Looking Back On and Celebrating a Year's Journey

My initiatory, bardic year has officially come to a close and now I can look back and reflect on some things I've learned, what I've accomplished, and what I didn't.

First, I didn't accomplish any of my goals from my initial vow, though I did get a bit more than halfway through the Bardic Handbook and did a lot of the exercises.  I did hold one women's creativity group meeting, but that fizzled out about as soon as it came together.  I barely danced, I didn't make a costume... but I may have repaired a few things... and I didn't write even one song! 

I did a little better with my second vow.  The first goal was that I decide to matter everyday.  While I didn't consciously do this everyday, I like to think that I accomplished this one.  It has been a process, but now I know that I matter, what I do matters, and hey, you matter too! I also met my goal of 30 consecutive days of creative action (even though it may not have been exactly consecutive).  I have to say, that it was really fun and it brought some important things to light, mainly that creative actions can be microscopic in the greater scope of things, and still have a profoundly positive impact on one's life.  Making the intention to do just one creative thing every day, made me feel good, successful and less stressed.  I love that I didn't define what that creative act had to be, it just had to be creative.  I did it because it was fun, and for no other reason.  That is what remembering how to play looks like, and there's nothing better than playing, am I right?

Okay, so I didn't go out and sing a bunch with others, in performances or otherwise.  I didn't get a hammered dulcimer, write a lullaby for my baby ("hey, I don't suppose you want to come out now, do ya?") or put on a bardic salon.  I did, however, discover that I don't want to pressure myself to sing, to be a singer or do anything having to do with music unless the passion for those things returns unbidden.  The fact is, I just don't feel it anymore... and I'm okay with that.  As for the dulcimer, I'd still like to get one someday, but hey, why rush a good thing?  If I'm meant to have one, I will have one, when I'm ready for it.  The bardic salon got traded in for a blessingway, which was a beautiful preparation for my impending initiation into motherhood.  I shared this event with my closest lady friends and wouldn't trade it for a billion bardic salons.  The lullaby I was going to write for my baby is living inside of me, just waiting to be sung the first time I hold her in my arms.  I've sung many a lullaby for other people's kids when I was a nanny, and I anticipate that it will be just as much of regular ritual with my daughter as it was with all the other little ones I've loved.  These lullabies just don't get recorded or written down.  They live in the moment, channeled in soft and gentle tones, exactly as they need to be for baby and me, and that's what's so wonderful and magical about them.

So, things didn't turn out how I anticipated.  I had no idea that this year would bring with it all of the intense life changes and revelations that it has.  That's why I didn't accomplish all of the specific goals I set for myself.  Maybe on another plane, my life would have danced in and out of circumstances that favored my realization of the (rather arbitrary) things I was aiming for, but here, it just wasn't meant to be.  The biggest lesson I've learned from all of this is that taking life as it comes with a good measure of grace and acceptance, will always lead to the most important accomplishment in life, that of growing even deeper in to your highest potential.  What more could I ask for?  After all, this whole project was ultimately meant to bring me to a greater place of self-understanding, a more solid foundation from which to stand (or jump, or dance), and to help me find a stronger connection to my creative self, my God-self, and my Creator.  In that context, I can say, mission accomplished!  Yay for me! 

There is another lesson I take from all of this, which may not be as profound as the one above, but I think it will help me as I move forward (and maybe it will help you too).  I picked way too many goals all at once.  Sure, they were all interrelated, but really, I could have taken one of the goals from my lists and spent an entire year on it.  I tend, in my ADD sort of way, to want to do it all NOW, thank you very much!  Unfortunately, all that multitasking actually leads to lower levels of productivity and sub-par outcomes.  It's overwhelming and usually impossible.  Considering my circumstances, I don't feel bad that I didn't accomplish most of my goals, but I recognize that under different ones and in the past, this lack of accomplishment would have made me feel like a failure.  It's no surprise, that piling on more than one person can reasonably handle is just setting them up for the fall.  I realize now that I need to be more realistic about what I can actually handle at any given time.  I am not a super woman with two brains and six arms, so I shouldn't set goals that require such mutations.  In the course of this year, I have learned some things that will help to improve my goal setting abilities.  The most important thing I've learned for goal-setting (and life) is patience.  I finally have some of it.  Yeah, amazing, I know.   In order to have patience, I have also had to foster the ability to go with the flow, let go and to be grateful for what I have in the present.  Now I know better when to persevere, when to give up and when to shift gears and I don't beat myself up for any of it!  Yowzers!  This is big, it's huge, it's super awesome and profound and I am endlessly grateful for this shift in me. 

So, now what?  Well, now I'm going to keep learning about how to patiently aim towards my goals, one tiny step at a time, all whilst going easy on myself and you know, having some fun.  In fact, I'm not gonna even bother setting goals for myself if they aren't fun for me.  What's the point?  I'm not doing anybody any favors by setting out to accomplish things that I don't want to do, just cause "I have to" or whatever.  I'll only be helping y'all out if I stay true to my heart and go for my wildest dreams.  Why not join me in the process?  I'll be blogging all about it over here, just for fun, of course!

Oh, and I can't forget... 

I now pronounce myself a more wizened bard than the novice bard I began this year as.  I am now officially, a Bard of Life (in my second year in a lifetime of years to come)!  So ends this journey.  Thanks for joining me, it's been great! 

The Bardic Vow - Upscaled

Click here to read my Up-Updated Bardic Vow.  Life has a funny way of taking you to unexpected (and often wonderful) places.  I'm grateful for everything that this year-long journey has given me.  In many respects, I am not the person I was when I began.  I have grown in leaps and bounds and that's the most I could ever ask for.  Here's to the next year and all the unknown adventures it holds for me!!!

A Rant... on Life.

I'm pretty sure that I've said this all before, but in different words.  Repetitions and reminders are good though, so here it is...

There's something about every individual that makes them completely unique and infinitely similar to others.  In other words, oftentimes, that which makes us distinct is the very thing that connects us to others, because they too, have something of those distinctions in them.  This is a paradox, a contradiction of sorts, and it is the often confounding task of every person to find that unique cocktail of qualities that will make them more relatable and ultimately more true to their own perfect nature.

I've been asking myself what unique qualities I would like to share with others.  What do I have that would serve my own need to curiously engage in life as well as serve the curiosities in others in ways that no one else is offering them?  Is being so distinct and so relatable even possible?  I suppose what I am getting at is: I want to stand out and fit in all at the same time.  I want to be a leader, leading others back to themselves, not to some set of intellectual concepts, not to a spectacle of my ego, not to a mythology of life that they have to adopt in order to feel real.  I want to do this by way of leading myself back to me, ever more deeply connecting to the never before manifested truth of myself which is the immortal and infinite truth of everything that has, does and ever will exist (another paradox, for ya).  I want to lead by example. 

