has blogging died?

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.

beating the heat

 

 Okay, I give up - the heat is definitely whooping this freckled fair-skinned girl's butt!  I am peeling my dewy-self off of the couch where, I confess, I've been doing something close to nothing.  I wish I had words of refreshment if not inspiration for these days that are way beyond dog days.

I mean, even the dog has created a trough in the carpet from napping 24/7.

Speaking of napping ...

That is about the extent of my efforts of late.

 Oh, my limp hands have held some good books (The Paper Garden: An Artist Begins her Life Work at 72 which means I have 22 years to loaf before I have to become serious) and my journal ("Yesterday, hot. Today, still hot with a veneer of grumpy") and a few dishes and cones of ice cream. 

The only thing that is thriving right now (besides the energy company) is this pumpkin vine which I swear doubles in size overnight.

So I make more sun tea (lemongrass, ginger, hibiscus and spearmint), venture out after dusk and before dawn to water the garden and walk the dog, dream of rainy days (no, really, I've been dreaming I am standing outside in rainstorm which right now surpasses any Ewan McGregor dream and that is something I never imagined could happen!) and wait for the day when thoughts and motivation no longer melt away by 10 AM .

Waving to you all from my couch where I am just chillin', breathing and being.  Waiting for this steamy interlude to be over.  Contemplating what constitutes my dharma, my joy,  and hoping for the energy to resume my journey towards it.

Which reminds me ... time for my 4 PM ice cream fix treat. 




 

it's really bad when ...

... I dissolve into tears before the Walgreen's pharmacy clerk.

Actually, I knew things were headed down a dark road when I found myself eating cold cereal for supper a few nights back. And really REALLY OFF when The Husband declared his intention to have cold cereal the same night (unaware of my Dickensian dinner) and I told him he couldn't because there wasn't enough milk for breakfast.

I lived on cold cereal as a kid. I probably ate more cereal than any other food item as I was a picky eater and my mother didn't have the fortitude to challenge me. Water goes around the rock and milk flowed liberally into a bowl of Frosted Flakes or Cocoa Puffs.

Given my overindulgence in the flake food group, I rarely eat cereal as an adult. To decide upon cereal as a viable option for my evening meal is a sign of total decline in spirit, imagination, energy and self worth. My father often ate cold cereal for supper. He would state his intentions with the subtext being "no one really cares enough to cook me a dinner so I must settle for this." Sitting at the kitchen island eating Wheaties in the fading light, I was aware things were spiraling downwards.

I don't know if I have a sinus infection or a dental problem, but I have had a low, dull headache and irritation in the upper part of my mouth for the better part of a week. My tendency is to ignore discomfort and hope it wanders away. But today I accepted defeat and went to see the doctor. Of course, she couldn't see if there is anything wrong with my sinuses so I am to take an antibiotic and if afterwards I still feel bad, then I need to see the dentist.

By now, all I can think about is my head - or more exactly the left side of my head which is feeling progressively number and achier with each passing minute. (Did I mention that while I avoid going to the doctor, I do not avoid worrying about the multitude things that could be wrong with me ... much like I worry about my car whenever a new noise becomes apparent.) I wanted relief and eagerly arrived at Walgreen's for the possibility of relief that is my prescription.

Of course, the clerk informed me there was nothing in the system for me. He proceeded to tell me I hadn't received anything from that location in over a year and a half - basically implying I was woefully misguided, as if I were Miss Havisham arriving to collect her wedding invitations. I told him indeed that was the last time I needed a prescription filled. He then searched the general database and no, nothing for me anywhere.

At this point hot and bothered - bundled in woolens, down jacket and purse bearing down upon shoulders weakened by holiday fatigue and woe - I started to crumble. "Can you call my doctor's office?" Of course I didn't have the phone number in my cell phone. I could barely remember the name of the location and for a moment I couldn't even remember the doctor's name.

I mean, it had been over a year and a half, right?

That is when the tears started to roll ...

He gave me the number and I tried calling only to be told the doctor was now at lunch and I would have to wait until she got back in to straighten things out. Clutching my cellphone with snot (hopefully infected) dribbling out my nose, I waddled out of Walgreen's and now am home waiting for a call back.

