I expected one thing, but got quite another ...

“A wonderful gift may not be wrapped as you expect.”

― Jonathan Lockwood Huie

In 1945 the British government commissioned a portrait of Winston Churchill to celebrate his 80th birthday. The artist selected was Graham Sutherland.

Sutherland was a modernist painter whose portraits sought to communicate the unflinching truth about his sitters. His finished portrait was wonderful - so lifelike, we feel we know the man without ever having met him.

But Churchill was a traditionalist - he expected his portrait to glorify him and the position he held. He expected flattery in the name of dignity and position.

He was horrified. The painting upset him so much that his wife later had it destroyed.

The problem was Churchill's expectations. They set him up for disappointment.

I've thought a lot about expectations over the last few years. I've thought about how often they trip us up or even cause us real pain.

That's why, when I embarked on my month-long trip to the other end of England, I did not have any real expectations. Many people asked me "what do you hope to get from this?" or "what is this retreat about?" but I knew better than to give a definitive answer.

All I could manage is "I'd like to make some space" and "I'd like to rest."

I knew that if I put pressure on myself to Get Something Out of It, nothing would happen. The weight of my expectations would crush any nascent thoughts or ideas. I also knew that if I made myself focus on the landscape as inspiration, I would limit the possibilities. Cornwall is beautiful, but I may not want to paint it.

Nevertheless, every now and then, expectations would rear their ugly head.

"Shouldn't you be gathering inspiration?" they would say, or:

"Are you just going to lounge about all day instead of going to see something inspiring?" or:

"This is an amazing place... why don't you want to make paintings about it?"

I knew not to listen, but they popped up anyway, as if they were trying to catch me out!

But here's why I knew not to listen ... when we set expectations for something like this, we close off other possibilities. If I focused on seeking inspiration in the Cornish landscape, I'd be so busy sketching and taking photographs and thinking about landscapes that I couldn't have had other ideas - ideas that have nothing to do with landscape painting. And if I was busy falling in love with beautiful Cornwall, I wouldn't have noticed how much it I was appreciating the place I left behind.

I am now on my way home. (As you read this, I will probably be there, but currently I am stopping the night at roughly the halfway point).

I am happy to say that I have been inspired in ways I couldn't have foreseen. I have glimpsed new possibilities for my teaching, I have been inspired with several new ideas for my art, and I have gained some clarity about what comes next in my life.

None of this came because I tried to make it happen. In fact, it came because I didn't. If I had tried to have big ideas, I would have strangled everything at birth. If I had tried to force a series of landscape paintings, I would have missed the possibilities for something else.

Instead, I simply rested and walked and visited new places and sat on rocks watching the sea. I read books and discovered some new podcasts. I met up with friends and spent time alone. I worked when I felt like it and napped when that felt better.

I believe my lack of expectations has made this an incredibly fruitful experience. I do not want to paint Cornwall, and if I came here expecting that, I might have been disappointed just as Winston was all those years ago. But I do know what I want to paint and why. I do know where I want to live and why. And i do know what I want to teach and why.

I didn't come here looking for any of those answers but I found them anyway.

So this week I want to ask you: is there anywhere in your life where expectations are causing you pain or closing off possibility?

Is there anywhere that you could let go of pre-set ideas so you could just see what happens?

Because here's the thing: we are creative beings; something always comes to us - it just needs a little space :)