I obviously must enjoy challenge and pressure because this is how I craft the final weeks and days leading up to Christmas. Two days, three nights to go and I have a knitting project I'll be casting on after supper later tonight. Under normal conditions it is a 4 night project, but factoring in afternoon time tomorrow and Christmas Eve and I'm confident I'll be sipping spiked hot cocoa and laughing mirthfully at the folly of last minute mall shoppers.
Of course I still have holiday cards to finish writing. Ah, but in my wisdom I've learned to make them seasonal and consider New Years as the true cut off date, buying me another week and some change to go!
What I didn't factor in was 1) coming down with a nasty sinus infection that had me working from my bed, a Celtic Frida Kahlo if you will, and 2) a blizzard and 10 hours without power.
I may harbor fantasies of Little House in the Prairie, but I humbly admit I would have either succumbed to the elements, illness or madness the first long winter. Bundled in every woolen item I've ever knitted, I was still a icy wreck. Even the dog shivered under his Woolrich hunter's plaid dog jacket and blanket. The highlight of the adventure was hot tea and ramen noodles for breakfast. The girl was happy as noodles are one of her favorite breakfast items!
But my one superhero power is my ability to complete a task under the most trying of circumstances and so, while huddled another another blanket in the quiet and the cold, I finished knitting a shawl which I promptly wrapped about my already knit-bulky person. And then the power came back on!
Cowgirl and I sang a song of thanks to the power people (working in frigid temperatures with howling winds, I do not begrudge them their pay increase that is bundled in our rate hike) and we tossed in for good measure thanks to baby Jesus and "whose his mommy?" Mary and Ganesha (when hovering close to extinction, you want to cover all deities) and Moon Goddess.
Then we warmed up and head out into the snow.
This is our holiday madness. May your world be merry and bright. May you and your loved ones enjoy this time together, celebrating the miracles that come your way each and every day.
May you not only survive the holiday season, but find within the tumbled chaos and merry making time to savor those things that bring you true joy. And may that joy inspire all around you to share the love and warmth of their own hearts, their own shining if sometimes snow covered selves.
Warmest of holiday wishes, xo Lis, Cowgirl, & Moose
For Warmth I hold my face in my two hands. No, I am not crying. I hold my face in my two hands to keep the loneliness warm - two hands protecting, two hands nourishing, two hand preventing my soul from leaving me in anger. -Thich Nhat Hahn Right now I feel I am holding tight to my soul lest it slip away from me in sorrow and despair; I believe anger will come later. Anger for the unwillingness to see how our culture and society have contributed to disconnection. How the media - movies, television, music, video & computer games - glorifies violence and de-personalizes human life. Anger over the dragging of feet when it comes to gun control. Anger stemming out of frustration and a sense of overwhelm when it comes to righting the course of things. The task it seems to me is how do we instill values of connection, care, respect and true dialogue? Friday I had to resist the impulse to drive immediately to Cowgirl's school. To see her and hold her and remind myself of the goodness of this life; her being a tangible expression of love and hope for positive change. When I did go to pick her up, I had to control myself and not run to her and snatch her up in my arms. I did give her an extra long hug and then proceeded as if everything was the same as usual. Because things are the same. This is the world we inhabit. Cruelty and senselessness have always been in place. Children are freed from sweatshop enslavement but more remain. The trafficking of human lives takes place across the globe. Our planet continues to be raped on a daily basis. When I preach being present for my life, that presence includes these soul-crippling realities. The impulse is to numb myself to all that is painful to bear, but that tactic enhances a sense of powerlessness and hopeless that I refuse to accept. Being a parent, I am constantly challenged to clarify my thoughts and beliefs. I strive to be truthful when talking with my daughter. Children manage to ask the questions we adults have learned to avoid. So here is my opportunity to seek clarity and determine what it is I truly believe about this painful and beautiful life. I do believe who we are at the core is goodness and love. That said, I do believe evil exists. I believe whenever we forget our essence is love, whenever we believe ourselves to be disconnected, damaged or cut off from the whole, then we align with that mis-perception of ourselves. Evil is born out of this mis-identification. I tell my girl that people who do bad things