Oh I’ve changed! Yep I have. Even over this past year. For one thing, I’m a writer now.
I’m learning to live a life I want to live, to be who I am and like it. I’m learning that it is not about circumstances. Its not any of the things that I wish for that make happiness happen or possible. I’m learning to hold out for surprises. To be patient as solutions arise. To stay open to possibilities. I am finally, at long last, surrendering to my path, and all it’s unexpected twists and turns I used to think weren’t right or shouldn’t be part of it. I’m learning to just step out into the unknown and not care what anyone says or thinks.
2023 has been surprising in so many ways. I guess that’s what keeps life interesting . The unknown. The unpredictable. Being new. Being a beginner.
I heard this today: “In the mind of a beginner there are many possibilities, in the mind of an expert there are few. To none.” Im grateful tonight for not knowing too much. I’m grateful I ended this year by doing something new and different and I’m grateful to be starting this next Year with a trip back to California.
I’m grateful for Lakshmi and her steady flutter of petal like possibilities raining down on me and swirling like a thick blizzard of hopefulness all around me all of the time. I’m grateful for an entirely transformative year. Write a book about a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly and why wouldn’t my life transform as well?
I would not have planned to be here. I would not have put this chapter in my book about me, but you know what? I’m thankful it came about. I’m thankful for all of it.
Happy New Year, my friends, thanks for being out there, allowing me to share.
Today at yoga, Megan our instructor, told us about the goddess Lakshmi who is the goddess of possibility and fortune. Apparently she is for not only for material riches, but spiritual riches as well. She rides on a white owl and sprinkles out flower petal like blessings as she flies over head. I picture something like that golden buzzer moment on America’s Got Talent. Why have I never heard this story before? We did a whole yoga practice dedicated to Lakshmi, complete with owl poses and letting go of resistance poses and even surrendering to our own path poses. I love this idea. I love a good metaphor. I always love a story with a point.
Megan closed the class with the suggestion to allow ourselves to let go of all resistance, to open up to all possibilities and to surrender to our path. The last part stuck with me. I have been in this free fall for a little while now. I am learning every day how to surrender. It occurred to me that what I’m surrendering to is actually just my own path.
That seemed a little funny. I am living so entirely on everyone else’s agenda these days. Im not suggesting I didnt agree. I did sign up for all of it, but it has felt like someone else’s life. So not mine.
Is the joke on me that this IS my life. This is what I’m doing. This. All of it. Right now I’m writing children’s books in New England while supporting my husband as he helps out aging parents with a barage of age related medical issues. That, my friends, is my path.
I’m going to open my hands and let go. Let the possibilities rain down on me. Stop resisting what is. Have at it Lakshmi, I’m ready!
It’s interesting that the energy changed again. Things started falling into place in many surprisingly good ways. (before and after yoga). Life can be so unpredictable. I guess why NOT surrender? It’s not like I have much control anyway. This is it. This is my path. Twist, turns and all the craziness. Fun and adventure factored in.
I have to think surrendering has a little bit of embracing in it. Maybe that’s my own swing. If lm going to surrender, I’m going to find ways to like it. I am absolutely going to make the very best of this stretch of the road, because, well, apparently it is MY path.
You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?
I guess I kind of built mine. It’s in the attic over the garage where no one ever goes. I can hide up there for hours and work or read. It has a good view of the ocean. It’s cozy. Even with a tiny heater and sometimes maybe an extra thick coat, I’m comfortable. I have those fingerless gloves…
I refinished a table we found at a historical society flea market. I sanded it to buttery smoothness and wax/oiled the natural color wood. I found a white chair also.
It’s a simple space with very little besides my computer, iPad and a few art supplies. I arranged boxes so you don’t see the few things stored up there. Oh and one card table covered to the floor by a cotton drop cloth extends my table and gives me a painting zone. I have an electric kettle for tea and some healthy snacks. The sun streams in through two good size windows. I also have a good light for when it starts getting dark. Lately, that’s around 3 pm.
I LOVE this little space. When I was first putting it together, I was inspired by the scene from Little Women where Jo sits up late at night writing at her own attic window desk. I even decorated for Christmas feeling that civil war era vibe. I found actual holly with bright red berries growing and tons of ever green branches while out walking near a forest one day. A little store in town had beautiful vintage inspired ornaments at amazing prices. I got a handful for my birthday. Also my hundred year old bowl! Filled with organges of course.
