hello hello! (it's me again ...)

Truly, honestly, hopefully ...

I'm bahhhhh ...ck!

I won't lie, it has been a bitch of a season ... or two, or three.  I was probably (read: absolutely!) in denial of the depths of my funky-funk and so I kept myself moving forward by thinking Tomorrow I will be back on track and ready to dive into my life. 

Oh, I was deep into my life, just not the version I wanted to be my normal. But somewhere along the way I realized This is it; this IS my normal. That was my surrender moment. Of course, a whole slew of gifts manifested once I accepted my new snail's eye perspective.  When energy is low, it becomes really easy to discern the essential from the inessential.  My world narrowed down and that afforded me opportunity to dig deep and anchor myself with the basics.   I returned to my yoga practice (stretching, breathing exercises, relaxation) which in turn has brought me back to teaching.  

My art making practice has also been an exploration of why I feel the need to create and what that process nourishes: slowing down, looking, seeing, celebrating and remembering.  Back to line drawings, back to quick sketches just as my asana practice has been a return to the fundamentals to keep things fluid, open and moving. 

I had cause this morning to search back through this blog (it really is a form of memory holding for me) and I was inspired by the color, by the play, by the childlike joy in creating and sharing.  I've missed that connection with myself ... and with others.

So this is my humble return.  

We took a family camping trip at the beginning of the month to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in northern Minnesota. It was my first time canoeing! We rented our gear from an outfitter who took us to an entry point, loaded up our canoe, handed us a map and compass and with a wave sent our little family off on a 4 day, three night adventure.  We had no set agenda other than a rendez-vous point down (or was it up?) river at a take out point.  We started paddling and pretty much were immediately lost in the sense we could not discern distant shoreline from the many small islands. We had to find a portage point (the first of many) and I admit, there was almost a mutiny among our grumbling crew.  In such matter, listen to the children. The Girl pointed out other boaters and by following them, we found our first portage.  (There is nothing more obnoxious than a preteen lording over her parents the fact she was right!)

The rest of the trip (after the long portage carrying heavy packs up and over rocks, through mud and through a rainstorm; after the thunderstorm brewing up while we frantically paddled in hopes of arriving at an empty campsite; and after the mosquitoes that feasted on any and all body parts bared no matter how brief the reveal) was an exquisite adventure. Few people, no devices, moonlight over pine trees, night time serenades by the loons, daily Bald Eagle visits, campfires, s'mores, fishing, tent time and laughter and stories and snoring.  A.Very.Good.Time.Indeed.

preparing our first night's dinner

Our second campsite came with a resident turtle and 2 fearless chipmunks

Now I am settling into the summer routine here. The Girl has been in art lessons and now a horse riding camp.  I have been putting in extra hours at the equine therapeutic riding stables where I volunteer, due to a health crisis (new virus) that hit the horses. It is winding down now, but it was intense and scary and one sweet horse was lost. I've had the horses on my mind and want to return to sketching portraits of the herd.  I know for myself such "projects" keep me on track while also stretching my muscles and honing skills.   

sweet Lucy, who is truly in the sky with diamonds now

Speaking of projects ... I also am slowly making my way through the creation of a final deck - Fire! - of Inner Alchemy Cards (a project created and mentored by Mindy Tsonas)  It all of my own creation (my other decks were created during a online class) and it is challenging and rewarding to be determining the concepts that evoke Fire for me.

Of course it is the absolutely perfect subject for me to be working through as I make my way back ...

What sparks, motivates, and inspires me to action? What qualities provoke change, growth and transformation?  

How could I forget?! I know you want to know about Moose! After a long struggle with various and minor ailments (but none-the-less frustrating AND costly) I am happy to report he is a new boy and living life with the bowl half-full-of-kibble attitude. The very high tech "button-therapy" (sewing his eye shut with a real button on the lid to keep the skin smooth, the eye closed so it could heal) was a miracle treatment.  He is back to both eyes operational although he chooses to rest them frequently (the key to his longevity: lengthy and multiple naps through the day and night).