do so because they believe themselves to be bad; they have forgotten or lost their sense of innate goodness and wholeness. At a very basic level, they hold themselves to be unlovable. I'm not a position to argue over the source of this disconnect. What I want more than anything is to stop debating, to stop trying to place blame outside of myself and look towards what is my responsibility. When I talk about self-care I really mean so much more than good nutrient, rest and physical care. The heart of what I want to offer is an experience of caring for, loving and honoring the goodness within ourselves. To remember ourselves as worthy of our own expression of love and cherishment. To then extend that care to those around us. To be fully present, loving and attentive to the people in our life. To cultivate true bonds and relationships that are more than just Likes on a Facebook page or hits on a website. I want to know the color of your eyes, the shape of your smile, the person behind the avatar. I understand the razor's edge I walk here: I am a digital entity to most of you, but the real force for change has always been through words. This is the gift of online life: sharing words, sharing ideas so that we might each recognize the power of our own words as a force for positive change. Here are my thoughts on this grey December day: I want to remember that what I feed my child is more than just organic, healthful food but ideas and beliefs. I want to raise her on a diet of loving values; entertainment that aligns with the principles of respect, care, and a valuing of life; kindness and compassion as anchors for living; I want her to know herself as worthy of both loving and being loved. I want to nurture and participate in true community. People bringing their gifts together so that we may all grow stronger, wiser, more loving. Today I may hold my face and my heart in my two hands, but tomorrow I want to use those hands to reach out and bring the wisdom of love into my world. If you have suffered, it is only because you have forgotten you are a leaf, a flower. The chrysanthemum is smiling to you. Don't dip your hands into cement and sand. The stars never build prisons for themselves. Let us sing with the flower and the morning birds. Let us be fully present. - Thich Nhat Hahn (Butterflies over the Golden Mustard Fields)
Ha! I bet had you thinking this multi-passionate gal has taken up auto restoration in addition to sewing, painting, knitting and kamikaze baking (my baking skills such as they are could be seen as threatening to all.)
Alas, dear friends, while I do enjoy the British show Wheeler Dealers (even Cowgirl sits transfixed by the nuts and bolts transformation of classic cars) the monkey wrench that has been tossed into my engine is merely the common cold that has me in bed, cutting out fabric stars for the holiday gifts I must get into the mail, um, yesterday?
The count-down has begun.
Inspired by Maya Donenfeld and Liz Lamoreux who each have created artful prayer flags (Maya using her own carved stamps and Liz using antique hankerchiefs) I decided to play with making my own. I love carving rubber stamps - it is a very soothing and relaxing process. (I've blogged about makings rubber stamps before both here and here ; here is a nice video tutorial for making your own.)
I wanted to create a set of flags for a friend embarking upon a new phase of life and so the rather Spring-like new beginnings theme in this prayer flag banner.
I also made lavender sachets filled with the most fragrant lavender from Apifera Farm. The smell was pretty heady and I believe I may have had a lavender-induced trip or two which is my excuse for some crooked but expressive sewing. (And yes, these creations were also inspired by Maya's work - I couldn't resist this wise old hoot owl to accompany me into the land of nod.)
Why do I do this to myself year after year? There is fabric, inks, paper and art supplies strewn across three floors of the house (since I am recovering in bed, I've dragged my wares upstairs making complete the transformation of home into hovel, albeit a colorfully festooned crafty hovel.) Obviously my body is sending me the message to slow the hell down and I really have no choice.
And yet. In my Dayquil addled brain new ideas spring forth and the improbable seems possible. Could I knit a few pairs of wrist warmers for family gifts? (Meaning: I don't have to worry about getting these gifts in the mail, so that allows for Christmas Eve - nay, Christmas morning! - knitting.)
So here I lie, spinning plates in my mind while downstairs there waits projects to be completed, packages to wrap and cards to be written. No wonder Santa has his elves!
And speaking of elves ... I had mine help me draw a name for last week's giveaway and the lucky winner is ... drum roll ... Kim from The Bodhi Chicklet. I think there will be some vermouth or java to celebrate! Congrats Kim. I will be passing the information onto the Bluestocking Elf in charge of enrollment!
