I like to photograph my art pieces at the Panorama Bluffs. It is almost like praying for each piece as its form is complete.
My friend, Michelle, inspires me.
She blessed me recently with some canvases to use in my art work. These weren’t any canvases, though, they once belonged to her father, who passed away.
I knew I had to create something special on them, especially the first one.
When I was in Hollywood, I asked where her father’s apartment was and I sought it out. I wanted to get an idea visually as well as energetically what I should create in his honor. Looking at the colorful, uniquely decorated apartment buildings built closely together, I came up with the theme of “Neighbors” and created this mixed media abstract as a result.
It is different from everything else I have done. The book pages are familiar, but I love the narrow length of the canvas. It is now hanging above one of my repurposed ladders and some of my smaller word-love art pieces. When I look to the right from my desk it is what I see.
This is how "Neighbors" looks on my wall. Below are other mixed media pieces, including the origami dress in the middle, which is another current theme.
It is sort of like Michelle's Dad is being a muse to my creativity. I smile each time I see the"apartment buildings" in different languages and genres, all reflecting love and hope.
Thank you, Michelle, and thank you to her father and his partner as well. I feel so privileged to have met you.
*****
Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.
Thursday, September 5: Pass on some useful advice or information you
learned and always remembered.
One of the most horrible situations that cropped up in my
adult life came as a result of me making a snide comment about one friend “in
jest” that got reported to her by another friend. The one who I spoke off was
naturally hurt, but she was also a woman who “wasn’t going to let anyone get
away with saying that about her!” so at a meeting where all our mutual friends
were present, she stormed into the meeting and just lit into me, yelling about
how I was a “small person” and how she “took pity on me” and what a bad job I
did in general.
My then six-month-old-daughter Katherine was asleep in my
lap as I sat there, cross-legged on the living room floor.
I stayed there, same position, and didn’t argue back at all.
I replied things like, “I am very sorry, that is a stupid thing to have said.
You are right, I shouldn’t have done such a thing.” And “I am sorry you feel
that way,” and each time I didn’t get upset with her or argue back, her
ferocity deflated.
She left the room still seething and I imagine later the
telephone wires were buzzing with discussion over what happened, but I just
kept my cool.
Was I mortified? Was I embarrassed? Was I sorry for saying
something really stupid that I shouldn’t say, even and especially in jest? Yes.
Was I angry at whichever friend in that same room passed
along what I had said, No. I wasn’t. I basically took time to catch my breath,
picked up my metaphorical marbles and went home. My friends in that room stayed
my friends. There were no “sides” that I felt, even as some of them felt
compelled to recount the times she had talked behind my back about me.
I wanted to wash it all off. I was reminded then to be careful with words always. Check in with yourself and mentally ask, "Will this comment be constructive or potentially destructive?" If I had asked myself that simple question, that void between friends would not have happened. I never felt as easy-going with that particular group of friends ever again. The awkwardness and my sorrow were always there in small remnants, perhaps, but they were there.
The woman who I spoke unkindly of and who came into the room screaming at me eventually moved away. I saw her several times
before she did and we greeted each other not exactly warmly, but we didn’t
totally avoid one another.
My advice is this: don’t don’t don’t say mean things about
one friend to another, even in jest! Only say things to one friend about
another that you would say if the other friend was there and even then, think
twice about saying it. You are better off not saying it at all.
I can hear my son’s voice in my ear, “How would you feel if
that was you she said those things about?”
Follow along with the Blogtember Writing Challenge - click the badge to be connected.
I realize as I type this is a reminder to me as well as you.
I have been much more lax with myself lately.
The fewer words said, unless the words are authentic and
positive, the better.
My Mom said it to my sister over and over when we were kids, "Think before you speak!" Conscious thought before blurting whatever pops into your head will change your life drastically.
I hope you never find yourself getting publicly humiliated
by someone you thought was your friend.
= = = = =
Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and
mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday
on September 6 in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her
on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea
of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.
I got a text message at three o’clock this morning which I
didn’t notice until my alarm went off at 5:45. It was something about deception
in a he said/she said where is she I don’t know I’m trapped she said but I don’t
believe and on and on and on in a well worn pattern between a long unhappily married
couple.
It feels like one layer of sediment atop another atop
another atop another and there is so much swirling dust it never gets cleared,
it just piles another layer of dust where it wasn’t before.
