To be more precise, it has been Word-Love centric. I see people using my art as creativity prompts. This bowl is a grand example of a wide variety of prompt possibilities. I want people to interact with my art, not just set it on a shelf or on a wall, but to befriend it and allow it to impact their day-to-day life.
I am deeply in love with words, with writing, with poetry, with the experiences that come from writing. The divine feeling in my chest from listening to poetry, from sitting quietly waiting for the words to arrive to match the experience.
I want my art to inspire writers-who-wait: those people who long to write who have not yet found the words or for writers who are temporarily finding words to be elusive.
This bowl is an example of Word Love Art. There is a lot underneath it ~ lots of content and meaning in the words in the bowl. Some are random, some are not random and some are not random. Last week I took the bwol with me to Dagny's and worked on it there, inviting others to create with me.
Here is a photo of Halli, a dear friend who I directed in "Five Women Wearing the Same Dress".
Later this week I will post more of my art I am working on for First Friday, where I will be showing my Word Love Art and promoting upcoming Writing Camps.
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This story may seem foolish when you read it. So be it. It felt important to tell so I am here, telling it.
I realized after I experienced it I had to write it for several reasons. One reason includes my friend, Jennifer Louden. I have been a fan of Jen's for years with the genesis being my pregnancy with Samuel. I was alone with a wooops pregnancy at 39 years old. Who does that? Beyond that, I had a life coaching and personal development business I was growing, two daughters I was raising and this unexpected pregnancy was not what I had hoped or planned for like I maniacally planned for my daughters.
Normally I read voraciously on the subject: I was reading about childbirth three years before I even managed to get pregnant for the first time. To say I love the topic is an understatement and it is indicative of how I choose to invest my life. I love this gift of breath I have been given, all of it, and behave accordingly. I bought Jen's book, "The Pregnant Woman's Comfort Guide" because I couldn't stand the other chirpy or clinical books I found on the shelves at my local book store.
Jen's words reached out to me like a sane, familiar friend and it has been that way ever since.
Now she is intensely and passionately devoted to saving and savoring this precious world we share and this morning's story is primarily about how it is in the small ways we choose to live we can each contribute to shifting the world into a place of savoring and a place ripe for transformation rather than destruction.
Samuel, that same baby Jen helped me with more than ten years ago, has had a tough school year and since he changed schools recently we have had breakfast daily at a restaurant near our home. This morning I went to refill my drink and saw a daddy long legs spider was dancing around the drink fountain. I went to the counter and said, softly, "There is a daddy long legs on your drinking fountain."
I walked back to the daddy long legs and apologized for what I had to do. "I am sorry about being a part of your sacrifice," I told him, not caring whether he understood or not, it felt like an important part of the process.
The restaurant worker said, "Oh, yeah, he's going to have to go". It is the "What's next" that surprised me.
She grabbed a napkin not to smash him but to offer him transport to the safety of the outdoors. Gently she lifted him and Samuel and I held the doors open in a sort of "Save the Spider" ceremony and the worker plopped him into a bush along the perimeter of the restaurant where he might find other daddy-long-legs friends. She smiled up and me and shrugged. " Hope filled her lifted shoulders and eyes as it did mine.
Why is this significant?
This is one of the ways serving and savoring begins.
It isn't in the automatic destruction of something that might be deemed embarrassing or out-of-place, it is in taking the time to approach it differently and then matter-of-factly and with devotion taking care of whatever situation arises.
The scenario could have been much different. I could have walked around telling other customers, "there is a daddy-long-legs in the drinking area. These people don't care about the customers. I'm calling the department of health!" and then screamed at the staff about the situation.
I could have gone to the counter and yelled at the staff, insisting on speaking to a manager about the disgusting insect by the drinking area.
I could have sneered at the staff and called them incapable and moronic.
I could have ordered the staff to kill the daddy-long-legs on sight.
I could have killed the daddy long legs and called it done.
Instead, compassion ruled the day. I quietly gave the factual information to the staff.
I quietly spoke my sorrow to an insect that conventional wisdom says wouldn't have any idea what was happening.
The staff had a soul understanding of my compassion and acted accordingly.
As I drove off, I heard her explaining it to her manager by retelling the entire story. I smiled and waved.
I feel like it was an all-around "Job well done."
We all felt satisfied with our exchange.
And this is how it happens: one quiet, compassionate, love directed action at a time.
