I had a most unusual dream last night. It's different from any dream I've ever had before. And I found it interesting (and creepy?) that it occurred on the eve before All Hallow's Eve'n.
Are there any dream analyzers out there who'd like to take a go at this one??
I am a man, with blonde hair, in my 30s or so. I am dressed in clothing from the 1800s or so - a puffy white blouse with long, flowing sleeves and a vest. I have committed a crime and have been sentenced to death by fire. I am in a holding tank of sorts - a place to wait for the execution of my sentence. I am with a whole bunch of other people who have committed crimes, too, and who are waiting to be executed. The people are all young, black boys - between the ages of 4 and 12. They all have bald heads, and are wearing tattered clothes. And they are all smiling and lovely. Big warm grins that light up their faces.
The next scene takes place inside a small, square, enclosed room. It is dark, there are no windows and no doors that I can see. One third of the room is a huge, roaring, hot, orange fire. The room is very hot. The other two thirds of the room is made up of a raised, wooden platform that sits on top of the fire. The platform is made of slabs of wood, that have gaps in between them, so that licks of fire come up from below. There's an assortment of blankets and old clothing that you can use to sit on to try and ease some of the heat.
I am in this room, still as the man, but in my own body, and dressed in a white tank top and a pair of jeans. I am barefoot. And it's very warm. There is a young, black boy with me. He can't be more than 8 or 9 years of age. His name is Articules, and he is the executioner. He sits on my lap, as I lean against the wall on top of a blanket. He straddles my lap, one leg on either side, and he's very happy and friendly. Laughing and giggly. He askes me how many times before it's my turn. I say 4. He asks if that includes or doesn't include my own turn, and I say that it doesn't. So he writes 5 times down on his piece of paper. I say to him, very gently, "Articules, I am having difficulty with the heat right now, but give me some time to adjust. And I suspect I'll be OK."
The next scene shows a letter that I've (as the man) written. It's written in an old-style English, using words like, "my betrothed", etc. The man's voice is narrating the letter he's written. (Like a voice over). He describes how one boy, Aristotle, was brought into the fire room for the day, as he was scheduled to be executed by fire the next morning. In the morning, we found his body, charred. He had made the choice to jump into the fire on his own, instead of being forced to do it.
And that's the end of the dream.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Winter is coming....
A field of geese
lifted off from the fields of straw-colored hay.
Like bombers in the sky;
on a mission,
in formation,
shadows against the sun.
The birds turned the world dark.
I could feel the humming their wings,
beating in synchronicity,
as they honked their calls
and passed overhead.
- lml, oct. 21
lifted off from the fields of straw-colored hay.
Like bombers in the sky;
on a mission,
in formation,
shadows against the sun.
The birds turned the world dark.
I could feel the humming their wings,
beating in synchronicity,
as they honked their calls
and passed overhead.
- lml, oct. 21
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Hunger
I wrote this a few days ago.
We all experience sadness in our lives, for various reasons. When I felt this way, I realized that I wanted to take a few minutes to experience how I was feeling. To listen to myself. To see what my bodymind was experiencing as I acknowledged my sadness. It felt therapeutic to put everything into words - and I find that I use words as my outlet. The mechanism of finding a sentence, a passage, a single combination of letters to describe my feelings, paint the portrait in my mind of how my body feels and how my soul wants - leaves me feeling very soothed and comforted.
"Why does my sadness have a taste?
Like a thirst
That only physical contact can quench.
I feel hoarse from screaming
Inside my heart.
The hunger pangs in my belly
Are echoed by a deep yearning
That feels as if it will only be abated
With a simple touch. A kiss. A hug.
An acknowledgement.
This hunger hurts me.
And the lingering sensation of salty tears on my lips
Makes me only crave more."
- lml
We all experience sadness in our lives, for various reasons. When I felt this way, I realized that I wanted to take a few minutes to experience how I was feeling. To listen to myself. To see what my bodymind was experiencing as I acknowledged my sadness. It felt therapeutic to put everything into words - and I find that I use words as my outlet. The mechanism of finding a sentence, a passage, a single combination of letters to describe my feelings, paint the portrait in my mind of how my body feels and how my soul wants - leaves me feeling very soothed and comforted.
