Am I?

Its a more typical early Spring New England day, today. Aka: rain/wind/cold and gray

We had wacky summer weather for most of the week since we arrived.

Its only been ONE week! That alone is something to take in.

The gift?

I have yoga! Every day. My muscles are feeling it, but so is my brain!

Breath attached to movement is good for so many things.

Stress for one thing. Staying focused.

I am so much more chilled out than I was when I first got here.

My first full day was rough. I skipped yoga because the class was advanced and my ankle had just driven across the country. By bedtime I was completely overwhelmed. So much all at once and nothing real to do but worry about things that I truly don’t usually worry about. (No yoga for me for at least two weeks)

By 2 pm I was already depressed.

Six days of yoga and meditation and I am light. I’m calm. I’m fine.

The weather forcast is bleak, Morale is down. Problems are multiplying. News is unavoidable.

BUT

Im managing.

I’m regulating.

I’m okay.

Plus I know I’m lucky.

I didn’t go to yoga the first day back.

I wish I could bottle the affects if a good yoga class and pour that into my coffee.

It must be the combination of breathing consciously, moving, stretching, community and over all good vibes. I leave better than when I came in, every time . Not really distillable.

My life is used to yoga. Its not like going to the gym.

I think the gym is good, strength training is important, you just don’t get the complete whole mind/ body/ spirit treatment there and I seem to have gotten myself accustomed to having it.

Plus I find the yoga experience resets my mind when I get knocked out of alignment. If I need to regulate my nervous system, again yoga. Its a pretty well kept secret, that little magical reset.

I feel somewhat optimistic today. There will be fun. Joy is always around here, even if I have to search for it a little.

I’m okay. Two classes later and i really am.

Here’s a great question:

“…is it foolish to let what you love consume you?”

Asked and answered by Makenna Caras of Spinning Visions. If you haven’t read her blogs, I recommend you do. She can WRITE.

Her answer:

“Not if you know how to start again…”

I had a few artistic moments when I was young that helped me start to piece together some of who I was. Little, not super interesting glimpses of what would later be referred to as talent. Moments of unexplained obsession that only make sense in hindsight.

I was born loving anything art. No one, not even I, understood why aesthetics meant so much. What WAS that feeling that I overwelmed me?

In college, where I discovered that I could be competitive, I would do something amazing and then fear, that I could never do it again.

Which, I later learned, is a universal fear for creators. What if that one project is the best thing I’ll ever be capable of.

With art, excellence can happen unexpectedly, almost accidentally. Leaving the artist to wonder, (quietly to themself) ‘how did I do that!?’

Over the years I’ve done art that has made me feel that way. I’ve also created art that makes me cringe and question how I could call myself an artist at all.

I had to learn a few things about success and failure.

Because it happens that you can pour all your love into something, and fail miserably, epically,

publicly.

But if you know you can start again…

When I really know that something unbelievable could show up, in fact, probably will, if I just start again. Well

The real reason that ‘resting on our laurals’ or overthinking failure is problematic is the paralyzing fear it can cause.

I poured my self into my Beatrix picture book project. So much time and love, and utter consumption; I struggled for actual years over the possibility of failure.

In my heart, I know its a solid project, but the publishing world loomed scarily, my letter writing skills lacking…

Then

I did something that surprised me.

I started again. I came at the monster from a completely different angle. An angle I hadn’t thought of before.

I learned. I grew. I did what felt impossible only a few weeks ago.

Knowing you can start again.

Overcoming the crazy fear of starting again.

Knowing how to GET yourself to start again.

Actually starting again.

That is the answer.

(I have sent six submission letters. Six!)

I’ve been circling this querying process for a little while.

I’m not unfamiliar with most of it. I’ve attempted writing a query letter (several actually). I’ve researched agents. I’ve participated in workshops. I even signed up for the query tracker app.

I have had many thoughts and several conversations about publishing. Both traditional and self and even managed the Amazon KDP thing.

Tradional publishing is a long shot.