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I am working on a series of Word-Love Works of Art, primarily using Upcycling as my "medium" if you could call it that. Out of the blue today I started working on my cobalt blue bowl and then my cobalt poetry duck begged for attention so I gladly gave it some.
I love combining my love of words into art ~ so it may be functional for the next creative person who experiences it.
I see them as creativity prompts in the form of art.
I use them and think others would surely benefit in the same way. What a fun thought: a best-seller prompted by random words or phrases from my Word-Love art. Yes, I will hold onto that... loosely.
Happy Writing, Painting, Reflecting and Rejuvenating!
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These are some lines from my stream-of consciousness, morning pages writing today.
"Yesterday's creativity hangs from my bent knees, my shoulders slouched over the notebook urging my hand to paint more stories on the page."
I literally could not write anymore then so after dropping Samuel at school, I attempted to write again at home. Very little bubbled up.
Across the street my neighbor's yard waits, only half of the wide lawn shorn. I think the eldest brother told me the boys each mow a portion of the yard. I wonder if the parents have disciplined the unruly brother, giving the foundation of the punishment on making the family look bad to the rest of the neighbors. I like it, actually. Unconventionality works for me.
A grandpa looking man pushing a khaki colored stroller sings a few lines of a love song as he makes his way down Alta Vista Drive. he has no idea he has an audience other than the baby he takes for a mid-morning ride.
Meet my cast mates for this week-end's production of Dear Harvey.
I can not recall feeling this wiped out post-performance, but then again I have never had quite such a marathon. Four times through the "Dear Harvey" script, including a very bumpy for me dress rehearsal and then two performances. This show and this message are important to me. This is my second time performing in it. Like the Vagina Monologues, I will continue creating this art for the cause of opening people's eyes and hearts. It is the most important art I can create.
My head is bending and I will turn the computer off in a moment.
"My eyelids droop as I watch Samuel inspecting each bite of pancake before putting it into his mouth."
Back to resting and quietly watching the world of my neighborhood stretch out.
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Today Jamie wonders...What do I wish to dream for today, tomorrow and the next, next, next day...
My overall dream wish is for increase. Simple, I dream-wish to add to the increase for myself and for others in all of life. I dream-wish for more readers, more people sharing my work, more readers of my words, more people sharing my work and taking passionate action from what they read from me, more readers. ^giggles, yes, I wish for more readers....^
My full moon dream board yesterday included a well worn story of mine. Yes, yes yes to accepting my role as Pied Piper and in fact, I wish to come alongside people as we increase the number of people who join this adventure... laughing, dancing, singing, story-telling, sharing poetry, writing abundantly, becoming passionately alive....
I am preparing now for the Fall, when all my children will be safely tucked away at school and I will have more time freedom again to intensify my creative efforts and increase my presence as a voice ~ and help others to flex their voices, to raise the levels of their passionate aliveness, to step into their "what's next" with courage, with hope, with open arms and heart.
I wish to dream to be a part of the personalized gold rush for an increased number of people, that personal (not cookie cutter) gold rush, not someone else's riches, but personal gold rush experiences. (Again, if you are curious, check out my Full Moon Dreamboard post from yesterday.) Messy, sometimes frustrating, often delightful, never without inspiration. I wish for an increased number of people to feel what this felt like, when I leaped into the freezing cold, rushing river wearing a gorgeous dress... uncaring just know I was supposed to... I wish for others to feel that increase in daring, risky "no one else is willing to do this and I am" moments... I wish for increase...
I wish to dream of increased abondanza ~ otherwise known as increased abundance.I wish to dream of increase...
For you, for me, for her and him and them. I wish to dream of increased abundance for the bus driver, the restaurant server, the Mom of two preschoolers, the physics professor, for those of you reading here who wish to write and have niggling fear, nipping at your fingers.
I wish to dream for abondanza love for each and all of us.
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I started this Full Moon Dreamboard as lead by the lovely Jamie Ridler Process day before yesterday and as always, find my delight most strongly in allowing whatever it is that shows up to point the way to my dreams rather than me trying to constrain it or manipulate it or "have my way" with it.
My images are a direct result of a slow, intentional process of decluttering. My friend, Susan Jones, leads a Conversations on Juicy Spaces teleconference each Wednesday and while I am not always able to attend, last Wednesday I did. I wasn't expecting this particular magic to happen, but one never knows when one accepts divine calls like this. I didn't want to be wishy-washy with my action, I wanted to be playful~fun~and~especially~non~judgmental.