"Why does my sadness have a taste?
Like a thirst
That only physical contact can quench.
I feel hoarse from screaming
Inside my heart.
The hunger pangs in my belly
Are echoed by a deep yearning
That feels as if it will only be abated
With a simple touch. A kiss. A hug.
An acknowledgement.
This hunger hurts me.
And the lingering sensation of salty tears on my lips
Makes me only crave more."
- lml
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Life as a festival
Life is a festival! Everything around us is bursting forth with possibility and opportunity and the fresh, full, ripeness of love and laughter. There is beauty everywhere, even in the moments when you feel challenged and when your being is dislocated from the events around you and the feelings inside you.
How to exfoliate yourself from suffering and pain? From feelings of sadness and despair? One way of approaching things is to look at how you hold on to things in your life. How tenacious a grasp is the one you have around the weight that is straddled across your shoulders, pushing you down? The weight that crushes your ribs, in an effort to disrupt your breathing?
Osho has some powerful words about that.
"Suffering is not holding you. You are holding suffering. When you
become good at the art of letting sufferings go, then you'll come to
realize how unnecessary it was for you to drag those burdens around with
you. You'll see that no one else other than you was responsible. The truth
is that existence wants your life to become a festival."
-Osho
How to exfoliate yourself from suffering and pain? From feelings of sadness and despair? One way of approaching things is to look at how you hold on to things in your life. How tenacious a grasp is the one you have around the weight that is straddled across your shoulders, pushing you down? The weight that crushes your ribs, in an effort to disrupt your breathing?
Osho has some powerful words about that.
"Suffering is not holding you. You are holding suffering. When you
become good at the art of letting sufferings go, then you'll come to
realize how unnecessary it was for you to drag those burdens around with
you. You'll see that no one else other than you was responsible. The truth
is that existence wants your life to become a festival."
-Osho
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Do you believe in ghosts?
Here's an interesting perspective about recordings and life energy from Howie Gelb...
It makes you wonder.
"And then another man there told of his friend who witnessed a regiment of roman soldiers marching down an ancient road. The image of these phantoms were only from the belly up because the ancient road they once walked on was now a meter below the current terrain.
I determined something there and then. The explanation of all this seemed to be that they were not ghosts at all. They were recordings. It made some sense, more so then ghosts anyway. It seems that there are more things on this magnetic earth that gets recorded then we know about. It has to do with repetitive actions. And if this occurs as such, then sometimes long after the cause of the actions are gone, the recording of the action remains.
Why not?
We have heard sound recordings on petroleum (vinyl), metals (wire), even paper coated with alloys, and of course magnetic tape. We have seen visual recording transmitted through the waves we are all ready saturated with, there on the TV. We live on a magnet. Sometimes things must get recorded on the elements around us.
What’s more is this would explain the difficulty in trying not to obsess over a lover that has left us. Or worse, a loved one who has died. After so many repetitive actions with this lover, their imprint on you is stuck. You have to suffer that recording long after they are gone. This will drive you mad of course, unless you acknowledge it as a recording. Then maybe you will figure you are lucky to have such capture."
It makes you wonder.
"And then another man there told of his friend who witnessed a regiment of roman soldiers marching down an ancient road. The image of these phantoms were only from the belly up because the ancient road they once walked on was now a meter below the current terrain.
I determined something there and then. The explanation of all this seemed to be that they were not ghosts at all. They were recordings. It made some sense, more so then ghosts anyway. It seems that there are more things on this magnetic earth that gets recorded then we know about. It has to do with repetitive actions. And if this occurs as such, then sometimes long after the cause of the actions are gone, the recording of the action remains.
Why not?
We have heard sound recordings on petroleum (vinyl), metals (wire), even paper coated with alloys, and of course magnetic tape. We have seen visual recording transmitted through the waves we are all ready saturated with, there on the TV. We live on a magnet. Sometimes things must get recorded on the elements around us.