Perhaps, even wanting that, I inhibit my ability to naturally fall instep with myself.  I have a desire, yes, but in order for that desire to manifest, must I let go of it?  Again, a paradox.  In order to come more fully into my true nature, I must stop wanting to come into it and quite simply, be it.  If I feel out of step with myself in some way, I can simply stop and start again, with a new step. 

The only thing that keeps us from ourselves is our own resistance to ourselves.  We get in our own way and we have only to choose to stay in it or to get out of it.  As the Borg so eloquently put it, "Resistance is futile."  If life is meant to be lived, why resist it?  Resistance creates boredom, passivity, disappointment, and stagnation.  What's the point, if that's all we get? 

Wow!  This world is so full of wonder and possibilities, there is adventure and insight to be had around every corner, there are excellent lessons to be learned and healings to journey through.  Wouldn't you rather step into life (even if they're very small steps) this way, instead of stand in life with all the tension and control and fear that is resistance?  I know I would.

But I digress.  I seek only to grow throughout life and live as an inspiration to myself with the hope that somehow, said inspiration will be contagious to others, such that it can spread like a horrible epidemic across the multiverse and make what we call life something to be truly grateful for.  I want this, because quite selfishly, I want to live a content and happy life, full of all of the good and bad and wonderfully strange things that make existence all worthwhile. 

So be it.

Hurricanes

We are not alone in this dance,

where shame strikes the core

and real broken hearts stop bleeding.

It is still here,

where the pain of everything

is dead 

like Winter is dead.

Dormant and waiting

to push through the anger

of Spring.

It is never fair to quantify pain.

As though yours or mine is more significant

because more was broken at the surface.

Swallow hard, 

the horse pills of life,

they say.

But what's not told,

is the story of containment that begins to brim over

and seep this toxic waste

silently into the soil.

Gently, the living suffocate

beneath the held breath of blame

as we all "buck up" and bear it.

Here, our tiny ones hold better wisdom;

wail and flail in the inner storm

gasp and groan

as the chaos surges through

then lay, all calm in the quiet pause

and with equal abandon bask 

in the light of joy.

Photo Shoot Fun!

I love that I've let myself off the hook.  I've removed the pressure to be creative and I'm just letting the urge hit me as it comes.  It's no longer about striving for something, no longer about becoming something or proving something.  It's about enjoying my life, about exploring and indulging in my curiosities.  It's not about perfection, it's not about being good.  It's about being real, authentic and being exactly where I am in the moment.

Today, I felt creative.  I decided to sing a song and record it in Photo Booth.  I didn't like it much cause I don't really know the song and if I'm going to share it, I want to really know it, like a good friend.  That way, I can actually introduce it to others, share it, let it show itself through me.  Maybe I'll work on it, maybe not.  We'll see.

I also got inspiration to take a few pictures of myself in Photo Booth.  I don't know anything about photography and obviously the little camera on my computer isn't going to take the highest quality pictures in the world, but I had fun playing with the limited lighting in my room, the back lighting of the window and posing for the camera.

The above picture just happened to come together very nicely.  I tried to do variations on it, but I couldn't recreate whatever it was that came through me in those few seconds.  It looks so spiritual to me, with the light on my face, looking upwards, hand on my heart.  I think it captures a certain energy that comes with being pregnant.  This state of being is one of the most physical states one could be in, but concurrently, it is also a very spiritual and emotional state.  It's creativity in the most tangible form.  I feel like growing this baby puts me in closer contact with my own creator, by putting me so intimately in the role of being a creator.

This is the most important creative project I've undertaken to date and it's only the beginning.  It's a project that I am so fully dedicated to and that I know will teach me untold lessons and give me many unexpected gifts.  I'm so grateful for being given the opportunity to become a mother.  It's something that I've wanted for a long time.  I'm curious to see how this new phase in my life will effect my creative path.  One thing I'm certain of is that it will help me see my world in a wholly new way and that alone is ripe for discovering new vistas of creative inspiration.

Found Words

I am in the process of shedding the detritus of my past, in thought and form.  In the process, I came across some interesting bits of writing.  Here, I offer some highlights, edited to better suit me now.  They were all a part of one stream of consciousness composition, but stand better alone, extracted as they are.

1.  I'm looking to put more emptiness into my life.  

Space and silence and simplicity.  

Time for being, doing and thinking... nothing.  

Surrendering to each moment.

Life is only this moment.  

This, I often forget.

2.  Each moment I must 

remember, unlearn, and relearn.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

3.  My love is deeply buried beneath your wounds, my wounds.

I've agreed to eat your acid, as you eat mine, as I eat mine, as you eat yours.

We've agreed to pull us down and feed our fears.

Your pain grips you and it clings to mine.

They see one another and they want to survive.

Your pain needs a reason to thrive, it needs a cradling and mine does fine.

My pain wants reassurance that it's the worst of the worthless and yours says it loud and clear.

You're lost in a void, a fog, a loop.

I'm right there with you.

It feels as though we're leagues apart.

Yet we're holding hands and drowning one another and clipping our wings and crippling things.

Our most toxic selves slip into this dance so effortlessly.

Somehow we believe that we can get what we desire this way.

Instead we are gifted with sorrow and our hearts leak what little remains.

OMG!!! What do I do with my life?

It's a question that has haunted me for many a year, one I've thought to have answered a number of times, in my youthful naivete.  Alas, the thought has been occurring to me of late, particularly regarding my creative endeavors.  In fact, this question has always, in one way or another, revolved around my creativity.  This is because, from an early age, I decided that it was my talent which would get me somewhere in the world, more particularly, my talent for singing.

Up until age 18, I knew what I was going to do with my life, thank you very much.  I was going to go to college and major in vocal performance with a minor in theater.  I would then do whatever I needed to do to become a professional opera singer and possibly also a pop artist ala Tori Amos.  This track would lead me, quite easily into a life of abundance and leisure where I would enjoy living in an old Victorian farmhouse in the countryside with my husband and children in the off season and travel the world performing for loving fans the rest of the time.  My vision of the future was both romantic and tragically naive, despite the fact that I did have the potential to make a career for myself as a singer.  The truth is, I was clueless about how the world worked and how much work it would take for me to accomplish such a gargantuan task.

When my first year at college began, reality slowly edged it's way into my world.  First of all, while I had the voice, I didn't quite have the demeanor.

Before entering college, rebellion against the world and a raging anger toward my parents lead me towards punk, alternative and indie aesthetics and philosophies.  I wore a lot of tomboyish outfits with ironically girly accents, I was a self-proclaimed bisexual in a school where I didn't know any other kids who were out, and I loved sitting around reading about Wicca and listening to my humble collection of LP's and 7 inches.  I didn't listen to opera or classical music much, accept when I had to learn a new song.  I loved singing the stuff, but I was definitely more a fan of modern music.