Even worse, it feels tedious and time consuming to research agents and fit a query letter to their very specific specifications. I have abandoned my efforts part way in, over and over again for no other reason than sheer intimidation. Blame it on my ADD, I have yet to complete this whole process!

Its very much a maze that I haven’t figured out yet. Find an agent who is open to picture books who isn’t closed to submissions, who I can find on the app, who accepts emails and attachments, but likely prefers sample spreads pasted in the body of a very limited word count email. My clerical and tech skills are always challenged.

The main warning you hear is: don’t get anything wrong. Prefection shows you did your research. anything less than perfection becomes trash. Agents are very busy and don’t have time to bother with writers who can’t follow directions.

Uh.

Is direction-following in my DNA?

I know people do this. It doesn’t even sound hard…but…well

I decided to attempt some low stakes practice. I wrote a picture book, story boarded it into the right amount of spreads and edited it down to under 600 words.

For whatever reason, throwing the manuscript I spent years working on, to the wolves of what sounds like impossible odds, is harder than floating this one I tossed off in one day.

So here goes nothing. According to research, my story about an octopus who is appreciative and curious has the right arch and the right beginning, middle and ending to fit traditional publishing.

Now lets see if I can follow through and complete the maze…

I also crashed this abstract figure drawing class.

I have been doing a little painting in between all the busy-ness of being here in in California. Smaller canvases.

Its funny how I sometimes stumble into things. (as if some unseen force knows me better than I know me)…

I randomly wound up in a class about color theory.

I have many reasons why NOT to go to a class about the color wheel. Luckily, I didn’t think, I just went.

And it was fun. Helpful.

After all these years in the business of art, I still need the reminder that this is who I am. There are days when I forget. At younger ages, I often gave up art. Decided to try something else, only to be dragged back by some serendipitous encounter. My first college major was not art. I have rebelled against my own nature often enough over the years.

Still, I’m open for a session where we are there to just paint.

Some days, I guess I’m meant to be painting…

My ankle feels better also. Probably from resting it. Quiet moments with paint, I’ll try to remember…

I have many things I’m working on at the moment, which I like. When I’m busy, I’m pretty happy.

As an artist, it’s important for me, to have at least one thing I’m working on that is my own.

After time off of this particular project, I decided to circle back. It happens. There are times I’ve nearly given up on something only to revisit it with fresh eyes, a new perspective and a jump in motivation. My first book is a good example. Many parts of getting it to completion were things I didnt know how to do. Lots of those things were hard and technical and I needed help with. When I came back, I was more ready to do the hard things.

So it is with this book. I worked so hard on making it into a perfect PDF. Its formatted, spelling and punctuation are flawless. The spreads all work and flow. But now I have to pour my efforts into query letters and selling. You know, the hard part.

I once heard an interview with a famous author who said she knew her book was good, she knew it would sell, but she also knew the hardest part would be to get it published. Several rejections later, which everyone knows is typical, she was right.

Page count, word count, hooks and precision. Here we go…

The story without cover or notes is 32 pages. Thats the right amount, but I have much to work on. So much.

for hours already this morning. I never know when a flow state is going to hijack me.

No complaints here.

I suddenly realized my feet are cold, actually I’m suddenly aware of my whole body feeling cold, probably a good idea to get dressed and have a hot cup of coffee.

This full body lack of awareness is a weird artistic super power. Drifting into this state is sheer brain peace. Its hard to describe, but trust me, it feels like a connectedness to a easier relm.

Its not cold outside. There is a Santa Ana today in California so I might just sit outside and warm up. Funny to be brought back by the sensation of cold on this spectacular morning.

When I bump out, its back to the cold ‘real’ world. Only. Which one is really ‘real’? What is truly cold? Checking the clock, its been three hours?

I’ve been thinking about peace again lately. This, not surprisingly, has once again worked its way into being a central theme for my paintings. These days when unpeaceful thoughts or conversations cross my path, my new habit is to look inward. And then like a subconscious nudge from I guess myself, it flows out onto paper or canvas. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I kind of enjoy that I am (surprised). as I generally would not have the conscious thought “Today I think I will paint a hand.” but this morning an open hand found its way into my painting, it kinda became my painting and I love it.