What’s more is this would explain the difficulty in trying not to obsess over a lover that has left us. Or worse, a loved one who has died. After so many repetitive actions with this lover, their imprint on you is stuck. You have to suffer that recording long after they are gone. This will drive you mad of course, unless you acknowledge it as a recording. Then maybe you will figure you are lucky to have such capture."
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Experiencing Life
I like this! : )
"Would you rather eat an apple or understand it?
Either is better than being frightened by an apple.
It is the same with life - better to experience it." - Henry Palmer
"Would you rather eat an apple or understand it?
Either is better than being frightened by an apple.
It is the same with life - better to experience it." - Henry Palmer
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Musings from a Sanctuary
Journal entry from my divine weekend away...
I am here on a dock, not a foot from Lake Gilmour. At the home of some of my parents' friends. The sun is hot, it's almost noon, and I can feel the heat beneath my black bathing suit. Against my skin.
The lake is like liquid glass. Perfectly crafted. Reflecting the bold splashed of color - autumn touching the treetops and bushes with its kiss of red and orange.
Time to change my pen color, like how everything changes. And how I am learning to want change. To accept change. And to let myself go - see where the changes take me. It's always there - change - like the gentle lapping of the lake against the dock I sit on. Always moving. And I find that it's in a place of fear, of not wanting to something to change, that many people find themselves stuck.
I can feel some big changes underfoot for me, over the horizon, but I am determined NOT to play them out in my head. Not to imagine what it will be like, because I think that if I do, I'll be creating a vision of something that is not real. Perhaps attaching myself to that vision. And perhaps, more importantly, missing the doors that will open or opportunities that will come about, because I am not paying attention.
And that is what I want to do. Pay attention. To right now. To the heat on my body, the water splashing beside me, the wasp that landed on my leg, the cawing in the sky above me, the whirring of wings as the dragonflies skim by me, the sound of voices rising and falling, a distant purr of a motor. I think this is where all my answers are.
I like this passage. I like it's message - about deadening a relationship with dishonesty. It's probably the closest description of how I felt after being with Mike for so long - when I didn't make the choices to be myself. It conversely also captures how I feel today. And what I think I've been able to experience in my friendship with Jack. The success of being myself with him.
"Any time we begin to withhold our truth, on any level, no matter how small or subtle, we begin to block the life force coming through us and we begin to deaden ourselves and our relationships. The sexual energy, among everything else, diminishes. That is what often happens in long-term relationships.
It is very difficult to stay truly honest with ourselves and with each other in every moment. It's the nature of human beings to try and please the other person, which means that we don't want to show them the parts of ourselves that are undesirable. We also want security, so we are afraid to risk revealing something that could threaten the relationship. There's a subtle level at which we withhold truth.
To whatever degree we withhold truths, there is a corresponding level of energy dying in the relationship."
To which I add - the relationship with MYSELF as much as with anyone else.
I am here on a dock, not a foot from Lake Gilmour. At the home of some of my parents' friends. The sun is hot, it's almost noon, and I can feel the heat beneath my black bathing suit. Against my skin.
The lake is like liquid glass. Perfectly crafted. Reflecting the bold splashed of color - autumn touching the treetops and bushes with its kiss of red and orange.
Time to change my pen color, like how everything changes. And how I am learning to want change. To accept change. And to let myself go - see where the changes take me. It's always there - change - like the gentle lapping of the lake against the dock I sit on. Always moving. And I find that it's in a place of fear, of not wanting to something to change, that many people find themselves stuck.
I can feel some big changes underfoot for me, over the horizon, but I am determined NOT to play them out in my head. Not to imagine what it will be like, because I think that if I do, I'll be creating a vision of something that is not real. Perhaps attaching myself to that vision. And perhaps, more importantly, missing the doors that will open or opportunities that will come about, because I am not paying attention.
And that is what I want to do. Pay attention. To right now. To the heat on my body, the water splashing beside me, the wasp that landed on my leg, the cawing in the sky above me, the whirring of wings as the dragonflies skim by me, the sound of voices rising and falling, a distant purr of a motor. I think this is where all my answers are.
I like this passage. I like it's message - about deadening a relationship with dishonesty. It's probably the closest description of how I felt after being with Mike for so long - when I didn't make the choices to be myself. It conversely also captures how I feel today. And what I think I've been able to experience in my friendship with Jack. The success of being myself with him.