Of course, the music program at my college had it's fair share of eccentric students, but I couldn't seem to find others that had quite my mix of quirks.  These were quirks that I really wanted to explore at university, being in what I had dreamt of as a hotbed of intellectuals and artistes, far more mature and sophisticated than the obnoxious high school students I had more than gratefully left behind.  Sadly, it didn't take long for me to discover that I was surrounded by almost as many average-minded people as I had been in high school.  Even the teachers seemed to lack imagination, having very specific ideas for how they would like to groom me, in order for they, themselves to shine in the light of my impending success.  To make matters worse, I came to understand that in order to "make it" I would have to play at politics, kissing ass and conforming to certain norms, probably for the rest of my life.  It was obvious that I didn't fit into the mold I was being presented with, and I didn't want to be shoved in.

My displeasure at these realizations and a palpable, though veiled anger stemming from my parents divorce while I was in high school left me feeling lost and led me to seek escape.  I'd arrived at college with the express intention to avoid alcohol and to be very studious, inspired as I was by my then teetotaling older sister.  I even chose my college in part because it was a dry campus and didn't have a Greek system.  Unsurprisingly, it wasn't long before the lure of parties, booze and pot broke down my resolve with the help of my first roommate who took me out the first few times.  This gave me the perfect impetus by which to dampen my emotions, I'd found my escape mechanism. 

While I didn't let this new found pastime completely derail my academic and creative pursuits, it definitely contributed to a burgeoning sense of failure in me.  It lead me into careless trysts with young men who had no real interest in me as a person, which only reflected my lack of self-respect.  It dumbed me down and made my work sub-par.  I was wracked with guilt for my transgressions, but I couldn't and wouldn't really face it.  My beautiful dream of being a singer began to crumble all around me and the hint of cynicism that I'd begun to adopt in high school through my admittedly suburbanized punk-rock aesthetic began to overtake it.  I grew ever more disenchanted with my experience at college and the alienation that it fostered, so I decided not to return the following year.  Along with great skepticism from my parents, this decision incited the wrath of my voice teacher who insisted that I was never going to sing again, despite the fact that I asserted my intention to return to a different college within a year.

Admittedly, not everything was negative during my first year at college.  Ironically, I found refuge in some intellectuals outside of the academic setting through my first "real" boyfriend, a city local.  These people read voraciously, talked philosophy and art and were the first examples of autodidacts that I'd ever encountered.  This totally blew my mind and expanded my world view.  My boyfriend had dropped out of school after the 8th grade and had no formal education after that.  He didn't, however, stop learning.  He was one of the strangest, most brilliant and creative people I'd ever met.  He was also wildly temperamental, immature, unemployable and living with his mother.  The other highlight for me was a class on 20th century music which spanned a variety of musics in the Western Classical tradition and it's various influences, from Impressionism to Jazz to early electronic music, which was equally mind-expanding and inspiring.

All of the above events led me to decide to enroll in a much more unconventional college, where it was likely that I would encounter kindred spirits and be able to experiment more freely with my above mentioned quirks.  As planned, I entered this school after working for a year at a multinational coffee chain that I'm embarrassed to admit ever having been affiliated with.

Still filled with cynicism and more aimless than ever, I attempted to construct a new dream from the rubble of my old one.  While I did find myself in a group of true peers and was excited by the prospect of exploring the previously uncharted territories of experimental and electronic musics, the demise of my songbird dreams and subsequent self-destructive behaviors had thoroughly dismantled what little confidence I'd had in myself.  This was not a recipe for success at this school, where self-direction and discipline where the prerequisites for obtaining a worth while education and experience.

I found myself in a situation where on the one hand, I was being challenged and exposed to new and exciting opportunities and concepts, while on the other hand I was surrounded by predominantly male peers and teachers who seemed to be struggling with their own set of insecurities.  This often translated into an egoistic competitiveness, or as a (male) friend once described it, the penis check.  Being without the motivations of the testosterone laden human contingent, I didn't feel the need to compete in such a way.  However, I was deeply affected by their posturing and began to feel incompetent because I couldn't join in the mutual masturbation over specs, gear and the like.

Instead of reaching out and finding the mentorship and support that I truly needed, I receded into my shell and projected a deceptively confident holographic image of myself into the world.  I tried to be authentic, to take risks, to express myself deeply, but I couldn't seem to break through the over arching feeling of loss that had embedded itself inside of me with the advent of my dream's demise at my first college.  While I was still using my voice extensively in my work, in a way, the prediction of my voice teacher at college no. 1 was coming true.  I wasn't singing anymore.  I slunk away from most opportunities to sing with my classmates, and where I did sing, I was full of fear.  I don't think that this was entirely apparent to others, but to me, it was a constant struggle.  I had some good experiences at this second college, but I certainly didn't leave feeling successful.  I was full of new dreams and ideas for what I wanted to do, but found myself too groundless to grow and harvest them.  Many things I didn't finish and what I did complete, was stunted.

In the course of the three years I spent there, I adopted a decisively radical, us vs. them, political philosophy as a defense against the rawness and vulnerability that I felt inside.  I hated the status quo, the mainstream, money, society, and in many ways, life.  While I still wanted to do music, performance and creative stuff on a regular basis, I didn't want to "sell-out", so I decided that I was never going to make money at it.  Instead, I figured that I could go into another line of work, which would allow me to work part-time and support my "creative habit".  I chose to go into massage therapy, because I was genuinely interested in holistic health care and I had this notion that it would be easy work, easy money, and that I would be good at it. 

About two years after I graduated from college, I enrolled in massage school.  The 18 months I spent there was a breath of fresh air.  It was growthful, nurturing and fed a curiosity about life and the human body that had been emerging in me for a number of years.  Massage school made me a better person and aided in my own healing.  For once, I felt supported and included.  After the confusion of my college years, I had a tangible goal ahead of me.  Once again, I had a dream to reach for.  By the time I had completed my massage certificate, I had become a nanny, a doula (birth coach) and had specialized in prenatal massage.  I also kept up my creative pursuits, after a fashion, here and there, in the way of dance, music and art, but that part of my life was still too laden with the dust of disappointment to be very satisfying.  Still, my new career as a massage therapist would give me the time I needed to resurrect something of my childhood dream to navigate the world by my true purpose, my creative talents.  So, with my new goal in sight, and in spite of growing health problems, I got my license to practice and set out to start a new chapter in my life.

Much to my chagrin, I soon realized that my rosy colored dreams don't often translate into reality.  Sure, I had grown immanently more cynical over the years, but paradoxically, I was still the same, head-in-the-clouds romantic that I'd always been.  Unsatisfied with the life I was living, I was always escaping into the potential future of my desires, while turning a blind eye to the sticky reality of the briers I'd become tangled in.  Being extremely sensitive and ungrounded (something that massage school unfortunately didn't fix for me), I found rubbing the bodies of strangers to be anxiety producing and painful.  This is something I should have copped to while in school, but I didn't recognize it for what it was at the time.  Massage as a career became an unlikely prospect.  While I did work part time on and off for a few years, it certainly wasn't the support for my "creative habit" that I'd hoped for.  So much for having a tangible plan with a predictable outcome.  My life's path and purpose were yet again in question.  What do I do with my life?  What is my purpose?  Why can't I focus on a singular creative goal?  Why can't I make a decent living for myself?  These and many other questions have since lead me through a maddening maze of cause and effect, trial and error, oftentimes confusing and only further implanting a sense of failure in me.