I don’t understand the layers of deception.
I can’t tune into the accusations and the drilling into what
it is or isn’t.
It isn’t because I am saintly because I am not.
I just don’t know why there is so much investment in the
energy stream of someone who consistently tells untruths unless it is a mutual
whirlwind of lies and cover ups and swirling messes of sand crisscrossing each
other’s paths.
I look out the window and write a quick haiku of what I see:
Painted desert sky
Right outside my window pane
Bakersfield
morning
I am choosing to take this five minutes of writing to let it
go.
I pop a Hershey’s kiss I shouldn’t be eating into my mouth.
I take a gulp of coffee and look again at the sunrise which now doesn’t look so
much like the painted desert, it looks more like the threads on a pastel baby
blanket.
I’ll save that metaphor for tomorrow’s haiku and leave the swirling
sand of deception to others to bear.
This was a five minute stream of consciousness exercise written in community with others who also take five minutes to write on Tuesdays.
Click on the "Just Write" icon at the opening of the blog post above or here are a few more details for you from Heather, who started this writing adventure.
Please come and link up to Just Write
every Tuesday here at The Extraordinary Ordinary–tell your stories! It’s
best to do this whenever you’re struck with inspiration, so write at
any time and just save your post for Tuesday.
If you’re not a blogger, please still join us! Grab a notebook or a
new doc on your computer and Just Write! (If you ever want to share what
you’ve written with me, I’d love that! – heatheroftheeo @ gmail dot
com)
Where a flash mob of folks spend five minutes all writing on the same topic and then share ‘em at LisaJoBaker.com.
Words from my five minutes on....
STAY:
Stay.
My eyes fill with tears. Stay. I have been struggling for
the last roughly thirty hours. Do I stay or do I go? Do I forgive and build
again or do I say, “Enough is enough, you have proven repeatedly you will hurt
me over and over and over again. This has been my pattern and if I don’t stop
it now, with you, I am afraid I will never be able to stop it. What sort of a
model is this for my daughters?”
I think about forgiveness, all those number sevens. I think
about turning the other cheek but I think, I don’t have more than two cheeks
unless you start counting my butt and I really don’t want to be slapped on my
ass any more than absolutely necessary.
Stay.
I had said to myself after this five minute write was over,
I would take my sleep helper and lull myself to sleep alongside my children.
Send a quick “Goodnight” text and be done with it.
Stay.
How much compassion do I carry?
Does this mean I lay out the carpet of compassion and “let’s
be clear about our expectations and not waffle once we are absolutely certain
of causes and effects.”
I told him, “I can’t keep getting up and then getting
knocked down again. I just can’t do it.”
Stay.
What is God wanting me to “get” from all this?
Last night there were torrents of awful words pouring
through my thoughts. I couldn’t say the worst of them because they were too
risky to speak. I stayed silent. Stay. Silent?
Stay compassionate?
Stay forgiving?
Stay loving?
“Become a role model for my children in what exact way, God?
Would you help me out here, please?”
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking. 2. Link back here and invite others to join in. 3. And
then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the
person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.
Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this
community..
Julie Jordan Scott
has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator
and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award
winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother
Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam
champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS &
this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring
this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people
wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to
your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the
Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational
essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe
here now -
I had a very tough day yesterday starting at about 2:30 pm and yes, it is still continuing.
Before I go on about the visual art I created, I did write this lovely meditation on my blog about "Places Left Behind." You may visit it here (though please return to see the rest! or wait until you have read this to go back to the reading.)
I am so grateful I had a SoulCollage (TM) event to attend so I could retreat into quiet and contemplation. Without that island of time and creativity previously orchestrated, I don't know how I would have made it through.
My soul collage cards have several similar themes in this batch.
I only made three, which is a low number for me. I usually make six, but I was very slow - as is usual for me when I have had a shock or a burst of emotional pain.
This first card pays homage to Ophelia in Hamlet. She is the character I relate to in this card. See her, there? That little blue eyed girl in the water, looking up through the doorway while no one else notices?
I usually make my cards completely intuitively. Last night I was primarily intuitively, but I also had certain plans for composition. This one, with the large flowers, did not turn out as I wanted it to at all.
I wanted the orange head to be splayed open more, like in the Emily Dickinson quote,"If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry."