"Any time we begin to withhold our truth, on any level, no matter how small or subtle, we begin to block the life force coming through us and we begin to deaden ourselves and our relationships. The sexual energy, among everything else, diminishes. That is what often happens in long-term relationships.
It is very difficult to stay truly honest with ourselves and with each other in every moment. It's the nature of human beings to try and please the other person, which means that we don't want to show them the parts of ourselves that are undesirable. We also want security, so we are afraid to risk revealing something that could threaten the relationship. There's a subtle level at which we withhold truth.
To whatever degree we withhold truths, there is a corresponding level of energy dying in the relationship."
To which I add - the relationship with MYSELF as much as with anyone else.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Having trouble letting go... and yet learning so much in the process.
As a result of some news a few weeks ago, I've been drawn to re-reading old emails and letters and journal entries and thoughts from years ago.
I clearly am having trouble letting go of the past. But I am giving myself some space to do this. I know it will come, and I am trying to be patient during this process. And let myself be curious about the past and the person I was - even if I am filled with disgust and I cringe when I read how controlling, threatened, needy, and insecure I was. Ugh.
One of the positive things that I discovered was a series of poetry that I wrote... words which came to me when I needed strength, when I needed courage, when I was at my darkest. It is *comforting* to realize that I had the capacity to change... even back then when I hated myself the most... I just didn't listen to my desires.
And the cool thing is that now I am trying to do that. : )
My present me lies balanced precariously
on the edge of my past
Stepping forward and upward
toward my future
Rocking dangerously over the end
Stabilizing a pathway
that leads to the unknown
- April 1998
Melancholy
There are times
When I immerse myself in melancholy
Without warning,
Irresistably.
Like slipping in to a lake, naked
Feeling the cold fingers wrap around my skin.
Like a presence at my throat, tightening.
Making it difficult to swallow.
Like wind stinging my eyes, fiercly,
Until tears spring forward in retaliation.
- July 8, 1998
I am letting go of my past;
It's ripping off old skin.
So I bleed a little at a time
And I realize how glad I am
At not having to shed it all at once.
- 1998
Age
How old do you have to be
Before you can love yourself
Completely and wholly?
Know your faults and your shortcomings
But also know your beauty
And embrace yourself
And tell yourself
You can do anything...
...and watch as you can.
- Jan 28, 1999
Kaleidoscope
Jagged edges of color and pattern
Come together to create form and rhythm
The known is comfortable.
A twist of the wrist
And our lives are jumbled and broken
Angles shift and reorganize
I am disoriented.
Somewhere in the new design
Are familiar pieces of our old selves.
A new future, a new construction.
Will it be the same?
- July 15, 2002
In Places
My edges are worn through
The tarnish is showing
I've been rubbed raw in places
Innocence, joy, naivety, enthusiasm
Make way for a new cynical and jaded me
As if a rough thumb caressed me
Down to the bone
Revealing a darkness, in places.
- December 2003
I clearly am having trouble letting go of the past. But I am giving myself some space to do this. I know it will come, and I am trying to be patient during this process. And let myself be curious about the past and the person I was - even if I am filled with disgust and I cringe when I read how controlling, threatened, needy, and insecure I was. Ugh.
One of the positive things that I discovered was a series of poetry that I wrote... words which came to me when I needed strength, when I needed courage, when I was at my darkest. It is *comforting* to realize that I had the capacity to change... even back then when I hated myself the most... I just didn't listen to my desires.
And the cool thing is that now I am trying to do that. : )
My present me lies balanced precariously
on the edge of my past
Stepping forward and upward
toward my future
Rocking dangerously over the end
Stabilizing a pathway
that leads to the unknown
- April 1998
Melancholy
There are times
When I immerse myself in melancholy
Without warning,
Irresistably.
Like slipping in to a lake, naked
Feeling the cold fingers wrap around my skin.
Like a presence at my throat, tightening.
Making it difficult to swallow.
Like wind stinging my eyes, fiercly,
Until tears spring forward in retaliation.