Since I left massage school, I have been shooting in the dark, attempting to answer the above questions.  I have been trying and striving, seeking alternative kinds of work, joining various types of choirs, making business plans that never see the light of day, and voraciously reading books on creativity and one's life purpose.  I've spent countless hours attempting to "mechanically" fix myself in order to yank it out of me (whatever it is).  I've fretted, worried, pushed myself, avoided things, procrastinated, and put half-assed effort into creative projects.  Still I've soldiered on, which, thankfully has brought with it some wonderful blessings.  I have learned and grown in leaps and bounds and I am more grounded and clear headed than I used to be.  I like to think that I have become at once more pragmatic and realistic, whilst remaining a romantic.

The last two years have been some of the most transformative of all.  By way of an extremely harrowing intimate relationship and a host of personal losses, I was taken through a much needed, albeit painful initiation which shattered my sense of self.  Through this trial, I was faced with the choice to remain broken or to regenerate, recreate and rediscover myself.  I chose the latter.

Now at the precipice of realizing a much sought after creative dream, that of having a child, my belly becomes round and juicy with life and what really matters begins to emerge out of the shadowed compost of my past.  I am beginning to realize that these questions, plans and goals are futile.  The truth is that I do have some great talents, but that doesn't mean a damn thing in terms of what my life needs to look like.  Perhaps my talent for singing and other creative abilities will fuel my way through life, though it's unlikely that it will be in the ways I'd once expected.

I love being creative, it makes my life so much richer and more worth while.  When I have a daily practice of creativity, I feed my soul and fill myself up so that I can function and participate in the world from a good place.  The catch is, that this creative practice can't have a bunch of expectations attached to it and it can't be enmeshed with my self-identity.  That is where I went wrong as a child and a young adult.  I attached my core identity with the concept of myself as a singer and later as a radical, a healer, etc, etc.  Along with these concepts came multitudes of expectations, which, when I couldn't meet them, left me feeling like a failure.  Be it creative, singer, or healer, it is not something that I am, it is something that I do because I love doing it.  If I don't love it, barring necessity, then there is no reason why I should do it.

This leads me closer to an answer for my title question.  I've approached my life as a though there was always something wrong, because the dream didn't match the reality.  My life always needed fixing and adjusting, and maybe then, I'd finally get it right.  I was always chasing the dream, and never surrendering to the reality, the beautiful chaos of the wonderful life I was living.  It is time to stop trying to make myself and my life into something.  From now on, what I need to do is live my life from the center of my passionate heart, where all questions have already been answered, and all I need to do is listen.

The moral of the story:

You don't need to do anything with your life when you're actually living it.

A Rant on Creativity, Mattering and the Way

So, I did my 30 days of creative action, and then... I stopped.  Yup, I completed my task, and failed to set a new one.  It appears that my brain really needs structure to consistently get things done.  Whether it's household chores, exercise or creative pursuits, I do far better when I've consciously wrapped my head around a clear set of parameters and goals.  I'm not sure if other people's heads work this way, or if they just sort of do things effortlessly.  Okay, I do things effortlessly.  Things that have become deeply ingrained habits, like eating, sleeping, brushing and flossing, eliminating waste products, and criticizing myself.  Oh, come on!  At least I'm honest about being the harshest, meanest, most hateful critic of me that ever did exist.  Most of the time, on the surface, I tell myself nice things, but deep down, I've got me some deep seated self-loathing going on.  This is likely one of the primary reasons that I have to work so hard to be actively creative and it's certainly why I rarely feel very good about my creative accomplishments for very long. 

Again, I don't know what's going on in the minds of others, but I would venture a guess that I'm not alone here.  Creative expression, especially when presented to the world at large, carries with it a considerable amount of risk, particularly when that expression is a reflection of something very real in the person doing it.  It takes a lot of courage and a strong sense of self to go into such a vulnerable place.  The creative person needs a thick skin and to have that, they need to know that they matter and that their work has meaning.  As Eric Maisel says in his book, Coaching the Artist Within, mattering is something a person has to decide to do and meaning is something that a person creates.  I think it's very empowering to make mattering and meaning a choice.  What it does, is take it out of fate, chance, destiny or the critique of others and puts it right into the hands of the artist.  If the artist believes in herself and the work she does, she will do better work and she will feel better about it.  I imagine that it will also feed her desire to create which will make the intensive self-discipline of consistent practice in and creation of her chosen arts much easier. 

I often wonder why I don't have a disciplined creative practice.  Part of it is not having had much stability in home, job, or schedule for the last 14 years.  Part of it is never having embedded solid habits of regular creative work.  Another part is lacking a primary focus in a particular art form, but I think the biggest reason that I don't have a disciplined creative practice is because I'm still not convinced that I matter and that my work has meaning or real significance.  Sure, people may tell me otherwise, but I need to know, in my bones, in my cells, in my subconscious and conscious mind, in my spirit and my breath that I matter and that my work is meaningful.  I've tried to pep talk myself into believing, but for some reason, there are strands of memory that are stuck to me, which keep me going back to some old and ridiculous story about how I failed, how I can't, how I never will, and how nothing I do is good enough.  It's a big, heavy ball and chain of guilt, shame and general yuckiness that I just haven't figured out how to transcend.  Yet, sometimes I wonder if that ball and chain is really something to be transcended or if, perhaps, I just have to lower my expectations.  Maybe singing the odd song here and there is enough, maybe I put too much value on performing for the public (which I hardly ever do anymore) and not enough on simply doing things I love for the sake of doing them. 

I've lost the drive and the dream I had as a young person and perhaps that's okay, because I'm not that person anymore.  I am who I am, RIGHT NOW, a me with volumes more experience than that of my past self.  Unfortunately, I can't seem to shake that disappointed youth of my past, so that I can fully BE in this moment.  My old self is stubbornly clinging to me, refusing to let me decide, with full conviction, that I matter... NOW, and that whatever I chose to do creatively or otherwise has meaning... TO ME. 

This is where I need to go deeper, into my subconscious mind and have a little tea party with my wailing, youthful self.  This is where I must tell her that it's okay that she feels like a failure, that she feels under-supported, alone, confused and lame and then I must give her a big loving hug.  I need to feed her some cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches and tea cakes and let her winge and whine for a bit, tears dripping into the Earl Grey.  Then I will gently remind her that when she existed in real time, she did her very best and that she couldn't have done anything differently.  Lastly, we'll go over all the awesome things we learned from the crap that made her feel so icky and talk about how we can do things from here on out, now that we know better.  Then I'll leave my subconscious mind and forget all about it.  I'll be back here in the waking world, all me and nothing but, right here and right now, reborn and ready to go.  Hmmm.... maybe I should do that.  I wonder if anything would come of it...