And that is my holiday wish: that my sinuses that are the cause of my general malaise and discontent and not a decaying tooth which would have to wait until Monday to be seen by my dentist. Oh, and that the doctor will call back sometime today? I mean, when I finally decide I need to see a doctor then know I damn well want my drugs - NOW! (I've been waiting now for over 2 1/2 hours ... still no call.)






All of which is to say ... I am proceeding one step at a time. Head down, just inch forward - pause - repeat. Oh, and it's been snowing here which is really lovely but adding to my headache and fatigue as I gingerly make my way about on icy sidewalks to walk the dog and then crawl into my car and clutching the steering wheel creep about on slushy streets.

Thank god for online holiday shopping.

Two books I meant to mention in my review of inspiring titles are children's books but I love the message that they share about creativity and making art. They both are by Peter Reynolds and the first one is called The Dot and the second one is Ish. Cowgirl and I love both books and find they inspire us equally.








Yes, there have been pockets of inspiration ... as a reminder of better days ... some play from last weekend - my barnyard is filling up while Cowgirl is working on holiday themed pieces for school.

a very BIG pink pig

cowgirl's holiday tree with presents ... a project for her Chinese class

for some reason, in Moose's fantasy life he is French!

For a healthy dose of real inspiration, I encourage you to check out the beautiful series "The Love Gift" being offered over on Studio Margot. (I have contributed a piece that will be up sometime this month.) It is like an advent calendar of love and joy!






I may be down ... but I'm not out (just not having as much fun as my girl ... but holding out hope for the drugs ...)

being seen

me by Cowgirl

I wasn't planning on writing this ... I am in the midst of packing for yes, another quickie art retreat trip and I am feeling a tad guilty for all this pleasure heaped upon my faded and chipped plate. But as I ready myself - lists for the Husband made, plans for Cowgirl in place, dog walker for Mr. Moose scheduled - I struggle with the anxiety that travel and new places and faces evokes within me. This gathering will be much smaller than Squam and while I thrive on intimate, I also squirm at the sense there will be no place for me to hide.

Being seen is uncomfortable for me and yet I crave it. For so much of my life I felt unseen and misunderstood although in hindsight I have to wonder if perhaps I let myself be misrepresented? When the name-callers bruised my tender child self did I speak back? Of course not. I gathered all their words and wounds and patched together a crazy coat of false identity. The task of my adult life has been to shift through all the notions I have about myself and toss away those that are no longer true or blatantly false.

My word for 2011 is Shine and I'm not sure how well I've embraced that concept. There still is a layer of scum clouding my perception of myself. But I had a mini-epiphany at Squam while listening to Jen Lee talk about the care and keeping of our creative selves. Hearing Jen tell her about her experiences, I realized that it is impossible for me to truly see another until I can clearly see myself. And part of that process is putting forth for others my true, shiny, vulnerable and uniquely-flawed-and-therefore-beautiful-and-imperfectly-perfect self.

There is a vulnerability in letting others see me; we talked about this in Jen's workshop. It's scary stuff to put one's tender self out there and perhaps be ridiculed or disregarded. But to hold back is to devalue myself. I think the thing about being seen is it hurts more when we refuse to see, honor and befriend ourselves.

me - holding onto Squam

So as I pack, I am aware of not packing a mask or a uniform or a disguise - not to be dwelling upon who it is I want others to think I am, but to just be myself. Comfortable, eccentric, sometimes mismatchy, but cherished, honored, resilient and wiser for all my experiences. Still unfolding, still in process and hopefully sitting more comfortably in the mystery of not knowing, but trusting. Trusting myself to be my own best friend.

quietly giddy

Don't you know, I just LOVE surprises. And yesterday I received this special surprise from a fellow blogger, Marisa at Getting Back to Basics:

Thank you Marisa! This means so very much to me. I've come to think of this blog as my little garden where I come to sow some seeds and experiment in with new plant forms. But mostly this is my place and time to dig deep within myself in an attempt to gain greater clarity and presence within my life. That others may come here and find something of value, if only a place to rest awhile, makes my heart shine.

The requirements for accepting this award are as follows:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award.
2. Pass this award along to 15 bloggers you've recently discovered and whom you think are fantastic!
3. Contact the bloggers you've picked and let them know about the award.
4. Share seven (7) things about yourself.