I think the most challenging part of blogging is crafting an accurate title! I am loving the response to my last post ... it is so gratifying to see others carrying the conversation into other forums and this is why I churn out words and images on a fairly regular basis. For it is by being In dialogue and discussion with others and that compels me to dig deep and uncover the buried messages and yearnings of my heart and soul. From there, we bring together all our voices so that we can mindfully move forward contributing to the world we want to inhabit and pass on to the next generation. Lately it seems I have been wrestling with questions that have no easy or apparent answers. I have been conversation with 5 other brave and word-loving souls regarding the topic of Wisdom and how we each define, experience or find it in ourselves and in our lives. This lively debate has spawned an offering I am proud to be a part of:
Let me just say, explaining what I mean by wisdom (never mind figuring out how I know it or tap into it!) is a pretty heady experience. I suffered only minor breakdowns in attempting to tangle with wisdom. I am here (in one piece!) to say that I am pretty chuffed (to borrow a favorite term from a favorite thinker/writer) with my offering. And while I don't want to spoil the mystery, I will say that in the end I go beyond the wisdom of the body and the breath (and if you know me - and I think you all do - you probably can figure out where I finally discover my own wisdom resides, patiently and lovingly, awaiting my attention.) I've had a sneak peek at some of the offerings in this 8 week course (6 presenters) and I can honestly say, it is full of juicy and artful morsels along with the protein component of wisdom. What I love about this project is each of us grants authority to her own process and experience. Each of us uncovers and shares the wisdom gleaned from women's experiences - creativity, connection and conflict of family life, the body, cycles and nature. By recognizing we each can create and claim wisdom within our own lives, we empower others to look within themselves to determine and then align with their wisdom. As a mother, I see the urgency of this message for my young daughter: believe in, and trust yourself. In celebration of wisdom, I am offering a spot in the Bluestocking Salon's first e-course: The Bones of Wisdom. The course run January 7 - February 25, 2013. For a full description of the course and contents go here. To enter your name for a chance to win, either leave a comment here (one comment per person) or email me to add your name into the hat: Lishofmann(at)novia(dot). If you are a facebook person, then "like" our page and share with your readers (facebook or blog) to receive additional entries. (Let me know how you helped spread the word by either a comment here or email.)
I will draw a name at random next Thursday, December 13 and announce the winner on Friday. Please be sure I have a way of contacting you (or be sure to check in and see if you are the lucky winner!)
I mention planting seeds and I as I move through these thoughts on wisdom, which seems to involve self trust and deep listening, I am continually pulled to create or contribute to some kind of project or program involving girls in that wonderfully formative age range of 8 to preteen (of course, Cowgirl is 8!) Just the other day Cowgirl agreed to an after-school play session with a friend, only to tell me in the car "I really want to be home with you, but I guess I have to make my friend happy and do what she wants." She feared being honest with her friend, saying "She will be angry with me and tell me she doesn't want to be friends anymore." Already she is picking up on the negative message to dismiss her feelings and needs in order to fit in or be accepted. I can address these issues, but I know deeper and more insidious ones lie far below every day conversations. Somehow, some way I want to chip away at inherited biases and beliefs that bolster gender inequalities. No small task, but listening to this young woman speak, I am compelled to try to make a difference in whatever way I possibly can:
(This amazing young woman is part of a documentary Somewhere Between which explores the experiences of four teenaged women adopted from China and living in the U.S.)
So tell me, how do we as women claim wisdom for our lives, our stories? How can we empower younger women and girls not only trust in themselves, but stand up and fight for their place as makers and markers of wisdom? Who are the wise ones, the mentors and heroines in our lives? How can we recognize and teach our girls (and ourselves) that, as Fang so clearly expresses it, "We don't have to wait around, we can be our own heroines, our own saviors. But we need mentors."
This is the soil I am turning. The seeds I am tending. I can't help myself. I love that little face with my entire being. I would love your thoughts. I would love the support. I am open, ready, and apparently qualified in wisdom (as are you) so let's get started.