OR, I could just not worry about all of this stuff and do what I want, when I want, consistently or not, and above all CHOOSE to be content with every part of myself, including the failed youth, the dreamy child and the vastly confused adult.  Perhaps the real trick is putting mattering and meaning aside, whist thinking less and doing more, without trying so hard.

Creative Action: Days 21 - 30

Take not my silence for inaction.

I have, as a matter of fact, been diligently acting on my goal in a variety of forms.  I have also found myself quite busy and fatigued, thus the lack of report on my progress.

Last week I took a Thai massage intensive that was both invigorating in terms of all the exciting new things I learned and exhausting in terms of the sheer effort of getting there, being there and doing all the said learning.  I simply didn't have the energy or extra room in my head for the kind of reflective pontificating I'm known to sloppily smear all over this blog.

As for this week, I admit, I have less of an excuse.  I've had ample opportunities to get on the computer and update you, my fair (and few) readers, but I've also been grappling with an equally available and far more tempting urge to procrastinate.  As I'm sure you can surmise, Procrastination won.  In my defense, however, I must say that I've been actively recuperating from the intensity of the previous week and I acknowledge the monstrous challenge of "getting back into the swing of things" after such a profound change in my daily life.

All excuses aside, I am happy to announce that I did successfully do something creative on all but two days in the last ten.  Mostly, I've been practicing Old Apple Tree, but I've also penned a few poems, did some catching up in the Bardic Handbook and collected materials to make Brigid's Crosses.  Below are the poems.

The Flow

Where blood flows,

Life flows...

Water moves through it...

working away at her hardened ground.

These wrinkles are rivulets for tears, Sweet One.

Ocean water is my amniotic womb fluid...

so, sing with me, Baby, in the rush of these waves.

The salt makes a buoyant cradle

for our earthen forms.

Let's let Her hold us, Deary.

Let's swim like fish in the currents

all rolled and tumbled into the waves.

The waves that gently expelled us

from our cozy caves.

And we'll flow 

and we'll float

and we'll wade in our wu wei ways.

We never stop swimming, Darling...

in the Flow.

Where blood flows, 

Life flows...

Til we reach that silent pool

where the water is still

and all the saline

has dropped to the bottom.

There - there is no Flow, Sweet One.

There - the Shadow waits.

Dynamo

I once had a cat-friend

who was an owl-friend, too.

She was a knower and a seer,

a furry Bodhisattva,

with orbital jade for eyes

(to penetrate the skin of souls)

Soft and sharp,

her love was fierce

and her will, a massive expanse

beyond her size.

She accompanied me through darkness

and brought me to light

in countless moments in time.

Certainly, she would have eaten me,

had I died,

but that is loyalty in cat eyes.

She has moved on now,

to another world,

where she's all canines and angel wings.

But sometimes I feel her,

my dear friend, 

my owl-cat,

right by my side,

like a bit of her never left,

like she embedded into my soul

something of her stoic resolve

to soften every human heart

one lap at a time.

Creative Action: Day 20 - Story Outline and Mental Processing on Creative Priorities

I had a nice day today.  I started off by making a small breakfast and beginning reading a book on boundaries (I need this, I really, really need this...).  Then I proceeded to vacuum all of the floors in the house, with three different vacuums.  No, I am not a vacuum collector, it's my mother, with whom I'm currently living, who has three for various purposes (upstairs, downstairs and... stairs).  Being the minimalist that I am, I am campaigning for consolidation at the nearest opportunity.  But, I digress.  This is not what I came here to talk about.  Though, I must say, getting this small chore done was hugely satisfying when combined with my successful putting away of laundry and changing of bedding.  You may be laughing, but being pregnant has zapped my energy of late and it is no small feat to achieve small things when one is so tired.  I'm happy to say, that the addition of an iron supplement, which includes B12, Vit. C and a collection of iron tonic herbs seems to have lifted some of my fatigue fog in the last few days.  But, again, I digress.  What was truly nice about this day, aside from the sunshine (which I enjoyed for about 10 seconds this morning) was hanging out at a cafe in Portland and catching up on my reading out of The Bardic Handbook.  Due to my chaotic life and my tendency to lose focus over time, I am way behind.  However, I do intend to catch up over the coming weeks, and I'm determined to finish it against all odds!

Today, I read about storytelling and decided to write the outline for a story that has been developing in my mind since I was a teenager.  I have started the story twice and lost it, twice.  Both times it began in the same way with the same three characters and both times the story began taking slightly different courses based on where I was at in life, but I was never really sure where it was going.  I realized today, that after all these years I finally knew the whole story.  I have finally lived it out.  It is fantasy deeply imbued with archetypal and symbolic narrative as much as it is mythopoeic autobiography.  Basically, the whole thing is a metaphor for the initiation from childhood to adulthood, weakness to strength, co-dependence to interdependence.  It is also a story about taking responsibility for one's life and looking deeply into one's shadow via the mirrors cast by others in order to do so.  As I was writing, I saw it as a movie.  It would make a great movie.  So, I'm not sure if I'll write it as a short story or a script.  We'll see. 

After I finished with this exercise, I decided to journal on my creative priorities.  This came about after considering the discussion on the art of storytelling in the Bardic Handbook and having thoughts earlier in the day regarding my plan to sell my guitar in order to get a hammered dulcimer. 

There are many, many creative things that I enjoy doing and many of those, I am good at, but how much time and energy to I really want to devote to all of these things?  If I were to become a storyteller, a singer, a guitarist, a dulcimer player, an actress, poet, composer, dancer, writer, etc, etc., I would surely be a jack-of-all-arts and crafts, but a master of none.  Is that what I really want?  My answer to this is a resounding, NO.  I want to be a master of a craft or two.  I think that's the only way that I'll ever be truly satisfied as a creative person.  But a master of what?  Here's where I often get tripped up.  So, I thought, one of the best ways to identify what you want is identifying what you don't want. 

For example, after considering being a "storyteller," in the sense of sitting by the fire and reciting an epic tale over the course of five nights (or even one that lasts 10 minutes), I decided that really, that's not my cuppa tea.  Now, I love the idea of telling stories, but in a different form.  One that takes on a more pageant-like, musico-theatrical community happening type of quality.  Knowing this, I am not going to bother memorizing a bunch of stories and telling them to friends at parties.  I will however, be happy to learn more songs, practice them regularly and share them with friends at parties.  I would also love to assemble ensembles to put on seasonal pageants on the muddy lawns of public parks for the enjoyment of random park-goers.

