 9am, all of these prints will no longer be available, so grab them before they’re gone!

Most of these prints are from the Good Packaging series, supermodels adorned in food packaging, but there are also some oldies, as well as the first legit Smoky Mountain painting I’ve made.

When you visit the site, there are three pages to look through. You can place your order and either have them shipped or pick them up if you’re in Knoxville.

Let me know if you have any questions about these prints. Am happy to answer them: beth@bethmeadows.com

artfromthehills.com/bethmeadows

Here are some thoughts I’ve had since coming off the AT after my thru hike attempt:

I didn’t expect it. I hit a point where I didn't want it anymore.

I had wanted it so badly, and I knew that if I wanted it, I'd have it.

That’s really the only difference between those who finish the AT and those who don’t. There are men and women still out there that were slow as snails, and I see their photos as they’ve entered New England. Their desire remained unchanged.

But that wasn’t the case for me. I lost my desire, and it became unimportant to finish.

A lot of people, if they are injured, will go home and take a few weeks off. Or they might hole up in a hostel for a week. I wasn’t sure of this, but I had the feeling that if I went home, I wouldn't come back. Or if I stayed in a hostel for a week or two, I’d worry so much about all the money I’d “waste.” I also couldn’t imagine my brain being able to handle being in a hostel for that long. It was hard not to keep moving, especially if it meant staying in a dumpy place alone

I don’t think it just boiled down to money, but I realized that I didn’t want to return broke. I hadn’t saved enough money to take a long break and still have money when I came back. People who complete the trail don’t look at the money they spend as a waste, but it started to feel that way for me. As the days went on while I was on the trail, I wondered if I could spend my energies on things that suited me better, toward places where I could win and not feel so defeated. I’m not at all saying that the AT is a waste, unless you are forcing yourself to keep going when you shouldn’t.

So once I got home, I held the two options in front of me: heal and later meet up with friends and hike the rest of the trail with them, or take the money I had left and invest it back into my life.

I had thought about this a lot while I hiked.

I received a wonderful amount of good from my hike, but after a while, it didn’t feel like the best investment back into my life. I realized I could take the money I had saved, return home, and for the first time work toward some things I really wanted for myself, that I’ve never given myself before: a warm home, a budget and plan for saving, a plan for my creative life. Yes, these all require money, whether I wanted to accept that or not.

It’s still difficult to think that this thing I had wanted for so long- to thru hike the AT- would be so difficult to attain, but I would have never known this unless I tried. I wouldn’t have learned just how much it would take to do.

In the end, I realize I wasn’t ready for it, but I believe that I will be able to try again one day, when I’m ready. I think about how different that experience will be, to hike with knowledge and wisdom. I really look forward to that day.

Just like in the “real world,” I can’t seem to find the time to blog. I had a romantic idea about the AT, that I’d be able to relax, rest, and write each morning or night, or even just on my off days. My romantic idea was dashed within the first week. I thought things would change once I got stronger, but each day is still a lot of work. Thru hiking the AT is no joke.  

I have been posting about my days on Instagram, however, so I hope you’ll follow along there. I’m going a little deeper there than I had planned, and it’s working out well as a means to communicate what it’s like to be out here. 

I think that even if you don’t have an instagram

account, you can still visit this link. Instagram.com/slowburnat

Please let me know if you have any questions! 

Love, 

Slowburn  

So why now?

At the beginning of December 2018, I went up to my parents cabin and had a Planning weekend for 2019.

I love planning.

I love goal-setting.

I love resolutions.

And I love this new-ish ritual of setting aside a weekend to think about the year ahead, in business and personal ways.

I knew I wanted to do something different, and I wanted it to involve travel. The three main ideas I laid out were:

1. Apply to artist residencies
2. Go on an art tour road trip. (Sort of like a budding musician goes on a house tour, I’ve had a similar idea for art.)
3. Hike the AT

I did research on each and mapped out a general idea of what each would look like. And then I slept on it.

I chose hiking the AT in the end mainly because of how extended of a trip it would be for the least amount of money, and it could come the quickest. I also knew that it would help me build some much needed confidence to do the other ideas one day, because I do still want to do them. I also didn’t need to apply to anything, which I loathe doing.

While I have liked living in Knoxville, I’ve felt the need for a change. I don’t know if that means moving, but I figure I could give it some thought while I hiked. Well, a lot of thought.