This is where Peaceful Hearts became an ebook. Where Beatrix was formatted and edited. Where blog posts are written and edited. Though I write on the couch in the evenings with everyone watching TV or on long car rides. sometimes in little coffee shops, back in the summer on beaches. I write everywhere. With my new IPad drawing ap, I can draw and paint anywhere as well.
I do love my solitude though. I can’t say enough about uninterrupted all by myself time. My little writing and reading nook is a dream space. it keeps the magic and romance of being a real writer alive every day.
I have changed my mind about which car is my favorite over the years.
Lately, I’m loving my white jeep. I used to love my Honda Element before the catalectic converter was stollen and the air conditioning stopped working. That little car was the ultimate art mobile. I could fit large canvases, boxes of spray paint, huge amounts of chalk and other paints, brushes materials, signs, staging paraphernalia, etc. I loved that car.
But now I’m in love with my jeep. I used to want a white jeep when I was a teenager. Long after my 12 year old self stopped wanting a purple sparkly (like a 1970s boat) corvette. I went through a short Porsche crush before buying my own real cars.
When I was in Africa, I was convinced I needed a LandRover. They are the badass-get-you-over-the savanna-car of choice in Kenya. I can still hear our driver rambling on in Swahili and then saying ‘land-rover’ as clear as day.
I’m not the biggest car person. I can’t really tell a bmw sedan from an Imfinit unless I see the logo. In order for me to get excited about a car, it has to have some cool components. A good paint job will impress me. A cool exterior. An amazing sound system. I like it when the engine has that good sound. What do they call the low rumble that sounds powerful? That.
I have for as long as can I remember, been over the top creative. I had a brief teenage time of self rejection, when I thought it was my curse. I’ve raged against my right brainedness from time to time, since, but usually end up grateful for it. Sometimes I feel other people’s eye rolls, or their exasperation, but usually, I’m too busy reinventing some odd wheel in my over active brain, to be bothered to care.
Oh I have longed for the conventional. Why didn’t I get a brain that wanted to study to become a nurse or an accountant or something real and tangible. Something that makes sense and can be stated without explanation. ‘I’m an engineer, I’m a paralegal. I go to work and do this… wouldn’t I be better accepted and way more useful?
Well. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that there is no joy and certainly nothing to be gained by rejecting oneself or one’s personality (or brain). When I finally learned to embrace my way-outside- the-box- ness, I did find some peace. I’m very grateful for that peace because I do still wonder from time to time why I couldn’t be more of a balanced sort. Like an employee with a creative hobby…
Getting back to the question of how am I creative? HOW am I creative? How AM I creativitve? How am I CREATIVE?
I guess it starts before I open my eyes each morning. I go over what I’m grateful for and that gets me thinking of my latest projects. I start turning them over in my mind, thinking of improvements, exploring possibilities…
This turns into planning my day. What will I include? What am I excited about? What possibilities are there for me? What do I want to do to get my juices flowing? What am I feeling inspired by? Do I need more inspiration? Do I need more information? Creativity is like a fire. It starts with a tiny spark that needs to be fed. To keep a fire going it needs to be tended. If I let it die, I need only to start again and with a new spark. Sometimes things move me to tears, that’s what inspiration feels like to me. It’s a strong feeling of love or devotion that makes me feel deeply and then drives me to act and make something. Hence create. It’s such a familiar natural process that I’m struggling to find words to describe it. That strong woosh of inspiration like a full force wind is impossible to ignore, and I don’t want to! Fanning the flame, getting down to work is the harder part. Nothing comes out like the perfection in my head. I often put on music to cancel out the noise of criticism. (my own!) and pick my way forward.
Being creative is not always as fun and easy as some people think. There is real labor involved and often it’s a lengthy process. Hemingway once said something about writing like, you just sit down at the typewriter and open a vein. ( I think he meant a literal blood vessel) Many of the varibles aren’t known and some haven’t been invented yet. None of this can be over thought, because it’s easy to give up. Finding FLOW is the aim. That sweet spot where time falls away and I’m in a full mind/body meld with my project.
I have many tricks to fan the fire of flow. As an artist you know the importance of flow. It commands its own reverence because it feels like a collaboration with something much bigger, smarter, better than I myself could ever hope to be. It’s the closest thing to bumping up against the devine that I know. But it’s often in the form of tiny surprises or minute surety in a stroke or several strokes. It’s what lives on in art. The energy you might feel when you connect with a piece of art. It’s what gives me the confidence and motivation to keep going with something. I can’t unremember how words fell together or paintings painted themselves. It feels significant even if no one else ‘sees’ or ‘likes’ what I do. Thank literal God for not leaving me alone to shoulder the responsibility of my creations.
