I've been thinking a bit about personal deadlines and when to allow yourself rest and when to allow yourself work and when to allow the work to be enough and when to allow it to be deficient.  It's an inspiring life being surrounded by others who think on the same things.  Kelly works hard, terribly hard. There is no wishy-washy "Maybe I'll try my hand at art for a while to see if maybe I'm good enough."  She is head's down, buried in foliage and silver and paint most days.  I must say, I got to see her more when she wasn't so successful, so it doesn't really benefit my social life - but it is certainly motivating for me in my own craft.

Which brings me to my good medicine.  Today I began a writer's workshop with the subject of writing on Inner Change/Personal Transformation.  I sit around the table with eight other (rather magnificent!) ladies who are grappling with being a writer and being a human, and it has put a serious bee in my bonnet.  

So let it begin, I say...the flurry of an writing so much that I feel beautiful exhausted from the work of my soul. Just like she does.

This year didn't go quite how I expected it to.  Of course one can never fully prepare for:

but even with that understanding, I can't help but leave this year feeling disappointed somehow.  In her wisdom, my sister says that's the way things go...everyone has their onslaught of bad thing after bad thing and then things begin to turn around and life becomes easy and the good sticks around for a while.  I feel that things are starting to settle, but I am straining my neck to see the part where the good sticks.  It still seems unattainable, precarious despite there having been so much good recently.

For the last few months, I've given myself a lot of leeway regarding maintaining my artist lifestyle amidst full-time work.  But this last week, I've been increasingly disappointed in myself for ____.  I don't know what.  Maybe not having enough energy, not taking care of myself enough, not calling my friends enough, not giving enough...but mainly, for not writing enough, for not shooting photographs enough.  Today, I am sick of this disappointment.  I want to dig deep and remember my wise, capable self.  Today's mantra is this..."Self, I trust you with myself."  

I took myself to coffee yesterday morning and while I thought I was going to read some of my favorite poets (recently Hughes and Arnold), I actually found myself reading my own journal.  I forgot that one of the most beneficial things about journaling in the first place is re-reading your own thoughts...remembering as only you can where you have been and what have you processed.  Remembering that you have been amazing and will be again.  

Just as I was bemoaning the loss of my art, I stumbled upon something I had written a few weeks ago.  It soothed my soul.  Imagine, myself taking care of myself...this may sound basic to you, but I firmly believe that the ability to comfort oneself is not easy to come by. 

And so the truth is that I am done being disappointed in myself.  I cannot do what I used to do when I was home all day.  Who even says I am supposed to?

I've got a new idea in the brain, one I've been journaling about for a few weeks now, but only just started while on my artist retreat.  I was a bit frustrated with the beginning process, but after a long dinner with BC and Umber, I was able to sort of talk my way over the roadblocks.

(Sidenote: Those two are ridiculously helpful sounding boards)

INTENTIONAL.

(I can see Kelly smirking).

"As for discipline — it's important, but sort of overrated. The more important virtue for a writer, I believe, is self-forgiveness. Because your writing will always disappoint you. Your laziness will always disappoint you. [...] Continuing to write after that heartache of disappointment doesn't take only discipline, but also self-forgiveness." ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

I don't want to chain my gifts down and require them to produce on demand.
 I refuse.

But I do want to give them all the open space they need to breath their way into life.

So I'll just write.

And write and write and write.

I hope you'll read, but I suppose that's not really the point now...

is it?

This time, these 30 minutes...they are all for me.

And me alone.

Of course, I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject.

Instantly!

Like NOW.

Off to write, 

I've returned from my week of self-indulgent rejuvenation provided for me by Mrs. UmberDove.  Truth be told, I was originally headed down to be with her as she started chemotherapy, but since our healthcare system is determined to make things as difficult as it can, that has since been postponed.  It was a conflicting thing...for I did want to be there as support and distraction during treatment, but it was also so nice for us both that she got to be herself...well, thriving, funny, energetic, inspired...for a week spent with me.

It was interesting, our conversations could be summed up in two buzz words that kept creeping up:

:: INTENTIONALITY ::

:: EASE ::

:: NOTICING ::

JOURNAL ENTRIES
_______

 "cloudy.  loving it.  matches my desire to crawl under the blanket of my life and peak ever so gingerly, vulnerably.  Read, Write, Create. Be.  Take Photographs."