- July 8, 1998
I am letting go of my past;
It's ripping off old skin.
So I bleed a little at a time
And I realize how glad I am
At not having to shed it all at once.
- 1998
Age
How old do you have to be
Before you can love yourself
Completely and wholly?
Know your faults and your shortcomings
But also know your beauty
And embrace yourself
And tell yourself
You can do anything...
...and watch as you can.
- Jan 28, 1999
Kaleidoscope
Jagged edges of color and pattern
Come together to create form and rhythm
The known is comfortable.
A twist of the wrist
And our lives are jumbled and broken
Angles shift and reorganize
I am disoriented.
Somewhere in the new design
Are familiar pieces of our old selves.
A new future, a new construction.
Will it be the same?
- July 15, 2002
In Places
My edges are worn through
The tarnish is showing
I've been rubbed raw in places
Innocence, joy, naivety, enthusiasm
Make way for a new cynical and jaded me
As if a rough thumb caressed me
Down to the bone
Revealing a darkness, in places.
- December 2003
Friday, September 08, 2006
Absolutely Emu-sing
It could have been because I was a bit punchy...
I had a rough day at work yesterday. Our company laid off a number of employees and while I was fortunate to be unaffected, the emotions were running high throughout the day.
Or
It could have been because the target of crackpots (ME) that they were marketing was totally bang on...
... But I couldn't stop laughing when I read the label on the Four Emus Shiraz bottle. http://www.fouremus.com.au/flashus.html
I hadn't even started drinking, and Bruce "Deranged but thoughtful, for the 2 seconds any emu can hold onto one thought" had me in stitches.
Thanks for the giggles! : )
I am looking forward to meeting the other 3.... ; )
I had a rough day at work yesterday. Our company laid off a number of employees and while I was fortunate to be unaffected, the emotions were running high throughout the day.
Or
It could have been because the target of crackpots (ME) that they were marketing was totally bang on...
... But I couldn't stop laughing when I read the label on the Four Emus Shiraz bottle. http://www.fouremus.com.au/flashus.html
I hadn't even started drinking, and Bruce "Deranged but thoughtful, for the 2 seconds any emu can hold onto one thought" had me in stitches.
Thanks for the giggles! : )
I am looking forward to meeting the other 3.... ; )
Sunday, August 27, 2006
shedding my skin
It's been an interesting week. I learned some things from my past that have shed new light on this journey of mine. Re-opened wounds, and started new healing. I see myself in a different way, like I am looking through old pictures, and finding clues about myself and me. It's both frightening and wonderful, to travel along old roads, walk routes that were well-worn and exhausting, and be given gifts of shade, water, and sunshine, to ease my travels. Beautiful gifts, that leave me feeling awed and raw.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
massage therapy?
He pressed his elbow, deep into my muscle.
Ripping the scar tissue from my ligament.
His long, sweeping movement brought the eruption of hot liquid.
Scalding my body, as the fibers burned.
Inflamed and angry, they fought his attempts to release them;
To tear them away from the familiar hold that they had on my band.
And as he spoke, I felt my past surface.
The patterns that I had been holding onto, eased.
And in that moment of intense pain, I realized how much my body remembered.
How much was inside of me; holding on tenaciously.
Stirring the very fibers of my being, I felt myself give into the sensation that my history starts right now.
--lml aug 17/06
Ripping the scar tissue from my ligament.
His long, sweeping movement brought the eruption of hot liquid.
Scalding my body, as the fibers burned.
Inflamed and angry, they fought his attempts to release them;
To tear them away from the familiar hold that they had on my band.
And as he spoke, I felt my past surface.
The patterns that I had been holding onto, eased.
And in that moment of intense pain, I realized how much my body remembered.
How much was inside of me; holding on tenaciously.
Stirring the very fibers of my being, I felt myself give into the sensation that my history starts right now.
--lml aug 17/06
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Creepy Creepy
Where do nightmares come from? I went to sleep last night and had the scariest dream/nightmare I've had in a long time.