Moose, with his button (his left eye)

And that, my friends, is all for now. I will return soon-ish. I promise :)

out of the doldrums

Oof! End of summer (school started up this week) has hit me hard. It has been a busy season - 4 trips in 2 months - with no shortage of emotional twists and turns. August arrived and I was knackered but ready for a shift.  Well, not the shifts of a preteen Cowgirl (cue: eye rolls, heavy sighing, stomping and flouncing. I ask you, is there any better flouncer than an almost eleven-year old?) 

perfecting her "tough"  you can't tell me anything look

It seems perverse that school is back in session with the best pool days of the season happening now. It is hot here which means  ...

tomatoes!

and peppers!

pepper-mania! an entire 4 by 4 foot box filled with jalapenos, cayenne, poblano and green peppers

and all sorts of garden activity.

We've been roasting tomatoes for freezing along with making vats of salsa and gazpacho soup. What the Husband has in mind for this bumper crop of peppers, I have no idea but it should worry me!

yes, an entire jar of hot pepper puree

Meanwhile, I've felt like I was stuck in quicksand as the more I attempted to fight my way out of the doldrums, the deeper I sunk in. A friend sent me a useful article on the proper technique for dealing with real quicksand and I found its advice effective in my situation. It counsels to lay back and relax, allowing oneself to basically float upon the quicksand. Slowly being lifted up, one is then able to pull legs out and roll away.  

Which is what I ended up doing yesterday after a mild bout of food poisoning. A day spent flat on my back (and curled into a fetal position) not doing anything because I couldn't do anything! Yeah, I love how life works this way: what I cannot do for myself, the Universe steps in and does for me. Often against my will and judgment, but it always works out.

Speaking of working out ... Moose dog received a clear report on his tumor biopsy! So he gets to keep his toe and I have my muse for awhile longer. 

If nothing else, the past year has shown me that my sketch journal is my very best way of riding upon any emotional wave whether it be grief, fear, overwhelm or the doldrums. For no matter how intense life can seem, picking up my pen and turning to my sketch diary is my best move. It allows me to ease into the moment and rather than escaping, it offers a pause so that I can find spaciousness around what is. This is what I've known from yoga practice and what I seek to bring into my life more fully: that in any given moment, I am more than just my body, more than just my emotions, more than just the thoughts in the mind. I am all of that ... and I am more. 

And there is so much more to take in, to open myself up to ... so much more that waits in the wings ready to inspire and delight me ... ready to offer me insight and guidance on how to proceed. 

On this day - which is still summer even if my girl is in school -  I can step outside and be in wonder and in ease. 

With my sketch diary and Moose dog by my side.

With gratitude for Terri who recently contacted me about my Sketch Diary Explorations offering from August 2014. I hope to create a new offering, probably not until 2016. But for anyone interested in this 6 week/6 lesson summer camp, I am more than happy and able to send it out either once a week for 6 weeks or all at once (in 6 emails). Full information can be found HERE. To sign up, contact me at: Lishofmann88(at)gmail(dot)net and I will send you an paypal invoice. As there is no formal group class, price is adjusted to $35.
 

gone to the dogs ...

I had thought I would share about my on-going obsession with canine portraiture ... and I will at another time ... but as I was thinking to myself "I've gone to the dogs" I must have inadvertently called down upon myself all manner of mishap and misfortune.

You see, this is the current state of my world.

You have to factor in the noise - handymen muttering to themselves, air stapler whapping and the concurrent hissing of a pump (for said air stapler or hammer-thingy) that makes it seem like are on a raft that is steadily deflating. 

Unfazed by it all is Mr. Moose who lies by my feet. Well, he is on pain medication which brings up another story of angst and woe. I found a black mass by a toe and trust me when I say, you do not want to Google 'black mass toe dog" unless you are prepared for some grisly images and dire reports. So immediately he went in to see the vet and the mass had to be removed - surgically of course - in order to be biopsied. So now we wait to find out what exactly that black blob was (think skin tag please.) But the Universe knows it is best to keep busy lest one's thoughts drift down dark alleys so it tossed out a curve ball with this line dropped into the post-op report "found a live flea on Moose."