______


"I wander through the house, taking in the intentionality of each vignette.  I find reassurance in them, quiet in them.  In her.  She, and her things, have always put me at EASE.  Stuff.  The intentional stuff. This is a definition of home to me."




_______


"The earth is so marvelous.  So worthy of staring, gawking, of marvel.  We know this as kids, how to we unlearn it?  Teenagers.  The worst thing a human soul must endure, teenage years.  We learn then to marvel at ourselves, our insides, our emotions, our relationships.  If we don't come full circle, we're fucked."






_______


"Stumbled into this Finnish Spa...outdoor hot tubs with a cafe inside.  Magically, a live folk band plays.  A gentleman sitting close...smells of patchouli and unbathed skin, but also smoke and something else intoxicating.  The band plays this beautiful exotic Swedish folk song and I feel completely transported."





"I can nap, I can talk or not talk, I can refresh myself as I would alone.  Interesting to observe myself letting go and having anxiety about truly relaxing, flashing moments of the fear of boredom when boredom is the bitch I came to pursue."
_______






"Today I skim the surface of the soul.  I crave a mindless exercise...a movie perhaps.  My many thoughts threaten to delve me into depths of analysis and emotion of which I am simply not capable.  I love how we can be separate together as we wander through bookstores and sit in silent reverie."
_______




"Just returned from a five mile picture walk.  Have underestimated how I missed her so.  I suppose feeling so good about her, in turn, helps me feel good about myself again.  If I admire her, then I admire what she admires, so I can therefore borrow her perspective and see myself in a loving way.  This is not unlike my saint.  This reconnection with her brings me to the version of myself I most love."







_______

"Something the yoga teacher said this morning keeps repeating in my head.  Though striving towards betterment is innate to the human soul, we must remember that we are just as we should be right here and now.  The product of our striving is not the way towards satisfaction, but being at ease in the moment."











And there you have it folks...a truly sacred week of rest for me.
 I ate well, slept well, exercised well, wrote well, and loved well.


It was a very, very long drive home.
But somewhere between the Northern California seaside and the great open fields of Central Oregon,
I put the year to rest
and decided to forgive it
for being so relentlessly wretched.
And thereby forgiving myself for feeling similarly.

Mme. visits Umber

Picture it with me if you will.  11 hours of sleep, 4 of those filled with dreams of children screaming for help, lovers finding replacements, and family members clamoring for favors.  The saint left early to work on a brewing weekend, and though I usually revel in alone time, today it feels really sad somehow.  I made a cup of tea and topped my toast with rasberry jam, decided to make a fire (the first time we've needed it in two weeks), and have sat in my living room deciding how today will be.  I'm bundled in confusion and thoughts and transitions and  people and the future and possibilities, and I just cannot seem to think things through clearly.

So today I decided to take advantage of this time, bring out the multitude of empty frames I have and work on a photo wall.  One of the things I was most excited for in this house was my own creative room.  This means I can decorate it in my own way and have a photo wall!  The saint is a rather minimal bloke, and does not enjoy things covering wall space in large proportion, and I can understand that.  So my room will be totally, all, completely, thoroughly ME.  Unfortunately, up until now it's been a storage room for things that had no place (there is an organ in there, seriously).  In preparation for my sister's visit, I've slowly been cleaning it out.  I think today is the day that I really work it out.  I've got some great ideas, and feel nothing but completely in need of an all-encompassing project, turning up Miles Davis obnoxiously loud, donning some red lipstick, and opening bottle of red.

It's grey in my soul today...and Seattle embraces me.

~crm

I am so happy to announce that my friend Kelly, Umberdove, Redwood (pick a nickname) is hosting a giveaway of one of the smallies!  I hope you can wander over there today and enter the contest (or just tell her I absolutely need it because I will be giving it to all the orphans in the whole world).

Goodness me!  Is it really already Friday afternoon?  What a  blur of a week.  As you may have noticed, I've been concentrating most of my bloggular energies over at mine and Kelly's baby, Pretty, Please...trying to get that off the ground and into the already inundated world of design/professional blogs.  There's nothing like hoping, right?! ;)  (Feel free to add us to your following list anytime!)

I've also had the immense pleasure of helping Umber with her show this week in promotion as well as the ever-important task of holding little paintings while she hammers in nails. From my perspective, it looked something like this: