The Art of Direction: Embracing Life’s Challenges with Resilience and Hope
Pen and ink contemporary fine art by Doug Ashby
“I, I’m a new day rising, I’m a brand new sky to hang the stars upon tonight. I, I’m a little divided, do I stay or run away and leave it all behind.” -Times Like These, Foo Fighters.
Direction. Where we are going, and where we have been. The push and pull of life often leaves us in moments of directionlessness. Sometimes we can remain in that state for far too long without even realizing it. Then comes the jolt—the moment we pause, step off the treadmill, and take a hard look around.
Lately I’ve been writing about the power of looking up. When we lift our eyes from the horizon to the sky, the expanse opens before us, and with it the possibility of a new path. That openness can be both exhilarating and terrifying. In those moments, the cardinal points emerge, offering possibilities. The question is: which way do we go?
Much of my art, especially in recent years, carries a steady thread of symbolism. Deep down, I’m wrestling with the pull between embracing radical change and clinging to the steady predictability of the known. Like the lyric, I am “a little divided.” On one hand, I want to remain resilient, grounded in what is best for my family. On the other, the call of the distant horizon is siren—new rhythms, fresh cycles, renewal, and reorientation.
It would be easier not to feel this tension, yet its gravity is undeniable. I search for guidance, for wisdom, for even the smallest nugget of truth to point the way. Still, I keep circling back to the same direction on the compass rose: the one that carries risk, but also the possibility of great reward.
This is not just my struggle—it’s a deeply human one. The need to reset direction, to strive toward a new purpose, is something we all encounter. And it doesn’t happen only once. Life is a continual journey of becoming. Some moments are small course corrections; others loom larger and demand more of us.
Earlier, I quoted lines from a favorite song. What strikes me now is how those words have echoed at two distinct points in my life, more than twenty years apart. Both times, I stood in the same place: confronted by the question of direction. Two decades ago, I made a choice that, looking back, may not have been the right one. But how do we ever truly know? What I do know now is that the other direction must be chosen. As I stand once more beneath the tree that has sheltered me, looking out toward the horizon, the less safe path calls louder than ever. Like so many before me, I too must take the road less traveled.
The truth is, the right choice is rarely clear. The unknowns are many. Safety offers little meaning, while uncertainty—though difficult—invites growth. On this path there may never be a single moment of ultimate clarity. Instead, there will be more crossroads, more reckonings like this one. Perhaps next time I will recognize more quickly the importance of moving forward instead of circling back. Perhaps the purpose lies not in certainty but in the journey itself, in the act of walking through the unknown.
Despite the challenges, I remain hopeful. I’ve stood at this threshold before, as we all have. The lone tree provides a temporary refuge, a place to pause and gaze toward the horizon. But ultimately, we must trust our instincts and take the first steps. The rocky climb ahead is daunting, and the temptation to look back will be strong, yet the horizon beckons.
I cannot say where this journey will take me as an artist, but I know I must find out.
As always, I hope you enjoy both the art and the words. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. The original artwork featured here is available for purchase at $440. Serious inquiries are welcome through my contact page.
— Doug