Well, Marisa paved the way by being a rule breaker in that she chose to list seven bloggers. I have to confess, in all my wanderings amongst blog links, I am terrible about keeping track of where I've been! I also have a phobia about signing up for too many things and rarely become an official "follower" of a blog. In fact, I confess, I have no idea how that works or what it really means. And yet, I am fascinated and thrilled when I see new followers appearing on my blogpage! I fear I am some Pied Piper leading others astray! So, the requirement to list 15 blogs is a tad daunting, probably because I assume I am always the last one to discover a treasures others have know about for years!

So here are some "recent" discoveries that excite my senses, stimulate my brain and make me wish I had done/written/said what these bloggers have birthed into the blog o'sphere. I know I will think of more after posting, but frankly this was a daunting task!

ART YoWZa http://artyowza.wordpress.com/

Dosfishes http://dosfishes.blogspot.com/

Julie's Stamp Art http://www.juliesstampart.blogspot.com/

Cottage Garden Studios http://rowenleaf.blogspot.com/

Journey to Spirit through Art & Creativity http://deldino.blogspot.com/

Postcards from Wildwood http://postcardsfromwildwood.wordpress.com/

52 Steps http://fiftytwosteps.blogspot.com/

Moospeare's Book Around the Corner http://moospeare.blogspot.com/

Sara's Virtual Notebook http://vbook.blog.soulspackle.com/

Art Asana http://elizalynntobin.blogspot.com/

Dirty Footprints Studio http://www.dirtyfootprints-studio.com/

Julie Unplugged http://juliejordanscott.typepad.com/

Serendipity http://tofallorstumbleupon.blogspot.com/

Okay, so seven things about me - What do you want to know?

1. I share this as a warning: I have a phobia about Barbie Dolls. Cannot touch them, can barely look at them without feeling my skin crawl. Has something to do with the plastic and the nylon hair plugs. Thank goodness, Cowgirl doesn't like dolls! (Even My Little Pony creeps me out!)

2. I take my shoes off whenever I can. I live barefoot or in my slippers at home. Most of my shoes are some kind of clog or slip on shoe for quick and easy removal.

3. I do not like to put my head underwater. I have a hard time coordinating swimming with breathing (a fact my husband cannot fathom given I am a yoga teacher and teach breathing techniques!) I also cannot dance and sing at the same time (well, I can but it does not look or sound pretty!)

4. I apparently mutter a lot to myself as Cowgirl is constantly asking me "what did you say?"

5. One of my favorite smells is grass on my dog's paws. Not so much our current dog, Moose, who does not go outside unless I am with him, but our previous dog Bandit who was never more content than when he could roam his yard all day long. I would breath in deep the smell of sun, dirt, grass and dogginess on those paws and it was intoxicating. I miss that smell. (A side fact to this is I have a very acute sense of smell.)

6. I could probably eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch every day. I did, in fact, eat only pb&j from the age of 8 to 12. (I also used to chew steak and then spit it out ... go figure I became a vegetarian.)

7. The one thing that drives me crazy is when people start to say something to me and then go "oh, never mind." I mind and I want to know!

Now, go and have an inspired day!

Checking in

I am so tired, I can barely hold my head up. So here is a visual of life lately:

My mom is moved and now the unpacking begins (cue mournful groans)




I am still knitting ... and knitting



I had my last Chinese class of the semester and we learned how to make dumplings




And still, there is so much I want to do in these last few days ... I love the holidays and it pains me to leave anything off my list. I am accepting that this is all unfolding in the perfect way for me and I am trying to relish every moment. None-the-less, the long lines are killing me even though they are teaching me yet again about patience and how to find contentment in every moment.

I know I am not alone in this self defeating behavior, so for those of you not on the Universe's email list, here is a timely reminder I received and which I want to share with you who are standing by me in my moment of madness. Thank you Universe, you totally get me.

Just wanted to remind you, Lisa, that sometimes success is better measured in smiles received, giggles heard, and hands held, than in dollars earned, deadlines met, and kilos shed. And I must say, you've done well for yourself. Yeah us! The Universe

Happy Holidays to us all. I hope we all are finding time between waiting in lines and wrapping presents and baking cookies to savor the wonder and magic of this season. Here are my moments ...






Life is pretty grand, isn't it? Tell me about your elves and moments of magic and let's keep this party rolling.

And happy snow days ahead ...