I am so proud of my girlfriend who is presently traveling in Morocco, a 40th birthday gift to herself. She is with another girlfriend while her husband stays home and cares for their two children, one being Cowgirl's BFF #1 (Best Friend Forever.) Our families met while we were in China adopting our girls and ever since we mommies have been BFF's as well. Whenever I call her, I joke "did you see my bat signal?" This friend has been a source of incredible support, mothering insight, in addition to lots of laughter, wine and chocolate. She is probably the most generous and caring person I know (and I know a fair good number!) so I am extra thrilled that she is taking this time and celebrating herself with this trip. Before she left, she wrote me this (as she is traveling, I hope it is okay to be sharing her words): I am a few days away from taking my big trip to Morocco and maybe I'm feeling a little guilty about leaving the family or maybe this is really a question to ponder for women like us who believe in taking care of ourselves. The question is. . . am I too selfish? Or, how do I know when I'm being too selfish? She added that it was a female friend who could not understand the decision to travel without her family or take the time away from work and others who may need her. How do you reconcile taking time for yourself while the rest of the world thinks you should be there to take of them? These questions got me thinking a lot about this practice of self care that I've been preaching. The more I ponder it, the clearer it becomes that caring for ourselves is how we show up for our lives awake, present and full. It seems to me if everyone tended to their own needs - by which I mean first love and honor themselves as worthy, sacred, whole - then we wouldn't need to take from another, we wouldn't be manipulating people and our planet to fill ourselves with meaning or importance. When we deny ourselves that which nourishes our spirit, our bodies, and our Joy-selves, then any action we take will have some Shadow aspect at play. I've seen and received the giving which has emotional strings attached. I know I have given out of a need to feel needed, accepted and loved and never has that exchange satisfied myself or the other person.
But if we care for ourselves and come to our relationships already full, we allow others the space and permission to do the same. And then we are contributing to an environment of love and trust because others will not perceive us as needing something from them. It is when we feel a lack within ourselves that we seek to gain or take something from another.
I know as a woman the greatest gift I can give my daughter is to model loving and caring for myself. It seems to me, women suffer more from this belief that to put their needs first is to be selfish. I just don't buy that. If I care for myself, then I have the energy and resources to be present for those who need me. But I also allow them to focus upon understanding their needs AND then being empowered to fill them. It seems to me it is about empowerment. If I constantly do and give to you, aren't I sending the message that you are not capable of taking care of yourself?
These were all my responses to my friend, written in a moment of well ... feeling pretty empowered. And then I watched this trailer and a monkey wrench of sorts landed in the middle of my neat and tidy theory.
Documentary Lost in Living go here for more info I have found it easy to establish firm boundaries around self care when it comes to my physical being: staking claim to time for exercise, rest, nurturing my body and even my spirit in order to stay healthy and minimize stress and tension. But when it comes to my supporting my creative well-being I admit, I do waver.
I crave chunks of time to burrow into creative pursuits. Writing and painting are practices that benefit from sustained effort. (I can so relate to the analogy of feeling like a car that cannot move beyond second gear and yet craves to speed down the open highway!) I cannot feed those kinds of projects in 10 minute increments shuffled between homework, making dinner and bedtime. I come home from work and have to choose: tidy the house (rarely happens) or use the hour for my real work. For this is how I think about it: I have my day job but the work that nourishes me, the work that fulfills and excites and contributes to my inner growth is this work here - this essay, the canvases waiting for me to continue the conversation, the larger projects that require my undivided attention and which take me on a journey of discovery and self discovery.
And yet, I fail to vigorously defend the worth of these practices. I find my conviction lagging as I explain to the Husband why dinner was thrown together haphazardly in a last minute frenzy; I find myself swallowing bitterness and anger when after a full afternoon of being with Cowgirl, I am the one to go upstairs and do the bedtime reading even though the Husband said he would, because now is on an important phone call. I pass by my cluttered table of projects perpetually uncompleted.
I know what I do is also important, but when its importance appears to be measurable by oneself, it is hard to stand firm and steady. Yet this is what I know I must begin to do. For if anything fills me up, promotes my complete well-being and by extension the well-being of my family, it is this work of my heart and soul. It is tricky terrain. More so because I am taking steps to allocate more of my time for it while restructuring and redefining career goals in ways that probably won't make sense to others outside of myself, my husband and kindred friends. It requires stepping into what will probably be considered selfishness and most certainly irresponsible. Here I cling to Helen Keller's famous words: Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.