I won't go into details, because as I sit here at 5 am in my office, I am freaked out even thinking about it. I decided that I am not going back to bed, and I was scared to even make my way to the kitchen, because the lights are off in the house. The gist of it was that my cousin was a murdering psycho and was killing off everyone in the house - I remember distinctly that she killed 3 adults and 1 child. I knew she was coming after me, and I knew that I had to try and save everyone, and I couldn't. I knew that if I could just catch her in the process, I would be able to stop her. I could overpower her or surprise her or make her stop. But I could never catch her in the process.
And she seemed to always be there, sneaking up on me, startling me, and showing me what she had done. I couldn't seem to get away. I couldn't turn the lights on brighter, they were always dimly lit. Just enough light that I could only see shadows. And so that I had to strain to see if it was her silhouette or shadow in the doorway or whether my eyes were playing tricks on me. And she was sick. She'd throw her blonde hair back and just laugh. The visuals are still jarring me. Ugh.
Maybe it was the Stephen King book I read before falling asleep, or maybe it was the piece of pizza that I ate. But I've read horror books my entire life, murder mysteries, sci fi, thrillers, and they've never bothered me before. So where did this come from? What the heck is my subconscious trying to tell me?
I tell you, this is one morning that I am so happy that my house is filled with warm, fuzzy cats, and a friend. I am tempted to crawl into bed with her and get some cuddles, but I am too damned scared!
I won't go into details, because as I sit here at 5 am in my office, I am freaked out even thinking about it. I decided that I am not going back to bed, and I was scared to even make my way to the kitchen, because the lights are off in the house. The gist of it was that my cousin was a murdering psycho and was killing off everyone in the house - I remember distinctly that she killed 3 adults and 1 child. I knew she was coming after me, and I knew that I had to try and save everyone, and I couldn't. I knew that if I could just catch her in the process, I would be able to stop her. I could overpower her or surprise her or make her stop. But I could never catch her in the process.
And she seemed to always be there, sneaking up on me, startling me, and showing me what she had done. I couldn't seem to get away. I couldn't turn the lights on brighter, they were always dimly lit. Just enough light that I could only see shadows. And so that I had to strain to see if it was her silhouette or shadow in the doorway or whether my eyes were playing tricks on me. And she was sick. She'd throw her blonde hair back and just laugh. The visuals are still jarring me. Ugh.
Maybe it was the Stephen King book I read before falling asleep, or maybe it was the piece of pizza that I ate. But I've read horror books my entire life, murder mysteries, sci fi, thrillers, and they've never bothered me before. So where did this come from? What the heck is my subconscious trying to tell me?
I tell you, this is one morning that I am so happy that my house is filled with warm, fuzzy cats, and a friend. I am tempted to crawl into bed with her and get some cuddles, but I am too damned scared!
Sunday, July 23, 2006
A thought about Now
The satiation of being present, of being in the moment, of experiencing now feeds my soul and feeds my energy.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Sometimes this is easy to forget....
I had a blue moment this morning. It didn't last very long, but it was one of those moments where I feel disconnected from all my friends.
I realized that when I am emotional - for whatever reason - and experiencing sadness - I become emotionally needy. I feel immediately forgotten, which I know is not real, and I feel like I am all alone. That somehow, in some parallel universe, I am living a life without friends or connections. That the connections I have, which generally come so effortlessly to me, are lost. Like someone is stepping on the wires. And the energy I get when I am in contact with people close to me feels broken off, faded, rusted. I feel like I want to be remembered. To be touched.
And, usually, it's at these moments that I find slivers of inspiration. Reminders that I am alone. That I do walk my journey of life alone. And that I have been incredibly enriched and blessed with friends, that they fill my life with laughter and love. But that I do not need them to be whole or happy.
"The best day of your life is the one
on which you decide your life is your own.
No apologies or excuses.
No one to lean on, rely on, or blame.
The gift is yours - it is an amazing journey -
and you alone are responsible for the quality of it.
This is the day your life really begins."
-Anonymous
I realized that when I am emotional - for whatever reason - and experiencing sadness - I become emotionally needy. I feel immediately forgotten, which I know is not real, and I feel like I am all alone. That somehow, in some parallel universe, I am living a life without friends or connections. That the connections I have, which generally come so effortlessly to me, are lost. Like someone is stepping on the wires. And the energy I get when I am in contact with people close to me feels broken off, faded, rusted. I feel like I want to be remembered. To be touched.