Okay. So this is how it goes. As I've been in a month long practice called Messages Everywhere I now have the habit of pausing and asking myself "What is the message in this situation?" Or more appropriately: what meaning can I fashion using the caca that life serves up?  Just last week I had finally - finally! - settled into a routine of sorts with a writing project that has been fluttering about my mind and disturbing my sleep for some time now. I got butt in chair and began.

And then I had to stop in order to tend to the chaos that is life. Or my life anyway. Handymen, vet visits, flea wrangling, and all manner of inopportune events and details forced upon me.

And that is life, isn't it? I catch myself moaning "When I get my life back ..." but it was never lost or surrendered. It feels like it's been hijacked, but that is a product of my believing I am in total control of this story. The truth is, I am a co-author at best or as I think of myself, half of a dance duo. Sometimes I get to lead, but more often I have to follow, to allow the dance to swirl and twirl me about, learning the footing as I go.  It's not always elegant ... think Cloris Leachman in Dancing With the Stars. But I can still have fun, still make it mine through the way I respond to what is tossed at me.

So the writing, for now, is on hold again. I suppose something is simmering within. Meanwhile, I pull out my sketch journal and commit to a daily practice: one Moose a-day. This I can do. This brings me a small parcel of joy. I am also writing letters and engaging in the most therapeutic of all actions: doodling. I'm not changing the world, but I am changing the world within me. 

One dog drawing and painting at a time.

Maybe I'm not suppose to  figure everything out -  make sense of it all -  so much as find ways to stay in love amid the mess and confusion. In love and adding to it. 

When I am overwhelmed, when I am in fear, when I am at my wits end - a good place to be, I believe ... out of wits and into faith - then I must remember to return to what carries me through ...

I create and I pray.

I ask for what I need, I ask for guidance. I ask to remember to act, speak, and come from my heart.

And so it is. And so it will be.

Love & Woof!

 

my girl, home from camp!

sacred shit ... (finally, friday)

I kid not ... it had been one of those weeks (that was quickly turning into two weeks and showed no signs of losing steam) 

let's see ... I hurt my back, then I was sick with my first cold in years, then we discovered a leak in our dishwasher that turned out to have deposited water under the adjacent cabinets which wicked up the moisture and began to rot and mold(!) and sun apparently went on a walk-about leaving us with cold, rainy, damp days (and days ... and days ...)

The going was rough my friends, and the only option left to me that held any crumbs of hope ...

the horses ... or more precisely, the therapeutic work that is cleaning stalls a.k.a., shoveling shit. (actually, the poop isn't so odious, it it uncovering and drying out the noxious pee spots ... some of these horses excel in hiding dribbles and puddles under seemingly pristine bedding. But I am a master pee dowser!) 

This place has been my salvation. Just one morning (and many, many many buckets of sacred poop later) and I not only feel Spring returning to my weary soul, but signs abound that indeed, vitality and hope are in my cards and in my future.

 

I am a believer once again. Oh, there was a moment I had my car keys in my hand, wild-eyed and frantic to escape (and I still might, renovations on the kitchen have not yet begun)  but the heaping dose of sunshine and horse love are enough to keep me going. For the time being. Fortunately, I can always run to the barn when things get rough and know there are friendly faces waiting for me. And stalls to muck. Always, stalls to muck! 

going slow ...

An interesting thing happens when when you slow down and commit to uni-tasking  ...  the day feels large, time stretches and snaps like an elastic band and a common response to the inquiry of "what did you do today?" is perplexed silence.

What did I do with this day?  Or more accurately: what did this day offer me? 

Lots.  Just nothing I can quantify or measure in the usual terms. How illuminating that my knee-jerk response is to want to offer some sort of measurement of productivity? As if wrestling with the contents of my world or my mind is a sign of deep engagement? Certainly the rabbits who are frolicking about my yard aren't concerning themselves with how many of my pansies they demolish in a day. (Okay, frolic may be too energetic a term for these suburban lagomorphs who resemble overfed house cats lolling in the sunshine.) 