I'd like to believe that any positive change for our world, any possibility of healing for the planet will have to begin with each one of us. Our homes, our families, ourselves finding fulfillment within rather than from without. As my dear friend and Shero Jane would say, I'm pulling on my big girl undiesand stepping up to the task. This is a conversation needing to take place. I'm not sure if it is just with myself, with my husband or with the entire bloody world?
The laziness of the Thanksgiving holiday belies the storm that is a brewin' in my mind: now begins the wild ride to see how many gift projects I can complete in one month's time!
What I've noticed over past holiday seasons and what I've failed to rectify in any sane manner, is a natural law whereby with each passing day on the advent calender, incredibly wonderful ideas for holiday gifts manifest and I frantically attempt to achieve the unachievable. In past years I've knit ungodly numbers of mittens and hats; sewn increasingly crazier crazy quilt-like tote bags; painted, stamped or drawn home made holiday cards; attempted baking projects well beyond the scope of a novice-can't-follow-directions baker; aspired to personalize photobooks and journals; and engaged in far too many last minute and late night crafting sessions. I also declare each year that this year I will choose a saner path. I will plan, I will prioritize, I will be realistic. Yeah, right, silly me! It is the energy of the pressure cooker which transforms kernels of ideas into a popping frenzy of possibilities and ideas.
So here I go! Sewing, stamping, knitting my way into this first week.
First, I will be sure to fortify myself for the long days (and nights) ahead. Thank goodness for left-overs!
I seem to be operating in a out-of-time way (okay, call me chronically late) but I would be remiss not to mention this beautiful and free offering created by a lovely Soul Storm sister, Joanna. It has already started, but there are still many days of goodness ahead. I cannot think of a better way to move through these magical holiday days.
The benefit of offering a course on self care is the constant awareness to practice it! I am so very grateful I've learned to trust that when an idea comes to me in a flash, I am follow it forward despite the almost immediate ruckus of doubts and obstacles tossed my way by the shadow-loving gremlins of fear and insecurity. Certainly the best course for me to lead is the one I need most in this moment. I've been in building mode: creating the course, planning some local offerings and new adventures and projects. It has been invigorating but it also has been exhausting. The shorter days have also taken their toll and in the interest of modeling exquisite self care, I have found myself scaling back, doing less, resting more. The unexpected core of my self care practice has been slowing down, doing one thing at a time and being mindful as to who, where, or what I am directing my attention towards. So far, the result has been I am feeling less scattered, more focused and energized. I am finding a reserve of patience, kindness and loving care that sometimes falls by the wayside when I am frazzled or stressed. I am seeing relationships reinvigorated. Time with my girl has become more creative and playful despite the fullness of our day and schedules. And - knock on wood - so far our entire family is staying healthy while colds and viruses run through our respective schools/workplaces. The joy of slowing down is choosing carefully what best nourishes me in any given moment. And as this building phase winds down, (well, maybe ... I have since been invited to contribute to two other projects!) I find myself returning to the practices I had to let rest while I worked elsewhere. My life feels like an English cottage garden: from a distance a bit random and haphazard, but upon closer inspection there is an order and logic present to its layout. While one bed rests fallow, a bit of manure heaped upon it for nourishment, another requires weeding while a third may be in full bloom and a fourth, ready to seed.
So this past week I tended to some favorite beds, turning up the soil, getting my hands messy, creating, destroying, preparing. This is how self care appears in my life.
I bow my head in gratitude for this jumbled, sometimes frustrating, always in process and always vibrant existence.
I guess I am more like a whirling dervish or a plate-spinner than I care to admit. But I'm in good company. ♥ The drawings are part of a go-at-your-own-pace course called Capturing the Essence by Katherine Dunn of Apifera Farm. The course is still open and there is plenty of time to enjoy the beautiful lessons which center upon the colorful hooved, webbed and paw-footed residents of the farm. It has been my sanctuary to visit there, albeit virtually through my laptop screen.