Here's another example, in regards to my guitar: after taking lessons and trying to practice regularly for a time, I realized that my heart just wasn't in it.  I just don't like playing the guitar.  Despite being advised to keep all of my instruments, lest I need them someday, I have chosen to sell the guitar, because I don't want to play it.  I want to play a different instrument, for some inexplicable reason, which I've chosen to put my trust in.  Making such a definitive decision has proven to be very liberating indeed.  I don't feel so weighed down by having to learn to play this instrument that happens to be in my possession, just so that I can say, I can.

It's amazing how knowing what one doesn't want, frees one to put greater focus on what one does want.  I am still sorting out some of this, but it's becoming clearer and clearer with the help of these sorts of exercises, just like my spelling is slowly improving with the help of spellcheck.  Yay, for eliminating the endless clutter of modern life and getting down to what really matters!

Creative Action: Days 18 and 19 - Apple Tree Wassail

Yesterday and today I began learning a new song.  It is the Apple Tree Wassail, also known as Old Apple Tree.  The words and music were collected by Cecil Sharp from William Crockford, of Bratton, Minehead according to this helpful website.  Cecil published this and many other songs in his Folk-songs from Somerset in 1904.  I found the song in my new book, Make Merry in Step and Song, which, unfortunately, fails to include such citations.  I like to know as much as I can about the songs I sing, it allows for a richer connection to it's essence.

While I'm still learning about the history and purpose of wassailing in England, I love the idea of singing and making incantations to plants in order to encourage abundance in the future harvest.  This wassailing tradition usually takes place at the New Year, however, I figure it's never too late to offer blessings and well wishes to something that gives back so generously, like an apple tree.  I think I will find one such tree once I've properly learned this song, and practice my wassailing, perhaps with a few friends in tow.  I would also like to record the song and post it on here.  For now, here is an interesting clip on the tradition of wassailing and another clip of the song itself.

Creative Action: Drawings as Promised

This is the piece I did yesterday.  Usually I spend hours and hours on a drawing if it's a larger size... With this, I just didn't feel like putting in the time and effort.  Instead, I decided to have fun with it, finish it quickly and not try to fix any "mistakes".  This is the reason I added the quotation, "Perfection is Sloppy".  Trying to be perfect rarely results in quality.  Embracing a certain amount of chaos is both liberating and allows one to get the job done!

I put the finishing touches on this yesterday, and worked on it the day before.  I started this picture before my Creative Action Plan.  It's not my favorite, but every drawing I do is a practice in curiousness and experimentation, so the fact that I had fun with it is all that really matters.

I drew this in 2011 at some point.  I think it was in October or November, not sure.  I was trying out a little bit of cross-hatching.  It worked okay, but left the main subject looking a little dirty.  I like this picture.  It is whimsical and I like to think that the two characters are friends on an adventure.

Creative Action: Days 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17

Okay!  Finally a minute to share my doings of the last few days.

Saturday, January 28th 

I went to my friends house and enjoyed participating in a talent show!  My friend, her boyfriend and I starred in my original skit entitled, The Ballad of Screamie and Joe-Bob.  This genius mini play in 3 scenes and a reprise was a story about my character Screamie Sage Bush and her very naughty kitty, Joe-Bob Cat.  I wrote it when I was living in Eugene, OR and was participating in theater workshops hosted by No Shame! Eugene.  I never got to see it performed there, so it was very satisfying to have it performed on Saturday!

Here's the synopsis: Screamie finds Joe-Bob tearing up her double wide and listening to goth music (or in her words, godforsaken music of the Devil).  She quickly switches the radio to her country station and hears an advert on the radio for the Cat Whisperer, a reality TV show that is seeking participants in her area!  Screamie immediately calls and is selected to be on the show.
A few weeks later we see Screamie and Lovely Lita Lo, aka the Cat Whisperer and Joe-Bob in front of her double wide.  Lita interviews Screamie and then asks her to leave so that she can get a one on one read with Joe-Bob.  Joe-Bob indicates that he feels caged and wants a new home, but Lita is concerned that his circumstances may not be better elsewhere and so suggests improving his current situation instead.  She offers Joe-Bob two different medications that will help him cope with Screamie and her Elvis loving ways.  The first is prozac and the second is medical marijuana.  Joe-Bob immediately chooses the pot because of it's immediate effects.
Next we see Joe-Bob in the trailer smoking a joint and listening to jazz.  Screamie enters and is deeply chagrined.  Jazz is no better than goth in her opinion.  She attempts to change the music, but Joe-Bob successfully convinces Screamie to partake of the medical marijuana and she quickly relaxes.  Joe-Bob and Screamie begin to cuddle and listen to the music, which as Screamie now says is, not so bad.
At the reprise, we see Screamie and Joe-Bob laying on the floor surrounded by empty food containers.  Now reggae is playing.  They have obviously had way too much pot, in fact, they have finished off Joe-Bob's entire six month supply.  Pathetic though they are, they seem to be getting along better and Screamie closes the scene by declaring, Jah love, kitty, Jah love. 

Sunday, January 29th

I had the great fortune of returning to a favorite activity, ecstatic dance, more particularly, Sacred Circle Dance.  I saw many old familiar faces, met up with a friend from Eugene, and ran into some other friends whilst there.  The joy amongst the dancers was palpable and the DJ served up a very nice musical mix.  It's not very often that I find myself in a place where people are truly letting loose and enjoying themselves (especially without drugs and/or alcohol) and that's what I generally find at this dance event.  Not only that, it's a family friendly atmosphere where little kids weave around adults who are engaged in hypnotic rhythms and sweaty salutations.  It's a safe space to move, watch, and just be.  What a gift to my body, my heart and my spirit!

Monday, January 30th

I confess that I didn't really do anything creative on Monday.  I was tired most of the early part of the day and when I finally got myself going, I had to head to my little tutoring job and then pick up my baby daddy at the bus station.  To be fair, I did have to employ a fair bit of creativity in my tutoring job in order to get the kids to focus.

Tuesday, January 31st

With my baby daddy in town for my first (most likely only) ultrasound, I was distracted with having a fun and healing day with him, so again, not a lot of creative work was done.  I have to say, however, that seeing my baby on the monitor was so cool and very inspiring!  Seeing her little face, fingers, toes, heart and all that cool stuff is just raw material and increased motivation for me to spend more time working on fun creative projects that will benefit her.

Wednesday, February 1st

I worked on a picture, which I'll post once I can get a digital image of it.

Thursday, February 2nd

I completed the picture from Wednesday and drew another one.  I will also post that one once I get an image of it.

So, there it is!  The update.  I hope that I'll do better to keep up from now on!

Creative Action: Really, I Promise!

Today I finished a picture.

I promise I'll update tomorrow!

It will be good.

You will smile a large and Buddha-like smile.

You are welcome.

Creative Action Slience...