And, usually, it's at these moments that I find slivers of inspiration. Reminders that I am alone. That I do walk my journey of life alone. And that I have been incredibly enriched and blessed with friends, that they fill my life with laughter and love. But that I do not need them to be whole or happy.
"The best day of your life is the one
on which you decide your life is your own.
No apologies or excuses.
No one to lean on, rely on, or blame.
The gift is yours - it is an amazing journey -
and you alone are responsible for the quality of it.
This is the day your life really begins."
-Anonymous
Monday, July 10, 2006
Creative Hiccups
I spent a few minutes capturing some thoughts tonight about this whole artistic
process that I am exploring.
I enjoy losing myself in the creation of something. I love spending hours just drawing something that I see, that I like, that I want to capture. And the process is pure pleasure. Focus, losing myself in the moment, letting go of everything.
What surprises me, much like when I catch a glimpse of myself in a glass when I walk by a storefront or see my face in a mirror, is that I am totally caught off guard. What I see is not what I'd envisioned. I see something that is unexpected. Something that seems somehow wrong.
The picture, the drawing, when held against the original photo, is all askew. Disproportionate, unconnected, misshapen. It's at that moment that I become uncomfortable. I feel worthless, why was I even bothering to try and draw? I can't do this!, and I feel shy and vulnerable. And very embarrassed.
Have I measured this drawing against something that isn't there? Have I expected too much from myself? Did I expect that I would somehow get it right? That it would just flow? Am I afraid to simply put in the time and effort to do this, practice this, over and over?
Do I even have it in me to be persistent enough? To be creative?
process that I am exploring.
I enjoy losing myself in the creation of something. I love spending hours just drawing something that I see, that I like, that I want to capture. And the process is pure pleasure. Focus, losing myself in the moment, letting go of everything.
What surprises me, much like when I catch a glimpse of myself in a glass when I walk by a storefront or see my face in a mirror, is that I am totally caught off guard. What I see is not what I'd envisioned. I see something that is unexpected. Something that seems somehow wrong.
The picture, the drawing, when held against the original photo, is all askew. Disproportionate, unconnected, misshapen. It's at that moment that I become uncomfortable. I feel worthless, why was I even bothering to try and draw? I can't do this!, and I feel shy and vulnerable. And very embarrassed.
Have I measured this drawing against something that isn't there? Have I expected too much from myself? Did I expect that I would somehow get it right? That it would just flow? Am I afraid to simply put in the time and effort to do this, practice this, over and over?
Do I even have it in me to be persistent enough? To be creative?
Monday, July 03, 2006
The Worlds Within
Well, tonight I feel compelled to write. I am feeling creative and inspired. Feeling like I want to draw and write. I want to learn to draw figure studies - male and female nudes. I want to write a short story. I even have the opening lines for my story. I want to travel the world. I want to drop everything I have, everything I know, and take off and travel the world. I want to be bold and daring. Be free. Be interesting. Be open to everything around me.
I am struggling with having these feelings. I am worried that I want to flee because I am dissatisfied with something in my life right now? What could I be dissatisfied with? Where do I begin to make changes that will give me that kind of outlet - that will inspire me, help me feel like I am exploring new parts of me.
Where can I go to fill myself - fill those parts of me that are hungry?
And yet, here I am sitting here on my couch, eating pretzels, watching Friends, and surfing with my laptop. Do I just expect all of this to just happen to me? That my doorbell is going to ring and suddenly I'll be transported to another universe and that art and magic is going to surround me and fill my senses? That I'll be exposed to new and interesting people? That I'll begin to explore myself and my sense of self in different ways?
How do I start to create it? To have all of that infiltrate my world, as it is now? Without escaping?
I am struggling with having these feelings. I am worried that I want to flee because I am dissatisfied with something in my life right now? What could I be dissatisfied with? Where do I begin to make changes that will give me that kind of outlet - that will inspire me, help me feel like I am exploring new parts of me.
