New Challenges

Emboldened by the spirit of adventure from a fellow blogger, I am offering my contribution to the notion of trying something new each week. I love the idea of pushing my boundaries wider and wider. With all the wonderful blogs and websites seducing me away from housework and current projects, I am continually reading about some new recipe or art project or technique that I think would be cool to try but which gets stashed way far back in the cluttered closet of my mind.

So here is what I did over the weekend.


Glue batik t-shirts. (And yes, given my bashing of Valentine's day, the irony of me making big heart shirts in celebration of Cupid's day is not lost upon me.)

These were so ridiculously easy and fun to make, I cannot believe I haven't done this sooner. I suppose I've spared family and friends a batik filled Christmas season, but watch out! Easter is coming and this is perfect for Spring themed projects.

The instructions are easy peasy and found here on That Artist Woman's blog. I bought inexpensive cotton t-shirts at Michael's craft store and use acrylic craft paints that I had on hand for other projects. I cut up some old cereal boxes and slide the cardboard between the front and the back of the shirts so the glue and paint would not bleed through. I did the initial glue "drawing" and let the pieces dry overnight. The next day I set Cowgirl up with water, a brush and paints and let her go at it. She put the paint on pretty thick while the directions have you water the acrylics down a bit. I helped her wet patches that were too dry to blend properly, but she got the hang of mixing the water with the paint. In fact, her shirt came out much more vibrant and fun than my more restrained piece! I don't know how the color will hold up to repeated washing; I will probably wash her shirt in cold water or hand wash as I am sure the colors will blend over time in warm water.




I love the idea of making seasonal banners and have loads of ideas for future projects. Maybe some napkins and a tablecloth? I used cookie cutter forms for my heart design and I can see gingerbread men for a holiday table setting.

Thanks Jane for the nudge! Now, if I could only figure out how to get paid to stay home and do all these great projects swimming around my head and the blog-o-sphere! If you want more ideas, just head over to Jane's blog for ideas!

Weekly Reflection (week 6): Hearts Abound

What memories first come to mind when you think about Valentine's Day?









Originally I was thinking about first crushes for this week's reflection. Somehow that morphed into memories of Valentine's Day as a child and kindergarten memories. (Okay, so no big stretch of the imagination here as Cowgirl will be attending kindergarten next year and we have been talking about cards for her classmates.) When I think about Valentines, what immediately comes to mind are all the school art projects where we decorated a shoebox brought in from home with construction paper hearts, paper doilies, glitter and stickers. Thank goodness our parents had a steady supply of empty shoe boxes!

For my first school Valentine's celebration we made large heart shaped enveloped painted red and colored with magic markers. Sometime during the day, cards would be placed inside the envelope which we could not open until we got home. Even though I had to give a Valentine to every student in the class, I somehow believed that was not the general case and I worried about who might or might not give me a card. That kindergarten year, I had my first crush (excluding crushes on t.v. characters like Robin on Batman or David Cassidy - yikes!) on a boy named Mario. I grew up in a predominately Irish/Italian community and even at 5 I somehow knew a boy named Mario was an exotic creature. I believe his parent or parents were Spanish, his skin was caramel colored rather than olive or freckled (the norm for most of my classmates) and he had a mole on his cheek. He also seemed tall to me, although I have no idea what constitutes tall at 5 or 6 years of age. He was a nice boy and we went to school with each other for all 13 of our public school years. I honestly cannot remember him ever saying a single word to me.

Thinking about my 5 year old self, I can remember in great detail that kindergarten year. Our teacher was Mrs. Wolf and she played songs for us on the upright piano in the classroom. We had to bring in mats from home for nap time and I coveted the hot pink shaggy mat one girl, Michelle, had. My mat was a sad cast-off thin terry cloth bathroom mat that I remember as being a dull gray. I hated that mat, but I never told my mother anything about the mats and the apparent social hierarchy that they represented.

I also remember how every day before school ended we had to pick out the activity we wanted to do the next day. Mrs. Wolf would write our choices down in her black notebook and the next morning we would be asked if we remembered what we had selected. Every night I worried about forgetting tomorrow's task and I dreaded her pulling out that notebook. For some reason, my favorite activity involved pouring rice through a funnel (into what? I cannot remember!) or a similar task involved dried beans.