The vitality of blogs and blogging is a topic that has been floating around the matrix for quite some time. It is something I have been chewing on and bemoaning as I find some of my favorite bloggers drifting away from their creations, for various reasons. Perhaps it is rattling just me and my old fashioned ways, which is humorous as blogging is coming to feel more like letter-writing habits of an elite class of 18th or 19th century thinkers when considered alongside Facebook or Twitter or the general habit of texting versus - gasp! - real emails! I am a relative juvenile when it comes to blogging. This little habit of mine has been in place for 3+ years, begun well after what seems to have been some kind of golden age of blog writing. Do you remember when you would find a new blog writer whose words or images or life snagged your attention? How you would then spend hours pouring through their archive of posts, like reading a serial novel a la Dickens in reverse? Piecing together how the blogger arrived at the point when you first joined them, as if unraveling their narrative would perhaps shed light upon your own? Call me antiquated, but I still love a good blog. Not the flashy, highly edited and styled blogs that exists as storefronts for online businesses (and I have a version of that myself, so I'm not throwing stones here) but blogs that are like someone's kitchen or dining room table in that they reveal whatever is currently central in a person's life. Yes, that may mean loads of sappy poetry-prose illustrated by equally vintage-golden photographs of flower arrangements, kittens, sunsets or flower arrangements (check, check, check I've got them all!) but I rather like the idea that anyone can post whatever they deem of value in their lives and for whomever they are hoping to communicate with because at least there is an intention to share and maybe, just maybe, communicate.
I can look around my home and see evidence of bloggers' influence. The first blogs I read were knitting ones, reviving and augmenting my forgotten yarn skills. I can pick up any number of hats, scarves or sweaters and tell you which blogger introduced me to the pattern. If I was a motivated blogger, I would share photos of those pieces with links to the original spaces where I discovered them - another aspect of blog reading I enjoy: the experience of discovery. Alas, it is late and I am being a lazy but honest blogger so I'll spare you the trip down knitterly lane.
I am grateful to the group of bloggers who shared their adoption journeys so candidly and publicly, for it was those stories that gifted me the ability to know something about the process and to envision and believe we were capable and indeed eager to pursue it as a means of creating our family. So many new perspectives, creative ideas, books, philosophies on living and family, along with a sense of community have come about due to this thing called blogging. I know the discussion has raged on about sanitized blogs: people carefully constructing the image of themselves and their lives that they want others to believe. Isn't that another form of fiction and if we don't see through the ruse, doesn't the artifice eventually become wearying and we move on? Yes, there is the whole comparing-my-life-to-that-prettified-life-and-finding-mine-lacking hazard, but honestly, I never stay long at those kinds of blogs anyway. I mean, they are like Glamour or Elle magazines and I don't buy those either (except when needing collaging materials.) Maybe the Martha Stewartesque crafty blogs warp my sense of what is achievable but even those I know only photograph the cleared table with said project, ignoring the chaos behind the camera (count me guilty as charged!)
Here's the thing: I know we all edit and select what we want to publicly share but hasn't that always been the case? Friends come over and I shove the clutter of mail and papers into a drawer, stash my bins of supplies in a closet and give a quick wipe to the countertops. And maybe I am just quirky, but what I choose to blog about is not so much what I want you, dear reader, to see and know about me as much as it is what I want to explore and understand about myself. A friend recently asked me how blogging differed from keeping a journal. I've been chewing on that question for awhile now as I realize I much prefer my blog to anything I've scribbled in my journals. In fact, I consider my blog to be a more accurate reflection of me and my life. When I write in a journal, there is no audience so I should be free to express all my thoughts, dark and light, crazy and mundane. Maybe it is because I write for only myself, I never push myself to fully develop my ideas, thoughts, opinions as I do when I write for this space. The knowledge that someone else will read my words compels me to gather my thoughts and work my way towards some kind of understanding or perspective. I force myself to clarify what is often murky when I start out writing. A kernel of a thought or idea brings me to the laptop and as I write, I dig into the jumble of my thoughts, seeking to uncover some deeper meaning, seeking to understand what it is I truly know and believe about myself and this journey that is my life.