I have had a very busy and important few days.  I will have to find some time tomorrow or the next day to update all my doings.  I am simply posting this to keep myself honest and in the flow.  Now for a nice deep sleep!

Creative Action: Days 13 and 14...

It is late and I've had a very busy and fulfilling weekend!  I will update on my doings tomorrow when I have more time.

Creative Action: Day 12 - Pictures from Yesterday and a New Song

 Here are the photos I promised yesterday.  I was busy all day at my sister's house, so I didn't have time to do anything very creative with these pictures, or any thing creative at all really.  So, When I got home, I made a small effort to go online and look up a song in my new book (mentioned yesterday) and sing along with it.  I'm not sure I'm going to pursue the song further.  I'll have to give it a listen a few more times.  Then, perhaps I'll record it and put it on here.  It's called, The Two Magicians and can be heard here.

Lacamas Lake, one of the few redeeming things about where I am currently living.

This is the trail that boarders the South side of the lake.

It is very near a road, but the air is sweet enough to ignore the sound.

Creavtive Action: Day 11 - Inspiration Gathering

Today I took some photos of the lake near my house on a short walk I took this afternoon.  It was a good day for a walk, cool and mostly dry accept for a very brief sprinkle that left a faint rainbow amidst the grey clouds.  I'll post the pictures tomorrow, with witty captions and all! 

I also went to Prasad, one of my favorite (though a little over-priced) restaurants in Portland.  I thoroughly enjoyed a matcha late and a dragon bowl (quiona, beans, kale, red cabbage, seaweed, and avocado with jalapeno "cheese" made from cashews or something).  It felt so nourishing and healthy and inspired me to make similar dishes more often for myself. 

After dinner, I went to one of my favorite Portland haunts, Powell's Books.  I can spend hours and hours there because I'm a dork and I LOVE books.  I got a really cool book which had been mentioned by someone on the Silver Branch Bardic Network.  I was randomly looking at a collection of books and I just popped out at me, as if to say, You need me!  You want me!  At this point, I hadn't even read the title, I just grabbed the thing and realized that it was the book mentioned.  It is entitled, Make Merry in Step and Song: A Seasonal Treasury of Music, Mummer's Plays & Celebrations in the English Folk Tradition by Bronwen Forbes.  Wow!  That's a long title!  Anyway, it's contents are perfect inspiration and material for some of the things I've been longing to do for a very long time.  So, though it's not direct creative action in terms of producing something, it's a micro-movement (as SARK calls them) in the direction of a creative dream that I have been growing. 

Once I made my coveted purchases at Powell's, I joined some friends at a showing of a documentary called, Miss Representation.  It explored the media's influence and impact on women and in particular, how it has managed to maintain inequality in political and social arenas between men and women.  It was very well done, with a lot of well known public figures having been interviewed and a lot of eye opening statistics.  If you can find a way to see this documentary, I highly recommend it.  Check out their webpage for more info at http://www.missrepresentation.org/.

After the movie, I gave my friend, who is a singer, a copy of my vision for the women's vocal ensemble I want to create.  That was the most solid creative action I took today, in terms of actually doing something.  I asked her to look it over and think it over and then we could see if it's something we want to do together!  Very exciting!

Whew!  That's a lot of inspiration gathering for one day!  Now I have some work to do!

Creative Action: Day 10 - Substance of Stars

Resist!
     .... sleep at night...
yet reluctantly creep from my cozy nest
at dawn's breaking light

(I want to sleep all day)

Then I won't have to go to bed...
I'll already be there
Jumping from dream to dream
hugged by subconscious projections

wandering through aether
the substance of stars
underworld elevators to
otherworld angels
secret messages of deeply buried longings
and fears walking like pale perpetrators

I can't touch it
or take it with me

It's warmer there
It's easier, like I was built for it
I shadow dance
owl see
crow fly
through the dreams and the wakes

The solid people...
they forget the nighttime masqurades
me...
well, I am always there
stepping to the beats
with one foot on the ground
and one in the sky

Creative Action: Day 9 - Just Dance!

Today, I danced.  It was like meeting up with a wonderful old friend, but a little less comfortable - I realized how stiff I am!  I love dancing.  I can get high from dancing.  It's one of the best highs around, cause it's all natural and the side effects are all good!  Woohoo!  Maybe Sunday I'll make it to ecstatic dance... I've been missing it!

Creative Action: Day 8 - Singing "Rise Up, O Flame"

Monday, January 23rd

I had fun recording this.  It's a little rushed... I followed the round pattern for this song as written in Rise Up Singing, but then heard a pattern where the second and third voices come in after the word "flame" instead of "O" (which makes it less rushed and I actually like a little better).  I didn't redo it that way because I had already done a number of takes the original way and it's getting late.  Maybe when I get my little vocal ensemble together we can play around with this piece a little more.  I think it's sweet.  Enjoy.

The photographs in this little video are all taken by me.

Creative Action: Day 7 - Imbolc Celebration

Sunday, January 22nd

Today, I gathered with some lovely ladies to celebrate Imbolc.  My creative action was small, but satisfying.  I read my Meditation on Brighid, shared a song and worked on a drawing.  Most importantly, I shared time with others in an uplifting and loving way.  Having such connections with others in my life fuels my fires.  I feel more alive, supported and validated and rest assured knowing that as much as I receive these feelings, I give back by being present and supportive for those I share this time with.  I am grateful for the community of people I have in my life.  They make life worth living!

Creative Action: Day 6 -- Smaller Baby Hat

Saturday, January 21st

I finished the smaller baby hat!  I had a busy day running errands, so when I finally got home, I was ready to plop into a chair and finish this project.  As you can see in the picture, there are some real inconsistencies with the tension in the yarn.  I suppose this is something that will improve with practice.  Despite that, it serves it's function and is a much better size than the other one for a newborn.  I look forward to seeing it on my baby when he/she arrives!

Creative Action: Day 5 - Brighid Poem and Baby Hat

Friday, January 20th

I made more progress on the smaller baby hat today, but not enough to bother posting a picture of.  That was all fine and good, but my proudest achievement of the day (aside from scoring a grip of books on my wish list at the thrift store) is my Brighid inspired poem/invocation/blessing.  You can read it in the entry below!  I will be sharing this and a round at an Imbolc gathering this Sunday.  I'm very happy with it and I look forward to getting some feedback on it soon!  I also took the picture of the fire (it's from the gas fireplace here at my house) and altered it ever so slightly in iPhoto.  I rather like the effect that I achieved.

Meditation on Brighid (Breed)

Oh, burn!

You eternal Flame of my Heart,

and whisper in your crackling warmth 

--- oh, Light of my Life, returning ---

of the dormant truths lying in wait...

under the blanket of this soft, loamy skin.

Your emerging heat melts the crust of ice

(which has stilled my breath)

that my expirations may again bellow forth

to feed your fire.

Take me to your forge,

Oh, Flame, oh Heart!

to reenforce my delicately renewed form

with iron will and steely resolve.