As I recall all these memories, I am seeing the seeds for many years of social anxiety and pressure were planted in that first school year. The desire to fit in, be liked, please others and do well were instilled through those most mundane events. What I wonder is if any evidence of my increasing discomfort was apparent or did I hide it from my mother? I want to believe I will be able to sniff out any such dis-ease in Cowgirl if and when the pressure sets in, but will I? Is that all a necessary part of growing up and learning to navigate and define what really matters for oneself or is it something to be guarded against and to be avoided if at all possible?

I've wandered off subject but somehow it seems right given the topic of Valentine's Day. A lovely holiday in sentiment, it rarely lives up to all the hype. Just like those boxes of Necco candy hearts - it is colorful, full of hearts and hope but somehow chalky and bland when you get down to it. Even when you get a Valentine from your crush, you can never really believe what the card says. But I am an optimist and every year I celebrate because I do believe in Love. Just not the kind that can be summed up by a small pastel candy heart.




And yes, if my daughter needs a nap mat for school, I would let her pick one out. Shaggy blue in all likelihood.

Leaning into Trust

If I had to pick the one thing I've consistently been working towards and struggling with, it is a deeper connection with my intuitive self. Recently, I picked up Clarissa Pinkola Estés Women Who Run With the Wolves, a book I bought way back when everyone was reading it. Based upon the bookmark still in the book, I never finished it. I started reading it again this past weekend and it speaks to me now in ways I realize I was in no way ready to comprehend when I was younger. The one gift of getting older is re-discovering art, books, words that reveal insights visible only to eyes that have seen and experienced more of Life.

Reading Estés, I am uncovering where I am in the process of reclaiming the gifts I believed where closed off to me. Cultivating the ability to listen to and then trust my intuition is my major task in learning to believe in myself as a creative, competent, loveable and loving person. It is comforting to read that one never loses one's intuitive abilities; it is the connection to one's inner wisdom that is weak and needs to be rebuilt. But there still has to be in place some sort of trusting of that voice. My problem has always been discerning which is the voice of fear scaring me away from my soul's dreams, and intuition which is working on my behalf to keep me safe and on course.

So I read this passage with senses alerted: "There is no greater blessing mother can give her daughter than a reliable sense of the veracity of her own intuition. Intuition is handed from parent to child in the simplest ways: 'You have good judgment. What do you think lies hidden behind all this?'" As a daughter and now as a mother, this transmission of trust leaps out at me as The Task that proceeds all others. How to recreate this transmission for myself is the question.

I've read about strengthening intuition by starting small. Driving to work, I gently inquire "which route should I take today?" And then I ventured off my usual route and land smack in the middle of an accident and huge traffic jam. My problem is, I'm not clear as to which voice speaks first and like a dog sitting between two toys, I'm conflicted as to which impulse to act upon.

But I am reminded of the one time when I stayed the course, even when all signs appeared to be telling me to change direction. Thinking about Cowgirl and her centrality in my life, I realize I dwell on her so much because for so long I tried to convince myself that parenting was not the right path for me. When I was younger, I would say "one day I want to have a child ... just not now." "Not now" stretched out over years and then I began to believe maybe being a mother was not a role I wanted to take on. I was teaching yoga, deep into my own studies, loved to travel and I needed and craved solitude on a regular basis. A child just would not fit into my life.

Thankfully, there was a teeny tiny part of me that recognized the deep sadness whenever I would say "I don't think so" in response to the question "do you want to have children?" Wiser women recognized the fear and doubt in my eyes because that is exactly what held me back from embracing the notion of motherhood. I can point to one conversation over tea where the seeds of believing were planted in my consciousness by a dear friend who talked about how parenting would transform me and my practice.

A few years later (because it does take me that long to let trust to sink in) I found myself unexpectedly pregnant. Here was the sign I was waiting for! The universe was telling me the direction to move. Except a few weeks later I miscarried. So what now? Looking for signs, I would say I was being directed towards my original course. Except I ignored those "signs" and decided to follow my heart. And that path was like wading forward into the ocean, wave after wave trying to knock me over. Each step required me to stand strong, affirming "yes, I want this" when everything seemed bent on dissuading me from my dream.