Where can I go to fill myself - fill those parts of me that are hungry?
And yet, here I am sitting here on my couch, eating pretzels, watching Friends, and surfing with my laptop. Do I just expect all of this to just happen to me? That my doorbell is going to ring and suddenly I'll be transported to another universe and that art and magic is going to surround me and fill my senses? That I'll be exposed to new and interesting people? That I'll begin to explore myself and my sense of self in different ways?
How do I start to create it? To have all of that infiltrate my world, as it is now? Without escaping?
Thursday, June 22, 2006
le petit bonheur
Fitting words for the summer solstice. A time of change, and reflection. A time to celebrate summer - the warmth of the sunshine, the fragrant smell of flowers and earth in the air, fireflies that light up the darkness, the gatherings of friends and family that inevitably happens when we feel warm and comfortable. The simple pleasures in life.
"There are times when it is hard to believe in the future, when we are temporarily just not brave enough. When this happens, concentrate on the present. Cultivate le petit bonheur (the little happiness) until courage returns. Look forward to the beauty of the next moment, the next hour, the promise of a good meal, sleep, a book, a movie, the likelihood that tonight the stars will shine and tomorrow the sun will shine. Sink roots into the present until the strength grows to think about tomorrow."
-- Ardis Whitman
"There are times when it is hard to believe in the future, when we are temporarily just not brave enough. When this happens, concentrate on the present. Cultivate le petit bonheur (the little happiness) until courage returns. Look forward to the beauty of the next moment, the next hour, the promise of a good meal, sleep, a book, a movie, the likelihood that tonight the stars will shine and tomorrow the sun will shine. Sink roots into the present until the strength grows to think about tomorrow."
-- Ardis Whitman
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Letting go... jumping in...not being afraid... all that good stuff! : )
I think Ralph Waldo Emerson was a Buddhist. I find his words to be very much about staying in the moment, not being afraid, of letting go of the past and the future, about enjoying the simple things in life.
Isn't that what life is all about?!
"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Isn't that what life is all about?!
"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Monday, June 12, 2006
A little Shel...
for this Monday morning.
I read this on Inspiration Peak, and thought it was the perfect way to get everyone off on the right foot, today.
A little reminder that the world is yours for the taking! If you are ready for it!
Listen to the Mustn'ts,child,
Listen to the Don’ts
Listen to the Shouldn’ts
The Impossibles, the Won’ts
Listen to the Never Haves,
Then listen close to me --
Anything can happen, child,
Anything can be.”
Shel Silverstein
I read this on Inspiration Peak, and thought it was the perfect way to get everyone off on the right foot, today.
A little reminder that the world is yours for the taking! If you are ready for it!
Listen to the Mustn'ts,child,
Listen to the Don’ts
Listen to the Shouldn’ts
The Impossibles, the Won’ts
Listen to the Never Haves,
Then listen close to me --
Anything can happen, child,
Anything can be.”
Shel Silverstein
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Happy Grazing : )
I *like* my horoscope for this week. I love this line, in particular, "sample a little of a lot."
ARIES (March 21-April 19): In all my years of evaluating your astrological omens, I have rarely seen a time so favourably disposed to the value and pleasure of variety. I'm tempted to conclude that the cosmos is conspiring for you to try all 32 flavours, 46 positions, and 64 loopholes. For a limited time only, you really should be determined to sample a little of a lot rather than a lot of a little. Grazing and browsing are not only fine, they're preferable. You have a poetic license to be mercurial, spontaneous, and inscrutable.
Of course, this seems to be the natural state of post-vacation bliss. : )
Bring it on!
ARIES (March 21-April 19): In all my years of evaluating your astrological omens, I have rarely seen a time so favourably disposed to the value and pleasure of variety. I'm tempted to conclude that the cosmos is conspiring for you to try all 32 flavours, 46 positions, and 64 loopholes. For a limited time only, you really should be determined to sample a little of a lot rather than a lot of a little. Grazing and browsing are not only fine, they're preferable. You have a poetic license to be mercurial, spontaneous, and inscrutable.
Of course, this seems to be the natural state of post-vacation bliss. : )
Bring it on!
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