Holiday Lights

Thanksgiving dinner is already a blur as I feel myself being catapulted into the holiday season. As if a beacon were lit for all to see, our neighbors emerged en masse from their dens to festoon their houses in twinkle lights, wreaths, Santa and reindeer displays and one skiing polar bear (who startled me the first morning of his appearance when, in the predawn darkness while I was walking Moose, he seemingly rose up on hind legs to stalk me.) The husband, for whom Dickens surely would have fashioned Scrooge if he was writing today, has always resisted excessive holiday decorations. And by excessive, I mean anything beyond one wreath and one tree. So I was a tad surprised when we headed out one night to view the light displays and Cowgirl declared she wanted some lights for our house. Without any of the usual irony in his voice, the husband immediately suggested we go out the next day to buy some lights.



And so here we are with the puniest of light displays in the neighborhood but hey, its a start. (Meanwhile, our neighbor across the street spent the entire week rigging his Cirque du Soleil display, the entire block dimming when he finally flipped the switch on.) I took the dog out last night for a tour and even though a cold wind blew, I was warmed by the excitement of our neighbors and their clear joy in celebrating the season. I got thinking about the magic of this time of year, the memories of holidays as a child when anticipation blended with a confidence and a certainty that Santa would pull through for me and find that treasured Fun Flower making set (complete with plug in heater, bottled goo, molds and tongs to lift hot pans of melting plastic bits up to be cooled; yes I was 5 - Cowgirl's age - when Santa brought me this) or other delights of a child's mind.

But today, I am caught in a more melancholy mood. Ghosts of Christmases past seem to be swirling around me. This time of year has always been a soup pot full of conflicting emotions. There is a hope the holidays hold out to us all along with a tinge of the bittersweet as toys break or fail to live up to our expectations and post holiday season brings about business as usual. I am also remembering how the holidays seem to offer us a sense that magic can occur, that change is possible, our lives transformed by Belief and New Beginnings. In high school my bravest moment occurred just before a holiday break.

To put this all in context - I was a geek in high school. I started out overweight and then struggled with an eating disorder. I had good friends, but I always felt very alone. I survived on a series of crushes and hoped that one day, someone would notice me. There was one boy who I had know for years who circled in and out of my crush rotation. We had been friendly, but that was it. This one year, I was overcome by the impeding loss of this object of my affection that school vacation would bring. Emboldened by the knowledge it would be weeks before he saw me again, I muttered some kind of invitation to call me over the break while we were at our lockers. Whatever I said was probably much vaguer than that, and I must have bolted away like a rabbit after uttering my cryptic comment. And yet ... I still waited that entire break hoping for the phone to ring, believing my message was understood and that my secret Santa would bring me my ultimate gift.

Needless to say, my high school days were dateless. This incident is book-ended in my memory with probably my most shameful moment when a boy did call to ask me out and in my panic and horror I created the most ridiculous lie about a boyfriend in Connecticut (?!) I'm not sure where I am going here. I guess I have been thinking about how the holidays invite us to dream big and the challenge is to continue to believe long after the tinsel and twinkle lights come down. We allow our possibilities to be a little wilder, more far reaching - that is the excitement and the daring this seasons seems to offer. But to marry Believing with action, that seems to be a more fruitful way of approaching things. Toys will break, dreams will look flatter in real life, but how to continue to breathe life into them long after the fruitcake has been packed away, well that is what I am pondering these days.

My Life, Right Now, As Is

Today's Wishcasting asks "What do you wish to Embrace?"

Very simply, I wish to embrace my life as it is in this moment. To truly know and feel Contentment, or Santosha as described by the yogis. To be as I am and not to look outside myself for happiness. Try as I might to fully inhabit the Now, I still feel in the pit of my stomach an anxious yearning feeling for something more. A je ne sais quoi about my life that has wrapped itself around my neck like a scarf I seem to wear all the time; a "yes, I am engaged in this BUT I wish it could last longer, be fuller, be freer ..." I'm not even sure what. I just am aware that I am living my life in small blocks of time and there is this fractured quality to my world. And as a part time worker, full time mother, part time teacher, part time dabbler in many fields well, what else could my life be?