I am realizing intuition is not always a voice that I will hear in my head. Intuition, for me, comes when I act before thinking. I believe the impetus comes from my heart. It is a feeling inside that directs me to impulsively sign up for a course that I've just heard about; say "yes" to a spontaneously offered invitation; run after a person I just met in store and invite them to a concert; lock eyes with a dog or cat and declare "that one!"; or pick up the phone and ask for an application to adopt. Connecting to my intuition is like trying to hold onto a soap bubble: try too hard and it pops. I have to stay soft, open and relaxed.

When I think about some of these moments when I was guided by my intuition, I think "those were a good decisions; what lies hidden behind all of it?" In ever instance, a force greater than myself moved me to act. Looking at my daughter, I realize the only thing that could have conquered my immense fear and doubt was Love. I focus upon her in my art and my writing because she is the most tangible sign of my living Fearlessly. In remembering that act, I am connected with my inner Warrior. I recognize my power and I know I will cultivate a healthy relationship with my inner sage.

Most of all, I hope to teach my daughter to hear and trust hers.

above is a project for the Radiant Goddess ecourse. Together, Cowgirl & I painted with our fingers our expression of Radiance.

The stories in my head

A painfully appropriate Wishcasting prompt for this week is shining a floodlight into the rat's maze that is my mind these days. Today's question asks: What story do you wish to live or let go of?

This one is too easy. I want to let go of the story that gets cued every time I find myself part of a group. This happens over and over again: I find myself orbiting around a group of similarly minded women (and it always is women), joining in if not bringing the group together in the first place. I get involved, I get excited, I open up those tender places inside me and then ever-so-gradually, like arsenic entering into my system a drop a day, I begin to feel discounted, unrecognized, tossed aside and forgotten, a childhood teddy bear sitting alone and no longer needed.

As a child I always felt like an outsider, rushing towards a group of kids, desperately wanting to be invited to play. As a teenager I never believed all the pieces of me could be revealed to others. I learned early on I do better in small groups or gatherings where I can have more intimate contact with others. I learned the hard way not to open up too fast; that a degree of desperation was conveyed by pushing things too fast, too soon. I was greedy for a deep friendship and willing to toss myself to anyone who would engage with me. I've work with all of this "stuff", recognizing I seek out others who represent what I wish to embrace within myself. I've turned inward and sought to befriend myself first, acknowledging and loving all my random bits and eccentricities that make up me.

Still, there is obviously more work to be done. I recently found myself feeling, once again, overlooked and forgotten. What I am learning is that these feelings, these triggers are a sign for me to dig in a little deeper and to spend time nurturing my wounded inner child. I need to honor her story, her pain and I need to help her rewrite the ending to this story. Because I know the only one who does not love or appreciate me enough is myself.

I want to let go of this fractured fairy tale of an unloveable maiden, fearing rejection, cloaked in the mask of an outsider and hiding her true identity from the world. I see her tossing off her courtly garments that represent a plea for acceptance and donning instead the knight's armor as she heads out of cloistered spaces to seek adventure. Her trust in her talents and gifts emboldened her to direct her steed to where ever her heart desires. She can be a friend to all because her best friend is a secure heart.

(I'm not sure why I chose to open with a picture of my kitties, except they remind me of the world of friends I created as a child and they convey to me the sense of being cherished and loved. Aren't they adorable? Susie and Tom Kitty, say "Meow!")

Weekly Reflection (Week 5): Maps

What would the Map to your Dreams look like? What directions might it provide?









Into the best of plans wanders a sweet, old, deaf stray lab who lovingly ate up much of my afternoon while I waited for his owner to come over to come pick him up. Chester was wandering around my house for awhile, collarless and lost until I went outside to walk Moose. Chester tried to join us even though Moose was less than welcoming (unless bulging eyes, incessant barking and snarling are welcoming) so I finally sequestered myself and my new shaggy friend in the garage while I called the humane society and then waited for the owners to call me.

A happy ending to a wet, soggy bunch of tails ... but plans for the afternoon now have to be rewritten. Which is in keeping with the theme for this week's reflection. I started out thinking "how would I map out the route to my heart's desires?" and the process of making the map, writing the directions and adjusting for several mistakes (another reason I love gesso - the painter's white out) was very similar to the arrival of Chester into my day. (Can you tell I just love his name? He looked a little rough around the edges and then I learned from the owner her daughter had tried to paint him and in attempting to clean him up, some fur got chopped. So he was disheveled not from neglect, but from undergoing an artistic make-over!)