I think the main thing I wanted from doing this thru hike was a nice transitional period, from the old ways of doing things to something new. I have a lot of ideas for how I want my art career to go, etc, and having a break before making those official changes feels like the right call.

I also want to build some self-confidence that, for whatever reason, I lack. I’m not sure how much I’ll go into detail about this here, but it’s something I’m thinking a lot about, and I’d love to be able to write about someday. As you can imagine, this is a difficult subject to talk publicly about.

But I will say this about it. Wrapped up in this issue of a lack of self-confidence is a manifestation of a lot of chronic physical pain that I intend to solve while I’m hiking. There is a calling I strongly feel, to heal myself by walking in the woods.

So here is my Why, which now that I’m on the trail, has been crucial to remind myself of. If you know your why, and it remains important and healthy, it will help you put one foot in front of the other. Again and again.

The “map” I made during my planning weekend that helped me decide to hike the AT. My why is up in the top left corner, the first thing I wrote. 

“Icing” my knee at Lance Creek campsite, our first zero day

I can’t wait to catch up on these posts, and to share what it was like to prepare to leave, but I tell you what! It was so hard to find any free time leading up to the day I left. I felt like a chicken with my head cut off, going from appointment to appointment, from Wal-mart to REI to Amazon, gathering all my supplies, reading and researching along the way, as well as making sure I was setting myself up to leave home for 5 months, shutting down all business stuff, or at least hitting the snooze button on it all.

​I officially made the decision to do this in December of last year, so it’s been a mad dash to get here. I’d highly recommend giving yourself a full year if you’re thinking of doing this, and to follow a blog or vlog of a couple of people thru hiking so you can learn from them and know what to expect. There are 1 million resources online for how to prepare. I was also in need of a gear overhaul, as most of mine was pretty outdated. It’s expensive and a lot goes in to deciding the gear that’s best or you. 

​Thankfully, Jacob, my boyfriend, who is with me now, has been my greatest resource. It was not the original plan for him to start the trail with me, but when I realized how much I had yet to learn, I asked him to come with me to teach me as I go. 

Now that I’ve left, I haven’t had much mental space to blog. ​I’ve always been an avid journal-keeper, and I’m not even finding the motivation to write for myself. I am around people a lot, Jacob 99% of the time, and then other thru or section hikers. About ten have walked past me as I sit outside this tiny town motel. And if we’re not in a town with WiFi and outlets, we are in the woods without cell signal, or I’m trying to extend the battery on my phone for as long as possible. 

​I heard it, and read it, over and over, that it will take about 2 weeks to acclimate to the trail. I’d say it may take me longer than that, and even longer to train my brain.

knee brace a man gave me at Lance Creek, to get up and over Blood Mountain the next day!

It’s been brutal, y’all! I know that sounds dramatic, but everyone out here is hurting, so I know I’m not alone. And all that physical exertion, for me, is expending me mentally and emotionally. In the end, I really am ok with it (this is what I signed up for, after all) and I truly trust in the process. My process involves foot pain that I’m doing physical therapy daily on, new knee pain, most likely due to the new weight I’m carrying, a pretty stubborn blister, and neck pain from looking down at the rugged trail while holding a 30 lb pack. 

I know I won’t magically feel like a million bucks when day 14 rolls around, but I do trust in putting my time in. That if I monitor my ailments and pace myself, everything will “buff out in the end” (as my friend Gregg said who thru hiked a few years ago)​. I pray to God daily that he will give my body and my mind the ability to do this. 

Little phrases come to me ​as I process what’s going on in my life, and the one that came to me the other day while trekking up a mountain was “Be present with your pain.” 

The way I’ve been feeling has really made me fear whether I can keep this up. It makes me worry if I’m on the brink of breaking. Am I hurting myself beyond repair? These are worries I need to let go of, and focus on what I can do in the moment. The mental despair I tend to heap on top of my physical pain ​doesn’t help me presently. Time slows down to a crawl out here, and I am learning how not to worry so much about what’s to come, but to live in the moment. It is literally about putting one foot in front of the other, and not worrying about the steps I have to take tomorrow.

Ice a sweet church group gave me that also fed us at Neels Gap.  

​So, I just wanted to explain why these posts may not come often in the beginning, but I do believe I’ll find more time and energy in the future. I am finding the time to post on Instagram, which is so much easier to do. You can see those posts here: instagram.com/amyelizabethmeadows

Thanks so much for all your kind words of encouragement so far. It has meant the world to me!