There is a natural heaviness to this season of new beginnings.  Through Ayurveda I've come to appreciate that this period of earth mixed with water (rain) = mud. Just the other week I was volunteering at the stables on a misty, damp day.  We took the horses outside to their corrals for some fresh air while we cleaned inside.  Then the rain came. Hard. Fast. Cold and miserable.  We rushed out to bring the horses in but rushing was impossible. Each step in the now-sticky mud coated my boots in a thick and heavy layer so each step felt like I was walking upon slippery platform shoes. The horse I was told to retrieve was even more distressed by the unstable conditions, refusing to face downhill, he slide sideways towards the gate.  At one point, all I could do was circle him around and around because going forward was impossible.

Hmmm ...

I finally just stopped moving. And waited for help to come. Part of my work with horses is to yield completely and utterly to my lack of experience, learning to say I need help, learning to ask for guidance and learning to trust that I am, well, learning.  It is an overdue correction to how I was in childhood and, truth be told, an embarrassing amount of adulthood. Saying I didn't know or understand something seemed to me - as a child -  to be a sign of my inherent lack or incompetence and therefore something I guarded carefully. Understanding the absurdity of this still does not undo a lifetime of habit and fear. But I am chipping away at it.

Sounds a bit like Anne Lamott's famous prayer: Help. Thanks. Wow.  In my case, the wow came once I sat down in my car and took stock of my boots, drenched jacket and hair do inspired by a mix master blender frappe cycle. 

All of this is to say, going forward isn't always the best option and mud demands a delicate kind of surrender. I cannot clomp through mud, it just won't allow it. What is required is a mindful and careful stepping forward and an understanding that things will be messy for awhile.  Learning not to rush, but to linger ... and summoning persistence, stick-to-it-ness seems to be my mode for the season.

Even this wonky little bowl required undo amounts of patience and willingness to start again ... and again ... and again.  It's imperfections remind me that I am not striving for perfection, but instead seeking to learn, discover, grow, and ask for guidance.

Oh yes ... guidance ... seeing who my real teachers are ...

Happy mud days. May there be much comfort in these mud pies of mine.  I am inhabiting out-of-time-ness with these inspirations: 

Taking my time listening to David Whyte's What To Remember When Waking.  The perfect guide for the threshold stages I've been traversing.  
true discipline - reading one poem a day from his collection and not continuing on ... it is hard, just one but then time allows the images to soak in ...

Sharon Blackie (reenchantingtheearth.com) This post got my mind whirling ... (thank you Mel)

Company in the dark (and the light!) places - The Sacred Pause and my sister in moondancing (more to say about her amazing work on repatterning energetic boundaries, if there is anything the doctor should prescribe, it is this!)

Speaking of the moon ... my moon mandala meditation practice is my contribution  to Spectrum 2015 which begins on May 1st.  26 amazing workshops that compliment and augment each other in magical and exciting ways. I am particularly excited by Hali's offering "Calling on the Grandmothers" and Jennette's offering of Make-To-Mend moon ritual object and moon exilir.  

Finally, this had me in tears ... and filled with gratitude and anticipation as I will be making this very journey next October with Em and Nicole. 

Suddenly, I realize I am soaking in a wonderfully cleansing mud bath of ideas and new perspectives! Feel the energy of sunshine slowly drying things out ...

my muses

Her name is Pebbles ...

She has found her home but more importantly, she has completed the sense of home for her people.  This is the gift our animal companions so generously offer us: a safe and eager and accepting place to stow the contents of our hearts. They willingly take what we offer without passing judgement, not enough or too much or too trivial is not in their vocabulary.

These four-legged seraph have been wiggling their way into my life since I was a child: the one year I remember visiting Santa, I asked for a puppy and that great old elf delivered!  Wet noses and wagging tails have been appearing in my home but also in my dreams, journeys and naturally, in my  paintings.

Pebbles, it is time for your close-up!

Other muses that recently have captured my attention  ... all dear fairy helpers to their humans, my friends ...

 

I like to think of myself as the Alice Neel of the canine set ...  with an unacknowledged preference for black and white dogs? 

My muse awaits me ...  resting comfortably by my feet but always on the ready to serve up his specialty: unabashed and always enthusiastic love.