So I wish to let go of feeling anxious about it all. Right now my life is a wonderful blend of contrasts: busy and still, chaotic and structured, forward moving and stuck in the mud, muddled and inspired. Some days I am amazed by what spills out of my pen, brush and finger tips; other days I feel myself thrashing against the constraints of family and work life, barely able to make toast much less magic. But it is all necessary - the gaps, the pauses, the blank days providing the nourishment and incentive for the days of rich, full bodied living.

And most of all, I want to embrace my perspective as being worthy of expression. There are days I can barely contain myself, I am so excited by the inspiring words and images available for my perusal here on the web; other days I despair and wonder why I would even consider adding my doodles, snapshots and crazy chatter to the world. Then I watch my Cowgirl painting and I remember creating is an act by which we stake our claim upon this world and our life. We were here, this is what we saw, felt, believed. And we had a great time doing it.





My life, right now, as it is, is pretty amazing and I want to be sure to let everyone know this is so ...

... especially myself.



(A quick AED update: I've finished another felted tote bag, started some knitted wrist warmers, have a new canvas awaiting paints and collage materials while my other canvas sits quietly in my yoga room. I am waiting to see if it calls for anything else or if it is complete. I did add a blue jay feather I found to it and it feels about done. Brown on top, springy to the touch ♥ Am off to paint right now ...)

Digging Out

Hello ... is anybody there? Pardon the muddle below ...

I feel a bit Rip Van Winklesque after this week of being ill, stuck at home and stuck indoors due to continual rainy, drizzly cold weather. I've made brief forays out of the bed, only to run back shrieking as the house is resembling Miss Havisham's mansion complete with a dark haired version of Estella. I'm not sure who I am in all this mess, but I'm hoping it is Pip.

On top of - or perhaps because of - this enforced pause in my life, I am feeling utterly overwhelmed, frustrated, tired and defeated. Are you glad you joined me here? It just seems like my life has run into a log jam and I am not sure how to begin clearing the clutter. And clutter is the word du jour. In less than two months time we will be moving my mother cross country and into an apartment in a retirement facility near to our home. We have talked about this for years now; we've been planning, preparing and getting ourselves ready for this change. And yet ...

And yet the reality of it all has been settling upon my shoulders and I am feeling very wobbly with the weight of it all. The transfer of roles from daughter to caregiver/decision maker is not a graceful one, especially for me. I realized I have lived my entire life far FAR away from my family for various reasons, but a major one being a need to enforce healthy boundaries. I love my mother and we have a wonderful relationship, but the boundary between where she ends and I begin is a blurry one. I am not blaming her; it just is what it is. We were very close while I was growing up and that closeness gave me a great sense of being loved, nurtured and supported. It also led to confusion regarding my emotions, my sense of what is mine to deal with and what is not my responsibility. The biggest muddle has been determining what are my dreams, desires and beliefs versus what I have absorbed from her.

A huge stressor for me is clutter. I struggle with the daily onslaught of mail, household debris and the infinite number of objects Cowgirl seems to attract to her like a magnet grabbing paperclips. I try to recycle, reuse or give away but at some point, the pile is so high only the trash can will do. And I feel guilty about the waste. Well, that will be nothing compared to the Mount Everest of stuff that will be shipped out here and left for us to shift through. My husband just spent 4 days helping my mom clean out papers and boxes of stuff still packed from her move 4 years ago. At 84, she is just not able or willing to do very much now. I don't blame her and being so far away, we have to just deal with it on this end. But to say I am dreading the task is a gross understatement. In addition to guilt over waste, there will be a Whitman's sampler box of emotions pouring through me as I work through the debris of my life. That's what it will be and more: 60 years of my parents' life as a couple and then a family all saved in boxes, drawers, filing cabinets and more.

I am trying to put things into perspective and adjust my attitude to one of acceptance and perhaps hopefulness for a chance to heal, understand and put behind me some demons that have apparently been nesting inside my head for far too long. This too shall pass ... but let's be frank: it will be a bitch, no two ways about it.

So it's been a major pity party in my psyche ... my mind is filled with things I want to be doing and yet I am too tired and feeling grossly lacking in ability and inspiration. Yup, those gremlins who feast upon creative insecurities are like tourists belly up at the casino buffet. All You Can Eat. Stay All Day. For some silly reason, I have been feeling like I should be further along - whatever that means - in terms of my finding my style or vision when it comes to photography and then I look at various photo pools and rather than inspired, I feel despondent. This is something that means a lot to me. A LOT. I have found my way back to my passion for taking pictures, for capturing a moment of being in that small window of the picture frame, sharing my experience and my understanding of my life, my world. And yet I feel I have fallen down somewhere, lost my stride, lost my confidence. I rationally know each day is an opportunity to learn more and see more but I hear those gremlins taunting me "who are you kidding?"