Its such a gesture of love and openness and gentle nurturing. I appreciate the little reminder that we are all more than what we think we are. We are powerful in deeper ways. Love is the strongest vibration. Love is safety and peace. Nurturance. It might be the perfect way to feel peace. Prehaps we could all enjoy a little nurturing now and again. I might offer that to myself since, well, I painted it…

Sometimes these prompts are funny.

I am no authority

Just in case I come off as one…

I have no elevated snack advice.

I love popcorn and chocolate and pretzels especially those peanut butter filled ones, and nuts. Um

I wouldn’t describe myself as a regular snacker, even as a small child, I liked a meal. I had a wide pallet and always ran around so much that when suppertime came I was hungry. Plus I was one of those that drank from the hose and didn’t go home all day. You know THAT generation.

When I had my own children, there was a lot of inbetween meal eating, I felt like I was always either making food or cleaning up after. I was a vegetarian for a couple of decades and definitely felt hungry more often. So in those days, I made a lot of bread and biscuits and healthy cookies, tofu-pudding etc…yeah. Don’t worry, I relaxed my health-kicky snack making when they were teenagers. (but we can all appreciate the horrors of being the brown bread hippie family)

My adult kids still chide me about our 90’s version of health foods, but what can I say, I was doing the best I could, homemade granola by the feed bag and all, whatever, it was an era🤷

These days I don’t seem to have the same need for snacks. If I slow down during the day, I love my hot tea and heavy cream, which I know, is not a snack, and I’m not recommending, because ginger tea is (I’ve been told) NOT a crowd favorite! Nor is warm coffee or really any warm drink. Off trend. So Sorry ice coffee friends, I might be still in the dark ages, and by today’s standards, a lousy snacker, but I think we can (mostly) all agree on chocolate ?!

I had to think about this one.

I looked up the definition and origin of the word. It sounds serious.

If you are on a mission you are going forward, you are focused on an outcome, you eliminate distractions, completion of the goal IS the goal.

Im not sure I have the personality…

When I was fifteen my family joined a religion that required all young men and any girls who turned twenty-one before getting married to serve a ‘mission’. The objective was for these young people to dedicate two years to preaching and sharing this church’s teachings with the world, thus baptizing new members in different countries.

When I learned of this, I was self aware enough, (at sixteen), to know that I was not cut out for any of that. I, having spent none of my life wanting to be married, actually rebelling against it and not being the least bit interested in any domestic duties, decided of the two, marriage was my only option. The church was a force, and so were my parents who bought into it completely.

Truth was, I wasnt cut out for either option, but someone else’s mission?

I was sure that wasn’t me.

So what about a personal mission?

Still.

I know there are enough people out there executing life with precision, completing missions left and right. I have only the utmost admiration for them. I tried for years to be one. I am no David Goggins. I know me.

If I had a purpose, it would be something like, remind myself that there is joy, there is laughter, there is fun. That self regulation is possible always, that everyone is going to be and do life their own way, that I can always return to a peaceful state internally. I can absolutely affect my own state no matter what happens. We all have this power, I’ve been lucky enough to have had to practice it.

A

lot.

I want my mission to be: get ‘Beatrix Butterfly’ published.

So a handful of kids can grow up knowing this power. I think it can fortify everyone. Self regulation is a superpower anyone can benefit from.

Beatrix sweetly teaches this.

Not really a mission

Joy probably doesn’t count either.

I stand by the usefulness of knowing how to self regulate.

It might come in handy if you happen to be on a mission.

Some days ought to be celebrated. Often they are ordinary, unplanned and not even exciting. A regular day. Just randomly perfect.

I dont even want to explain why or how. If I could put something on a billboard, it would be that, because too many days like this have probably passed by me uncaptured, unrecorded. They may be lost in my memories because nothing dramtic anchored them.

A billboard can send out a remonder. Hopefilly I’ll pass it often and remember. For no one reason, today was the best.