This isn't poetry, though, this is pain and me trying to avert it. That menacing man is representative of all the negative thoughts racing through my mind and the flowers are the Pollyanna thoughts I always tend to replace the negative thoughts with rather than integrating the ouchy thoughts into something better.
Here I acknowledge I am working on releasing those menacing thoughts, not willing myself to pretend them away and lacquer them with Georgia O'Keeffe sized flowers.
Again, usage of windows and doors with my character represented behind the window or door, again, not being noticed, seen or heard.
It appears, I am actually giggling now - I was creating Shadow cards and didn't realize it. At Mercy we have a workshop coming up about shadow and these are sooooooo evident of my deepest, darkest, least integrated shadow.
A Divine poke, perhaps, to continue getting more and more real before that workshop.
GOOD NEWS: I have created tomorrow's art and it isn't even 9 am.
I know I will feel better tomorrow.
Have you allowed room for your shadow to show up in your art? How might that help you to grow as a human being as well as an artist?
I have no recollection of what happened on this day four years ago.
What I know is this: walking alongside my now nineteen-yea-old daughter Emma through her challenges and victories has been satisfying, even moreso, in retrospect. As a parent, it is so important to remember you are in this with your child in the long run, not just in the moment.
Step back to a moment, five years ago....
Emma - my fifteen-year-old daughter - just called me during her lunch period in tears.
She heard my voice and the tears and way-too-fast-to-understand speech started flowing.
This hasn’t happened in a while and my instinct is still to run to the school, scoop her up, bring her home and let her learn about negotiating socially later.
Instead, when she needed to get off the phone she quickly caught her breath, immediately sounded back to her normal self and hopefully is able to move along without losing any more of her day.
This has the makings of a very long weekend if she isn’t able to move along.
I may have to warm up the, “Sometimes you have to apologize for the misunderstanding instead of apologizing for what they want an apology for that you know you didn’t do” speech. She didn’t hear my “Do you know what it means to be positional?” speech at all.
I don’t even think she recognized how I slid into my “mental health” voice, the tones and cadence I used to use when my clients with severe mental illness were on the edge of escalating.
She is fifteen now and her outbursts have become more rare, but they are still there.
The absolutes gather steam, the hope balloon deflates and she is temporarily tossing about in the sea of teen pain and sorrow deeper than I can recognize right this moment.
None of those standard lines like “Things have a way of working out” or “It will blow over” or “If you just suck it up and apologize it will make your life so much easier” will work right now.
I just have to stay reasonably comfortable until 3:15 when I go fetch her from school and pray that between then and now something – anything – resolves favorably.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire.
Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: and on Periscope for writing prompt, tips and inspiration daily created to ignite your artistic rebirth.
Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world. She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people's creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming through the end of 2016.
To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735
Check out the links above to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.
I learned something new about my mother this weekend.
You would think after fifty years of life together we would
have covered everything.
Somehow I had forgotten or never knew some things about Mom,
but this reached into my heart and squeezed. How could I not have translated
her deep love for certain author/illustrator of children’s books alerted me
that at one time, this was one of my mother’s wildest dreams – to be an
illustrator of children’s books?
How could I not have known that?
She made paper dolls for my children when they were little:
in fact it was always Emma’s first expectation. “Nana’s coming? She will make
me paper dolls!”
She would sit down with colored pencils and draw children
much like the ones who pop up in 1930’s and 1940’s children’s books.
I knew my Mother’s drawing from her deep presence when
drawing houses for the Junior League tour. I remember sitting beside her, very
aware that what my Mommy was doing was sacred and sitting with her in silence
as cars drove by is one of those very sticky early childhood memories that
still comes awake easily when nudged.
I never took the time or hadn’t even thought to translate
paper dolls – assignment for Junior League to – this is what My Mommy really
wanted to do before she became My Mommy.
I realized I don’t even know what she majored in at Colorado
College before she left to become a wife and eventually a Mom of six. I know
what she majored in when she returned to school when I was seven-years-old,
Education – specifically Special Education, but her life pre-baby-Julie lived
mostly in stories told rather than creative jaunts taken together.
It took this weekend – this time of closeness after my
cancer experience – to give breath to her life and mine and the places they’ve
never intersected to now, when the invitation was opened the bridge was
lowered.
Several years ago I wanted, desperately, to collaborate with
my mother on a creative project. I provided watercolor paper, pencils, brushes,
even a fantastic location we could visit.