I started this all off with Digging Out and it sure seems like I am wallowing here ... but for me part of my process is to truthfully name what it is that seeks to trip me up. Seeking guidance, I drew an Oracle card and received the message: Be Yourself. I drew an animal card and picked Ant, representing Patience and Trust. I am also reminded that yoga teaches there are common obstacles that arise on the path to Self Realization, and oh my, guess what they are? Disease, dullness, doubt, lack of enthusiasm, false perception, failure to reach firm ground and slipping from ground gained (also on this list is carelessness and sensuality.) I then read this and find some comfort in this description: Many obstacles are purposely put on the way for us to pass through. They are there to make us understand and express our own capacities. We all have that strength, but we don't seem to know it. We seem to need to be challenged and tested in order to understand our own capacities. (Swami Satchidananda)

So while I am tempted to lay down and give up, today I will pick up my camera and keep moving, keep trying. Oh, and I did clean out one bag of clutter from Cowgirl's room, put some laundry in, started dinner and yes, this week I will tackle the cleaning. And my sense of smell is slowly coming back and just in time as one of my etsy purchases arrived in the mail ... yes, 20 small bottles of delightfully rich, exotic, evocative perfumes. I vow to wear a new one every day. What do you gremlins have to say about that?!

When the gremlins arrive, get outside for some Inspiration ♥

Transformation

This week's project on the Goddess Creativity ecourse is about transformation and specifically letting go of what holds me back from living my dreams. (Okay, this is my spin on the assignment.) I've known it is all about attitude, choosing happiness, choosing in this moment to relish the gifts and opportunities present rather than wallowing in fear, doubt or worries. So how fitting I receive this email from the Universe this week:

Tell you what, Lisa: If you can get happy right now, in spite of any
problems, challenges, and circumstances that now seem to taunt you, I'll take
care of those problems, challenges, and circumstances, as well as "ever-after."

Agh-hmm... Please, do the math, take the bait, and never look back.

The Universe

I am finding something has been shifting for me ... an easing up of the worries, a settling into the pleasure of pure play and creating and a slight, ever so slight, opening up of space and time for me to do the things I love. I was reflecting upon my life in the past month and that perspective allowed me to see that while I may feel there is never enough time or energy to "do it all," indeed I do pack a lot of living into my days. I tend not to give myself enough credit.



So today I am taking my transformation arrow, loaded with prayer slips of all that I want to release to the goddess/Universe and will gift it back to the earth. I am excited to really feel the layers being dropped as I move into the life I want to be living. This weekend I will teach my first kids art camp and rather than nervous, I am excited and relaxed about the day. I know I cannot control what will come up, so I am just preparing myself for the adventure. This, my friends, is not my usual way of operating. And it feels good!



A bit of a hodge podge here ... but I also wanted to share Cowgirl's pictures from her birthday party. Sometimes I am brilliant. I gave her a disposable camera and she ran around her party taking pictures. When I got them back, I was so impressed by her array of images. She really took a nice variety of shots that captured a day at the pumpkin patch.

A personal favorite: her view of her daddy. With his head chopped off I can't help but think she is visually cutting out his mouth and his words.




This is was hands down the happening spot: the baby chick house. Yes, after handling all those fluffy chicks, the kids then came out for snacks and cake. Ummm ... germy goodness!


At the last minute, I splurged on doggy themed party items. It was money well spent when I saw this ...


And for any of you having gone through Unravelling ecourses, you can imagine my pride when a feet and shadow shot was captured!


All my pictures from the party were of the kids. It was such a gorgeous day, I am happy she got this shot. Somehow the tilted perspective seems appropriate.



A final portrait of the photographer herself. Yes, I am one proud momma!




I am grateful for the gifts of creativity that both my daughter and myself are exploring; I am inspired by her images to keep on going; I am trusting the Universe to take care of the small stuff and leave me time for the juicy good bits.

Phew ... a marathon of topics! Off to bury my stick. What adventures does your weekend have in store for you?