That any of this would be of use or interest to another, well, I don't know. I hesitate to say "I don't care" but truly I do this for myself and if it amuses or benefits another in some way, wonderful. Still, I show up here for myself. This space is a place of accountability. It is my form of mindfulness I guess. It is a lot of work. If no one reads my words, would I continue? I would like to believe I would because I do this first and foremost for myself. The historian/academic in me does this with a thought towards the future and the possibility of these words enduring so that some kind of snapshot of the life and mind of one 21st century Joy Warrioress mama/artist/dilettante will be visible. I do this so my girl may know her mama in a way that I never was able to know my mother.
All pie in the sky, I'm sure but I also joke that I was attending yoga classes back when people wore sweatpants (no Lululemon techno-intelligent fabrics back then!) and I will still be on my mat when the herds have moved on to the next trend. And while the world lives in the sound-bites that is Facebook and Twitter, probably morphing into space-age virtual texting via brain-graphs, I probably will still be here blogging with my lap blanket, pot of tea and the fading afternoon light reminding me it is time to get up and back into the life that so compellingly caused me to pause and wonder and write. I now return you to your real life. Thank you for viewing my brain lint!
I was just interviewed by a dear friend, fellow Joy Warrior, sister-of-my-soul Jane Cunningham for her series SHEros which you can read here. Of course, Jane is my SHEro and she continues to inspire me with her work, including a new e-course for 2013: Choosing True Over Nice as part of her Women's Soul Workshops. Thank you Jane for so lovingly witnessing me.
I love the Sunday morning when we wake up and realize we have an "extra" hour in the day. I love that for the time being, there is some sunshine peeking out when I walk Moose in the morning. My energy and enthusiasm swell with the rising sun ... but then evening will descend at 5:11 today and the dark nights are only going to get longer and longer in the coming months.
Yesterday I felt the strong, insistent pull of the dark. It was a grey, cold, drizzly day which only added to my heavy mood. I found myself roaming around the house like an unsettled ghost; I could not transform my restless energy into action. Truth be told, in the hustle to develop my self care e-course, I've neglected some essential pieces of myself. Even though I knowingly made this bargain - some of my time shifted into building time - I now am on the other side of it and ready to shift gears back to a happy idling mode. Except, shifting feels rather clunky right now. In my restless scurrying, I knew the things I could to do to ease me over this hump: grab paper, a pen, some paints and make a mark. Any mark. Begin now. Scribble and see where it takes me.
I felt clumsy and awkward. My creative mind feels flabby. Ideas which normally pour out too fast for me to capture, now seemed lost in the dust. But I also know and had to trust in this process: that to begin where I am is the first step to taking me somewhere else. And anywhere would be a change from the dark, dreary and depressing day that threatened to swallow me whole. I made a couple of drawings while Cowgirl worked on some dragons. Her capacity to create new dragons never fails to inspire and astonish me. If you love it, then just do it. Over and over and over. As long as it engages you, it is vital and alive.
I felt a little better. Still rusty, still emotionally wobbly. But I knew what my next step should be. I connected with the circle of women who have been my SouLodge tribe for over a year now. I shared with them that I was struggling, I let them witness me as I was in that moment and I let them hold the space for me to be without apologizing or diminishing the discomfort of my experience. I didn't need to read their responses, I just needed to voice my truth. I then closed the laptop and tended to dinner. Today the sun is out. Today my energy has shifted as I knew (but cannot always believe) it would do. I am grateful for the self care practices I have been sharing and I am grateful for the knowledge of what I need to offer myself on a daily basis: art, friendship, community, space and acceptance of all that moves through me, but does not define or limit me.
Staying in flow means moving through the dark and the light. Welcoming it all as it puts in me touch with the one constant in life: Love.
All words, photographs and art work on this site are (c) Lisa Hofmann unless otherwise noted. If you want to use any of my work, please make sure I am credited and drop me an email Lishofmann88(at)gmail(dot)com or leave a comment. Keep your karmic field clear! Each of us has an abundance of gifts and talents, so tap into yours ♥