The collaboration never happened. I half-heartedly gave up.
This weekend, I shared my love of paper art – making a
variety of projects using old and vintage books and loving those books enough
to put them on display so they are not pushed away on a shelf and forgotten.
“I feel a twinge of guilt,” she said as I handed her an iron
and a stack of crumpled pages.
“Please iron these, it makes it so much easier.” I had dyed
pages and they had dried in such strange shapes and once again needed to be
flat.
I pulled a page I especially loved from my wall. “See, Mom,
I love this page too much to cut it up. The illustrations are so… I want to
preserve them.”
She looked at it thoughtfully, poised with the iron above
other pages. “I would like to somehow color the illustrations, but I’m just not
sure…”
She nodded, silently, and I put the page back on my wall.
Later we took other pages and made them into roses. Hers
didn’t turn out quite as they should, but I gave her the “No worries, they
always look strange until we unfurl them.”
The next day I found out she had simply rolled from the
wrong direction.
It was a simple fix to get it done.
When Mom was gathering her things to leave, she took a stack
of dyed papers we had set aside for her to watercolor and then she took the
rest of The Middle Moffat by Eleanor Estes to glean the best
illustrations and watercolor them, again. She looked like “the cat that
swallowed the canary” as she took the book from my house.
She had a creative plan.
We were collaborating.
Before she left she gave me a suggestion to make my roses
even more special.
I tried it. They’re looking better and better and better.
We ARE collaborating.
Another dream come true. Now when I get the water colored
pages back, I will frame them and hang them on the wall. Eleanor Estes’ words
will live on as will my mother and I. None of us will be up on the shelf, dusty
and dark, unread and unfavored. In the tiniest way, Mom is living her
illustration dreams.
This is my seventh post (of 31!) for the October Ultimate Blog Challenge.
Watch challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing
Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.
Julie Jordan Scott
has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator
and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award
winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother
Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam
champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS &
this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this
unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she
finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your
inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the
Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and
poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
This blog post had its genesis in two places: The Bloggy Moms Blog Dare who provided the prompt: "Don't let it bother you" and the Ultimate Blog Challenge, which reminds me daily I need to keep writing blog posts to keep up with the challenge. I am several posts behind right now, but I have committed myself to write write write for the next two days with the intention of being ahead by the time I go to sleep tomorrow night.
Yesterday in the Mommy Blog Darel, I wrote from a prompt that said, "Don't let it bother you." You may read my blog post here.
I took inspiration from this paragraph of stream of consciousness, free flow writing from that blog post and came up with a new line of content:
Don’t let it bother you because the bother lasts so much longer than the originating choice and follow through did. Make reparations. Smile. Breathe deeply and aim for now and your next nows.
How often do you make choices you wish you hadn’t made?
There are days when I make not so great choices which have a domino effect: one bad choice after another bad choice after another bad choice.
There are days – weeks, perhaps, when my choices all seem to follow my life intentions: from the clothes I choose to the toothpaste I buy to which item on my to-do list I decide to do first to how I create my schedule. I hum along life based on the right choices until one of those other sort of days, The Domino Days, catch up with me.
I could call those days curses and I could call those days paths to higher learning.
It is up to me to choose how to label them.
What do you think?
Could they be curses which lead to higher paths of learning?
Are they curses?
Are they paths of learning?
Are they just days in a long course of the other 364 (or 365) days in a year?
Consider which of these suggestions rings true for you. I know I tend to the “path of learning” idea and the “just days in a course of other days” concept.
You may know people whose idea is widely divergent from yours. Two of my closest friends would immediately label themselves and the day cursed.
Instead of shaking my head at them or putting my head in my hands in frustration, I give them space to work it out for themselves. What usually happens is they end up laughing about their initial assertion of the day and themselves being cursed.
Instead of me prescribing their shift, I stay beside them, perhaps gently questioning with something like, “What makes you say that” or “tell me more about how you see this day as cursed” and patiently follow up perhaps with silence or with no language sounds requesting more – mmm hmmms or ohhhhs or smiles.
You may eventually do a Scarlet impression complete with southern belle accent, “Well, you do know tomorrow is another day!” or you may let them say the first laughable line.
Choose to make space for your friends or family members who see it differently than you do.
That alone turns a “cursed” day into a blessed day.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
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