So my map is not so much a series of concrete steps towards a final goal, but a listing of the attitudes and outlook essential for any traveler braving the journey to find their heart's desire. So do tell, what would your map say? For that matter, I wonder what Chester might say about his journey?

(directions on my map read: be still, listen and receive guidance; transform ideas into do-able steps; allow creativity to blossom and flow; artful living every day; projects: start where I am ... just do it!; celebrate my life through Art; keep perspective: it's for me anyway; remember to Shine in whatever I do; savor the journey (it's the best part); The Treasure: discover what I am seeking is already inside me; a cherished creative)

Disappointments

The thing I find hardest about parenting is those times I have to disappoint Cowgirl. Tonight we were going to bring her cousin up to spend the night and to watch Cowgirl while we went out to dinner with some friends. I know every book on relationships and family stresses the need for the parents to have some regular alone time. Lying in bed exhausted at night does not count. But in all honesty, it is hard to add one more task to my weekly list and procuring a babysitter, making arrangements with other couples who have equally chaotic timetables, is not something I joyfully nor regularly take on. So this was going to be a special night for all. And a lot of effort went into the preparations.

So naturally, disaster strikes this morning. To be precise, rather severe menstrual aliments have smote me down although now I am wondering if I haven't hit the daily double with some kind of flu? I struggled all day, hoping and trying to feel better so we could proceed with our plans but I am losing the battle and the war. The husband is out with Cowgirl, an hour away to pick up her beloved cousin and I just called with the bombshell, leaving him to deal with the emotional carnage. With any luck, I will have succumbed by the time they get home.

Cowgirl has handled other disappoints with a rare aplomb for a five year old, but still I am anxious. It will be hard for her to understand mommy really really wanted this evening to happen and it tears me up to have to let her down. I am understanding the deep conflict mothers face when placing their needs before their child's. It is necessary for my daughter to learn in order to care for others in any authentic way, one must tend to oneself first. I know this but still ...

And I know my task as her parent is to prepare her as best I can for the world at large. Disappointment is inevitable and an essential tool is learning to be adaptable and flexible. I am reminded that the Yoga Sutras teach us that a number of obstacles will arise on our journey: disease, dullness, doubt, carelessness, laziness, sensuality, false perception, failure to reach firm ground, and slipping from the ground gained (my favorite as it always happens!) To hold onto one's center when everything is trying to knock you over, that is a real gift. And what is that center? Well, I firmly believe it is Joy. To teach myself and my child how to remember this truth, even when disappointments and set backs make us miserable, is my mission. Happiness does not depend upon outside circumstances, but upon an interior attitude. In any given moment, we can make our way back to our rightful state. It is in our power. As someone so wisely said, "If you cannot change the situation, then change your attitude."

I just received the phone call that Cowgirl is spending the night with her cousins - a treat far greater than having just 1 cousin over at our house. See? The universe always provides! Meanwhile, I am snuggling under the covers and awaiting the dawn of a hopefully healthier day. Did I fail to mention I lapsed from my 12 days of healthy semi-raw eating to indulge in pizza? Hmm ... loss of ground gained? Certainly my body is letting me know she is not pleased. Pass me the gatorade and please, no more commercials with food in them! My stomach is on strike.

Awaken!

Today's Wishcasting asks: What do you wish to awaken?

I probably ought to ponder my responses before reading some of the others, because I am always nodding my head thinking "um, yes! That's my wish too!" And then I lumber back to my little blog, trying my best to listen to my heart and answer as authentically as possible. I fumble my way through and have often surprised myself by discovering deeper pockets of truth. But it is an effort.

I realize this challenges me because I doubt myself. So my honest wish is to awaken confidence and trust in myself and in my inner wisdom. I think it is very symbolic that even when I am driving to a new location, following the directions I've been given, I almost always come to a point where I doubt that I have understood everything and I think I may be lost. I am about to turn around when I realize I am okay, I am on course. I also realize that many of the major decisions in my life, the relationship ones (marriage, children, even my animals), there is a moment right after the commitment has been made where I panic and believe I may have made a mistake. What this really is about is a lack of confidence in myself to measure up to the responsibility.

I am done with doubt. I no longer want to be held back because I question myself or what my spirit is telling me. I want to cultivate my intuition AND I want to follow it with a light heart, an open mind and a confident attitude. No longer the Little Engine saying "I think I can, I think I can." I wish to be the engine cheerfully proclaiming "I thought I could, I thought I could!"