"I will do a 27 fling boogie every day this week," I offered, thus giving my decluttering a safe container. "Plus I will offer a singing meditation-chant of 'love' as I declutter."
The 27 fling boogie is a technique from Flylady, I explained. It is a practice of quickly and without overthinking flinging 27 items into a bag and then taking the bag to the trash or recycling or to goodwill right away, thus clearing space in your house and getting rid of the lament of "should I keep this pair of shoes from ten years ago because I might want to wear them to next year's cookie exchange if I wear this particular shade of green on a shirt I might find on sale at Macy's."
I have been making daily trips to my trashcan with old papers and broken things and to goodwill with things other people might find useful.
What I didn't expect was to find so many things that I had declared, "Missing" - including a Norman Rockwell book thrift store find from years ago and an envelope with some seemingly random photos I had taken that became the central-dream-leaping-off point for this month's full moon dream board.
(I am writing because I am giggling. I hadn't scrolled back to find Jamie Ridler's intention-framing questions for this board, which she lovingly posts at the New Moon, so I am delighted at the synchronicity that flowed from my writing without even recognizing the powers within this Full Flower Moon. The questions Jamie suggests on her blog are:
Who are you when you are in full flower?
What exudes from your personality?
What’s possible for full-flower you?
What colours shine?
What dreams flow freely?
What pours out of your heart and into the world?"
Today's morning pages covered my dreamboard with kisses in a miraculous "bringing it all together." Here is what flowed from my pen onto the page earlier today with a brief note of the word "homing" being like the homing pigeon, finding my way home:
"On the road to further discovery. I love this new schedule I am on. Reading, writing, resting, praying, homing.
"Drizzle falls, plumping itself over the car, the street, the lawn, perhaps forcing more mulberries from the tree branches.
"I notice the map. People want to know this map ~ but actually, they're hungry for the experiences on their own map, not just to drive along the thin line from point A to point B and not just to hear of my adventures outside the lines of point A to point B, but to know, intimately, the points of departure... the getting lost and refinding themselves, the smell of the rain there, the crackle of the leaves under their feet, the surprising discoveries at each wrong turn.
"Throwing spaghetti. I am meant to throw spaghetti this month. This map is a map I followed to visit Gold Country in 2008, before I explored it intimately this year, 2011. That year, I just drove through. This year, I dove in and found my own gold, not content to accept other people's gold experiences.
"That's it. A class. Offer a class. for people. The Roadmap to Your Personal Goldrush."
I looked at the photo of my hand, writing. I looked at the women in the photos and images, reading, their eyes hungry for the words. I see the diverse faces, praying, hoping, intending. Writing, doodling, soul reflection. Very cool as I feel myself loving the flying by the seat of my pants, loving the realization that this is what I do best: free falling and Pied Pipering. My forte.
Oh, this is so funny. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!"
I wrote a blog post yesterday about the woman in the black and white portrait you see here. She found her way above the shoulders of my friend, Jessica, who was lying topless in a field of wildflowers a couple years ago. Yesterday when I intuitively prepared the photos I left only a smidge of Jessie's face and now I knew why: so my everywoman photo could be plugged in their. My woman who asked me to be still. We, as women, need to learn that skill of stillness, of lying topless in the field of wildflowers and trust other women to come alongside and document and reflect love back.
More personal goldrush, yes, indeed.
Wow. Now there is a powerful, intimate experience.
And yes, I am going to teach that teleclass my dreamboard created for me. I haven't written it up yet, but I know it will be next Tuesday at 10:00 AM Pacific (which is 1 PM Eastern) and it will be free. Be watching my twitter-feed if you are interested in experiencing your personal map in your personal gold rush.
I'm going to continue to dive into the questions offered and see what more they have to tell.
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I was reminded today that writing is listening as much as it is the act of moving fingers on the keyboard or moving a pen across the page.I was pulling images for my dreamboard from an old book. I wasn't looking for anything in specific, so when the black and white portrait fell out into my hands, I knew it was meant to be included. Her eyes are smiling into mine now: fresh, open, light colored eyes and darkly painted lips. Her hair carefully put together and an enormous silvery dragonfly is pinned to her chest, sticking out against the darkness of the blazer she wears over her straight necklined top or dress.