Burn the cold of this Winter out of me

and heal these wounds

which begin to weep in the thaw.

Oh, gentle Flame,

teach me the song of my Heart,

that I may forever cradle this Light 

of my Life Eternal.

*Blessed Be to Brighid*

*She of the Ever Burning Flame*

Creative Action: Day 4 - Another Baby Hat

Thursday, January 19th

I thought and thought about what I should do today and waited til the last minute.  I decided to make another, smaller baby hat, because the other one I made was a little larger than I was going for.  I am also lacking patterns and yarn for any other project at the moment, so this was an easy choice.

This is an hour and a half worth of work (with multiple distractions and interruptions).

Creative Action: Day 3 - Sound and Video

Wednesday, January 18th

This morning I wondered for a while what I should do for my creative action.  I considered putting up my new cork board and adding inspiring things to it and I thought, that would be very practical.  However, practical turned out to be far too boring for this cold, snow-sloppy day.  I sat in front of the TV (a new vice since I moved back in with my mom and stad) and watched some mind numbing dross for awhile.  Finally, I managed to extract a thought after rather a lot of effort, which seemed like an excellent and very exciting prospect!  I watch so much TV here, I thought, but I should be making my own screen-based entertainment instead!  At least my brain won't be so drained in the end.  I remembered that I had a small collection of 30 second video clips that I had taken on my phone's camera and that I had made an experimental audio track not long ago that might go with it.  So I set out on an adventure.  I had never worked with video before, but with iMovie, any dufus can make a movie, so I set about my work. 

This my friends, is the result.  There are a few areas where I attempted to put in some crossfades, but for some reason, the stupid program wouldn't let me do it... either that or it looks easier to apply than it really is.  These iLife programs are so dumbed down that they're kinda dumb and strangely user unfriendly.  Ah, well... perhaps someday I'll be rockin Final Cut Pro (unlikely).  Anyway, I digress.  Enjoy my experiment, if you dare!

Creative Action Plan

Ideas are easy to come by for me.  I have no deficit in the way of inspiration.  It is discipline and follow through that I lack.  And it is discipline and the action born of it that make art, not ideas.  For this reason, I have decided to complete 30 days of consecutive creative action.  Each and every day I will document my progress on this blog.  It would be nice to complete something everyday, however, I may choose to work on something a little more long ranging than that which I could do in one day.  I am not limiting myself to any one project or art form, but I will work on one thing at a time until I determine that it is complete.  This may be a song, a poem, a drawing, or some other creative endeavor that catches my whim and strikes my fancy.  I don't intend to set a regular time and place for this creative action, instead, I will do something, anything - EVERYDAY, NO MATTER WHAT.  Each day before I go to bed, I will be sure to have completed my update on here.  This serves as documentation for my creative process and, I hope, will help me remain accountable to my goal.  I have been considering this project for a few days now, and have actually begun it (but not officially until now).  So, now I will share my progress thus far and feel accomplished in already knocking a few days off of my goal!

Tuesday, January 17th

My first pen drawing of 2012!  I took a quick photo of it cause I couldn't be bothered to scan it on my picky printer, so it's a little blurry, but you get the idea.  It is untitled, like the bulk majority of my little drawings.  I so enjoy these art adventures, which are always started with a random shape and done almost exclusively in black ink.  They are complete experiments.  I never have a plan going in, only a feeling.  Once the first line is drawn, I begin seeing shapes, often faces and I help them to emerge.  Some drawings go very quickly, others I work on here and there over a long period of time.  I almost always complete them, though occasionally one goes unfinished.  If you asked me to replicate any of my drawings, I could not do it.  I simply don't have the technique, everything I do is an accident... well, a sort of intentional accident. 

 This art practice is very liberating for me, because I don't have any bit of identity wrapped around it.  I don't really consider myself a visual artist and I have no real desire to be one.  This is not the case with music, which is something I caught my identity in as a very young child.  I had a dream that one day I would be a professional singer and I pursued that dream quite fervently until I was 18.  I bound myself up in all sorts of expectations about who I was and what course my life should take due to the fact that I was a singer, and a good one at that.  Unfortunately, my life didn't follow that course and I have not yet achieved my dream.  I have had an incredibly difficult time finding my path regarding my desire to sing and I still have no answers in that direction.  I have some ideas, but nothing concrete.  I've tried to divorce myself from this self-identification and all the story that comes with it, yet there is something deep within my soul that whispers, do not give up.  It's that small voice who's call, it seems I must one day answer.

Sunday, January 15th

I just realized that I skipped Monday, but I've been quite sick, so just this once, and because I hadn't officially started this creative action project, I'm going to let myself off the hook.  I feel justified in this decision because I spent the previous four days or so reacclimating myself to the art of knitting.  My first attempt was unacceptable, so I had to start again.  The second attempt was much better, but still rather novice.  This is a hat intended for my first born, due this summer.  It was a joy to make and I hope to make some more knitted goods in the coming months.  Perhaps I'll make some more hats for other babies soon to join my immediate and extended family or maybe some toys.  I'll have to see what gems of yarn I can find at SCRAP in Portland, that should lead to some knitting inspirations!

Yay!  So here it is, two days down, 28 to go.  I'm excited to see where my little project takes me.  May it be fun, if nothing else!

The Violent Voice

Frozen ice

          parched throat

     bound in bat's wings

heat courses through

  petrifying

               with electric shock....

                                                           ....your sounds are saws....

(He holds a gaze

like Chinese stars)

I believe the black snake fable ---

                                how they bit you and left you

~ FULL OF POWER ~

I am your dream of a woman

who keeps killing you

whenever I fail to be you

                                                   ....and I always do.

I am invisible

inside your dream

your unlived self is what you see

You have me on mute

but, I hear you....

snake tongue

venom

and bites.

Powerful

               by insisting

                                          you have none

Powerful

          by placing

                         it in me

(Under the spell

of his Chinese star gaze

I stand immobile)

Broken bones healed

while your tongue

caused a hemorrhage

in my Spirit

My perception is denied

as you bite again

                   at my intruding form

....to bring back your dream

and to regain the gift of snakes

The kiss 

of POWER

Here's to a New Year!

My new years resolutions:

I take all of the time I need to discover, uncover and recover myself as an act of healing and an attempt to experience increasingly transcendental states of joy.

I broaden my creative input/output continuum by practicing, studying, observing, and experimenting with my chosen crafts.

I forge new co-creative relationships and strengthen existing ones.

I perform (singing, acting, whatever) as often as possible, whenever and wherever I can.

I deepen my practice of gratitude by adopting "Thank You" as a daily mantra and increasing acts of service for others.

I gracefully pass over the threshold from maidenhood to motherhood and find space for gentleness and nurturing in every day as I adjust to the challenges that this change brings.

So be it!  Here's to a beautiful and blessed 2012!