Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Tag Archives: front door


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Open call.

I see them from time to time on social media. I experience them daily, out my front door.

They are seeking new talent, these establishments with their “open calls.” Looking for dancers and artists, comedians, performers of all kinds. It is an opportunity for so-called unknowns to have a chance. A chance to become. Be something. Someone! 

I suppose, in something of this very chance, I was scrolling by one this morning on Instagram. It was an open call to be an artist in residence in the south of France. Be inspired, they said, by all this beautiful country had to offer. The history of artists before. The museums. The opportunity was priceless. I had to laugh as I saw the location. There was no need to audition. I was already here. 

As humans, we are quick to play the “if only” game. If only I were here, if only I had this, or was able to do this, or given something, or offered that… When actually the real opportunity lies just outside the opening of our front door. For years, in my mind and heart, I have labeled it my open call — the birds singing in the trees as I begin my walk each morning. Maybe that’s why I love to draw them, to paint them. They remind me to not wait for happiness, but open myself to it, daily. The birds in Aix en provence, and all around the world, are not auditioning, they simply sing. Who am I not to join in? 

As I fill my new sketchbook page I don’t listen for the cheer of the audience, I’m already called within, wrapped in the opportunity of the bird song.

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There is motion at your front door.

Maybe it’s because I want to hear it. Maybe it’s because Mr. Iverson told us in the first grade that they could be about anything, the poems that he wanted us to write — the poems that he would inscribe neatly on the black board and our hearts, measured out note by note. And they were special. Lyrical. The ordinary things, our houses and shoes. Our games and basements and cars and trees. They all became magical because we called them poetry. 

We recently got a new doorbell for our gate. It is connected to our phones. It gives us the alert whenever motion is detected, even when it’s us. When I go for my morning walk, just past the gate, she pings in my ear and says, “There is motion at your front door.” And every day it is the poem that starts my journey. There IS motion at my front door – and isn’t it a good reminder! I always smile. Because isn’t it what we’ve been told in movies and books. By philosophers and teachers. “When you stop learning you die.” “It’s over when you stop dreaming.” “Sharks never stop swimming. You gotta keep moving.” The list goes on. It’s all about motivation. And could there be a better place to start than your front door? So I hear it. I feel it. There IS motion! I AM alive! And so I begin with my doorbell’s poem, off in search of another. Because we get to decide. We hold the chalk that turns the cursive words into prayers and sets the path of our journey. 

I have to go now. Begin. Create something. There is motion at my heart’s door. 

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