"What is it you need to hear from me," I ask her. My question immediately disappears when my overzealous ring finger touches the wrong key.
Perhaps that isn't the question to be lived through my writing today.
"What is it you need to tell me?" I ask her, the anonymous woman from the past who had been living within the front matter of this thrift-store bought book for who knows how many years.
The keyboard gets silent as I look into her face and notice her.
Very feminine hairline, slightly full hair, not quite light blonde but I would never describe it as "dirty blonde."
The role in her hair is so distinct: I imagine her creating this hairstyle with ultra focus, wanting to get it right, knowing this portrait would be taken, knowing she wanted to be remembered for being a pretty girl, a careful girl, a girl who did her family proud.
I wonder what happened next?
I remember I am to settle in and listen, to stop asking questions. To listen, actively. To note, to witness to take down what is offered without question or hesitation.
Don't waste moments in worrying about what is done or undone, do what is in front of you and stay centered in where you are meant to be. Everything takes care of itself. Don't buy into the fear-culture we are raised in and we have, too often, raised our children in as well. Listen to what I am saying and to what other people are trying to tell you. Settle into the moment at hand as it appears. Breathe more deeply. Look at people softly.
I wanted to google the dragonfly. I didn't want to sit or be still or attempt to listen to a voice I would never hear in the conventional sense. I wanted to get the "right" answer to why my new friend wears a dragonfly only I know from this era photo she didn't have the internet to turn to when she wanted answers.
I decided on a second best solution: take a shower and listen in there.
I stood in the shower and felt the warmth of the water as it washed over me. I smelled the lather of the soap, I noticed how it felt slippery and bubbly against my skin. I took note of the way my skin felt different on my forearm than it did on my belly. I noticed my ankle as it supported me. I said a prayer of gratitude for my foot.
I remembered about listening and giving space for people to be heard: all people, not only the people we want to hear.
I thought about clear communication and how exciting it felt when pieces come together as we expect and how unsettling it is when the pieces don't come together the way we expect yet later, in retrospect, the gift is oftentimes so much greater due to the pieces shifting and turning and different solutions showing us their faces filled with light, astonishment and wonder.
The reality of me ever knowing the "what came next" for this one blue eyed, sweetly coiffed young woman from many decades ago is remote.
The reality of crafting the "what comes next" for me and my children and the people whose paths cross mine is clearly divine, clearly extraordinary and clearly waiting for me to take my place.
"Does any of this make sense?" I wonder, reaching out in words to the you who is listening as you read.
Is it all metaphorical, mystical gobbledy gook or is there, at its core, a message for you and for your next door neighbor and your brother's wife and for the UPS delivery person who just left two packages from Amazon.com on your doorstep?
I remember I am to settle in and listen, to stop asking questions. To listen, actively. To note, to witness, to take down what is offered without question or hesitation.
The other night I sat backstage, waiting for my next entrance in "Stage Door." My friend and castmate whispered to me, "May I ask you a favor?" and proceeded to whisper to me about a current, challenging situation. In the middle of the story, I had a cue so I leaped on stage, did my thing, came back to her and listened some more. She never got to anything that felt remotely worthy of requesting a favor.
When we moved to a different section of the theater, she asked me for listening. That is all I did: listen. I didn't offer advice, I didn't secretly coach her, peeling away layers for insights, I simply listened to her tell her story. I listened with compassion, I listened because I wanted to listen and I listened because she is a woman who needed to be listened to at the precise moment I was conveniently near so that I could relate this story back to you.
Don't waste moments in worrying about what is done or undone, do what is in front of you and stay centered in where you are meant to be
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Today my morning pages came after wandering around the house gathering materials, like old, weathered quotes and prompts that are like trusty friends you know will have you over for dinner and a pleasant, no judgment and no questions asked chat after a long day at work.
My blood was sludgy, which for me means I am teetering close to depression. The apron I tied around my waist was flecked with grey-blue malaise. I sat at my desk, expecting nothing.
I turned to this quote from Harriet Doerr, an American author wh published her first novel at age 74.
"I have everything I need. A square of sky, a piece of stone, a page, a pen, and memory raining down on me in sleeves."
I used her opening as a way to check in and see if I, like Harriet, possessed everything I need to create compelling writing.