I wish I was a brilliant song writer because how they explain the process of words just coming out of them is exactly how I would discribe creations coming out of me. I’ll never have anything on iTunes though sigh…
We had a perfect Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Perfect in the sense that our patient had two exceptionally good days in a row and was even transferred to a closer hospital. We got the impression that some slow improvements were occurring and thought we might steal some days and venture back to CA.
This was a short lived moment of optimism which has since evaporated into yet another crisis. How in the world is there something new again?
This is the nature of what we are here for. I am grateful for a few lovely days. The weather was mild. Our hospital visits were bookended with long walks in the sunshine. Our patient was sitting up, animated, and in very good spirits. We wore our fancy sweaters. We ate delicious food. We drove to see some light spectacles. We listened to music and even watched Its a Wonderful Life.
I often feel a let down after the holidays are over. I remember the feeling from my childhood. When the magical golden glow disappears and is replaced by the cold blue gray light of mornings after, my energy plummets and I even feel a little terrible from too much sugar.
I’ve kept up my yoga and walks. I’ve continued with my morning and nightly gratitude practice. I’ve meditated, I’ve breathed. I’ve done my best to eat in moderation and balance sweets. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not a total mess.
Still, post holiday is a thing and we all seem to be feeling it. I’m utterly grateful for the distraction of what makes the holidays fun. I’m thankful for the coziness. The pretty lights, the busy ness. I’m thankful for the fun of cooking some of my family’s traditional foods. I’m grateful for leftovers, which always seem to taste even better the next day. I’m grateful to have spent this Christmas in Halmark movie land. It was nice.
Restorative yoga. I bought a sweater. It was on sale and I had a gift card. The weather is foggy and rainy, so it felt like a caring gesture.
I feel the importance of self care. This is not the time to eat more indulgent food and be idle. This is a time I need to kick it up a little. Be extra kind to myself. Take time to be good to me in ways that I know will make a good difference tomorrow.
Another trip to the hospital and the word has changed back to optimistic. As darkness signals the end of another long day, I feel okay. The chill in the air, the drizzle of rain, are okay. Our patient is okay. When we left he was eating ice cream and waiting for the hockey game to start.
A lot happened. And then at the end, I was born. And misplaced…
I resurfaced toward the end of February. My parents took me in and later that next year, adopted me.
Those were my humble beginnings. Much was going on in music and in politics. It was a busy year. Weird that there is no record of where I was for most of three months.
I’m the most happy in the mornings. When I’m with people I love. When I’m doing something meaningful or fun. When I think about any of these things. Happiness is a state. It comes and goes. It can be influenced by events. It can be influenced by my own thoughts. I love bumping as much happiness into a day as I can. I would say that happy is a comfortable state for me. I dearly enjoy being happy.
I say this because I’ve seen the opposite. Haven’t we all been around people who prefer another state? It’s ok. Energy is energy. Nothing to judge, everyone is entitled to their preferences. Seriousness is important too.
In my life, Im grateful for every light smiley mood that comes along!
Probably the last time I had fun was with the kids. We always end up having some kind of fun together. Even when we are trying to calm down and wind down before bed. Kids know how to make anything fun. Even telling funny stories from their dads growing up years or mine.
A bean bag, a box of crayons, a stick. Games come out of nowhere and everywhere. One time I happened upon my son’s family at the beach. I was walking and had some extra time. Somehow the kids and I started pretending to be cavemen (people). There was a cave-like spot under the stairs. We built a pretend fire and pretend fished and pretended to invent sushi. We even found burnt wood and drew ‘cave paintings’. This game changed into pretend crossing the prairie in a covered wagon and getting cholera and rabies. Kids love tragedy and calamity. They love saving each other. We pretended some very elaborate storylines for years. Every time I saw the kids after that, they would all beg to play cave people.
I knew it wouldnt last forever, but the golden time of pretend play left me with some sweet fun memories.
We also used to play a version of tag they called Monster. We played this at the park for years. The person who is ‘it’ is the monster. As each person is tagged they also become monsters and help catch who ever is left. We often ended up with extra kids at the park playing too. It was always fun. Nothing like running around, up and through playground equipment to stir up some fun.
One time I read that you do everything for a first time and a last time. I thought about that one of the last times we played Monster. I knew my oldest was aging out of park play. Growing up is something everyone has to do. Necessary, inevitable, but a bit sad for this grandma.
Peace Kit 