:I have everything I need: a desk, my porch, my cup of coffee, friends to support me, flowers to inhale, a llasa apso to walk. I have book-friends to turn toward and open if I need them. I have images to write that roll up my street, amble down my street, provide me with any illustration my writing might need. My neighbor's sprinkler become a metaphor or an onomatopoeia: diamonds in the sky, a snakes hiss, a childhood memory, the end of a parched Summer.
Just like that, the malaise fell away, as if the movement of pen across the paper was a cool, refreshing shower. I do have everything I need.
And more, actually. I have so much more than I need.
What about you?
Borrow the words and intention from Harriet and me.
Start with "I have everything I need..." and let your pencil float across the page. Lift your head to see what is around you, tile your head so your ear may hear. Inhale deeply to notice the scents flirting with the images they want to offer the page in front of you.
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I got excited when I saw this wishcasting prompt at Jamie Ridler's Studio and then I got nervous.
Would my wishcasting community oust me if I pulled out my soapbox and let it be known that I am an activist/rebel/rabble rouser?
Well, with a question like this I can't help it. I is time to take off the mask you may have grown accustomed to seeing covering the fact I am a strong advocate for certain issues ~ primarily along the themes of equality and especially along the themes of speaking up for equality for those who are unable to speak or who are afraid to speak or who don't know they can speak... so they stay silent.
History is not kind to the rabble-rousers, even though often times it is revolutionary thinkers (and those who take action) who change the world. I follow a more Gandhi-esque or feminine or "new paradigm" approach and am shocked to see Merriam Webster proclaims Rabble-Rousers to be ": one that stirs up (as to hatred or violence) the masses of the people : demagogue".
Is/was Rosa Parks a rabble rouser? Heck, yeah. Was she violent? Heck, no. Did she take a stand? Yes, ma'am. Did her work impact the world? You betcha!
If I didn't continue to take a stand for equality in education for the uniquely minded of those among us, if I didn't continue to open minds to the rich history of women in this world, I shudder to think how much mediocrity and status quo would continue. It only takes one person to open the floodgates. People primarily don't even know to know... that may not make sense but think about it: until someone shines a light in the darkness, no one can see.
I wish to take my equality flashlight and shine it, brightly and gently; consciously awake and with insistent nudging. The time is here.
This weekend my thirteen-year-old daughter, Emma, said "I'm like my Mom. I take my soapbox out and I stand on it, proudly."
I take my children to protests. We have heated discussions where I allow (and encourage opposing) thoughts, opinions and ideas.
I wish to take a stand for equality. I wish to take a stand to offer my voice (and willingness to speak out) for those who are unable or are afraid.
What do you wish to take a stand for today (and everyday)?
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If you participated in Reverb 10 during December of last year, are any of the things you wanted to manifest in 2011 revealing themselves? - May Prompt, #reverb11
I read the Reverb prompt back when it first came out I kept telling myself "I will write it, I will get there, I would get to it"... and on and on and on.
Today I read through many of my Reverb10 blog posts and realized, wow, I have made boatloads of progress toward manifesting what I wanted to manifest. Things I had completely forgotten writing about kabong, they have happened!
Things like "meaningful curtain calls" ~ those are all I have had. Even in my current show, "Stage Door" for which I had zero expectations going in, I am getting kudos from audience members as they leave. Completely unexpected. Probably the best "curtain call" was a comment from my "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" director when he said three simple words to me after watching the closing night performance.
He said, "You destroyed me." Wild contentment.
I have also received wild applause after poetry performances. I continue to step onto the edge there and oh, how I love it.
I also wanted to manifest connections - again meaningful connections, not just another shallow sort of friend or two. I have done and will continue with this one. Shallowness has hit the road. The only relationships I want to continue are those of depth and richness. Those that continue to linger need to be due to mutuality.
I said I wanted to finish a book. Now, I have content for several books sitting, waiting to be organized. I could cause personal harm from all the weight I put on my shoulders over this but instead, I wrote a poem length book in one day called "Upper La Cresta Sojourn" along the lines of Bernadette Mayer's Mid Winter Day. I wrote it in March and because of this post, I am vowing to get the edits done by the end of May.
I did it and will do it.
I also wrote of Writing Camp and taking it on the road. I have done that and will continue to do that. I have also developed some one-on-one writing adventures which have been fabulous, which has reminded me to recommit to my creativity coaching practice. This year I have taught in schools and hospitals, too. Things are just clickety clacketing along.
I can't wait to discover what I have manifested yet. Stay tuned, beloved Reverb11 folks. Stay tuned!
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