{SPT} tea time, a cupcake, a new 'do

Taking time for tea, week two.
Continuing the process of letting go of my self-criticism as the picture develops. Some days are harder than others. I think, "I look that tired?" or "double chin, that bad, i look huge" or "I need the sun! I am so pale." Then the next day, I look again and realize that this is one very brief moment in time. One look. One pause. And it does not represent my whole being, who I really am.

(Well, I like to think that the first picture kind of does. I was laughing about how I am posing in front of the camera every single day. Who does that? And this photo captured me in a moment of joy, silliness, and wonder. I would like to think that this is me - at least the very best of me inside and out.)

And yes, I did get a haircut and a new color. You can't really tell with these little polaroids (and the fact that sometimes I have done nothing with my hair). But it is in fact a bit red now. Imagine taking dark brown and adding purple and magenta. This would be the color of the hair on my head.

If you click on the photo it will take you to my flickr page and you can see what I am really drinking every day, the time, and the date.

Be inspired by other SPT bloggers here.

inspire me thursday. a sense-less maze.

a sense-less creation.

close my eyes and choose random paper. keep the eyes closed and tear the paper. open my eyes. i do not love the colors i have chosen. but then i turn the papers over. interesting.

there is no sound. no music. the dog sleeps at my feet. if i really try to hear something, the clock ticks. i quickly glue the papers to the page. a bit of a puzzle. i take a break. i am hungry and need to taste and smell.

come back and spend a few minutes thinking about moments when we might really lose our usual sense of senses and have to rely on our senses in a new way. a maze. use the white oil pastel because i have a hard time seeing it myself.

there are many ways to get to the center of this maze. and many ways to get lost. i am not even sure if you can get to the center. you might just have to turn around and find another path all together. kind of like life...

see other inspire me thursday creations here. enjoy!

serendipity in blog world

Last summer I was reading a few blogs on a daily basis, though I hadn't started my own. One afternoon I linked to a new blog, then another, then another and at some point I read a post that had a link to a webpage of artwork by an artist that that blogger loved. And there I found this. And my eyes filled a bit because this was it. What I had been looking for that combined my grandmother's love of hummingbirds with her love of gardening. That summer my husband and I had started a garden for the first time, and I felt a connection to my grandmother every time I walked around to see what was growing or found the perfect plant to attract butterflies and hummingbirds. Even though I couldn't talk to her about it, I could feel like her spirit was with me during these moments. We had been to several art fairs and garden shops but I had yet to find what I wanted. Something I could have that would remind me that she is with me.

I remember calling my husband into my home office saying, "look at this, it is perfect!!" He immediately agreed and said I should buy one of them. But they were out. And I was so sidetracked by that thought that I didn't bookmark the page. And could never find it again. I would think about this Hummingbird Lady every now and then and wish she was living in my home, but again, I couldn't remember the webpage or the artist's name.

Then in January I started reading Alexandra's blog. And then she introduced her friend Laini's blog. I was drawn to Laini's artwork and one day ventured out onto her webpage. I was linking from page to page and found this (which speaks to my soul) and in trying to find out if she had prints for sale, I linked to a page and suddenly I thought, "I have been here before." And then I linked on to Laini's Ladies...and gasped. The Hummingbird Lady. Laini (my new blog world friend) is the creator of the Hummingbird Lady. Amazing. Simply. Utterly. Fantastically. Amazing.

So now, I am blessed with a Hummingbird Lady in my house. She sits above me as I work, create, write, dream. She watches the hummingbirds out the window. She looks over my ever-present tulips. She reminds me I am not alone. Thank you Laini.

This month delights me for many reasons, the main one: Spring. She is trying to spread her wings and sing her song. We may have had traces of snow here (SNOW!) but the flowers are blooming and the sun is shining. At the same time, I am reminded that this time last year, I was able to call my grandmother to say, "the daffodils are blooming and my tulips have buds." And I certainly would have called her for tips about what to do with the snow and my budding plants. This time last year, we were having our last few conversations but neither one of us knew it. Later in March, last year, she was going through many tests and was tired and the doctors could not figure it out. I am entering that time when the anniversary of her death looms in front of me. It is still a month away, but it sits heavy on my heart.

Yet, in the midst of it, the serendipity of the blog world brings a smile to my face. Earlier this week, Hobess sent me a beautiful collage she had created for me. (Thank you my dear.) It touched my heart and reminded me again that through this grief, something amazing is blooming. New friendships, I am learning so much from others and myself, my own creativity is bursting...life through death. The cycle.

My grandmother is smiling more than she ever did while she was here and laughing louder than she ever would and flying with the hummingbirds.

pilgrims

As part of the two year yoga teacher training intensive I am taking, we have to write a paper and present a project. My project is about journal writing as a practice. Part of the research I am doing has led me to this book:
Life's Companion
Journal Writing as a Spiritual Quest
by Christina Baldwin

It is resonating within me with intense vibration; I feel like I might have been led to this book. And I have to share part of the first chapter.

We go to work, come home tired, make supper, do laundry, watch over the children, talk to our spouses or lovers or friends. There's nothing good on TV. We try to glimpse life's meaning in trips to the grocery store, talks about the weather, thoughts about how things are at work or at home and how are lives are turning out. We feel vulnerable and perhaps disappointed. Something has sifted under us that we thought we could count on, an assumption about reality we never named, and now it isn't there. We're trying to figure something out and we don't know how to help ourselves. We are waiting for the way to be made clear, only there doesn't seem to be "a way." We are alone with ourselves as we are, and life as it is, learning to attend to what Willa Cather calls "that which is about us always." This is a perplexing situation, but confusion in the way pilgrimages and journals most often begin.
Despite the pressure of the times, the journey cannot be forced to grow like a hothouse bulb. The best any of us can do is ready ourselves with spiritual openness that we have practiced during the lulls in our life, so that when the turning point comes, we have structure in place to help us decide which way to turn. We practice finding spirituality in the ordinary so that we may recognize it in the extraordinary.
What I think we are up to, we throngs of journal-writing pilgrims, is reclamation. We are searching for ways to reclaim a sense of place, a sense of empowerment, a sense of healthy relationship between our lives and times. We look for whatever can help us make sense of the moment.
We write.

Do you want to know why I come to this screen and write? This is why. We are pilgrims together on a journey. Pilgrims. Reclaiming our dreams, hopes, desires. Living.
What we are afraid to let out into the world, we can let out here. What we think no one else might understand, we can put into the universe through the written word. This is so powerful.

(on a side note: is there a book about journal writing that you recommend? Or about art journaling? Or about writing as a practice? i would love to hear from you if any come to mind.)

poetry thursday

Unknown

Like a spider suspended
from a beam, the moment
swayed. The silk
of the web was invisible.
Belief seemed an unlikely thing.

And the spider herself was monstrous,
a spotted bulb with transparent legs
sharp as hooks. She fidgeted in midair,

plucked the strings of the web
to re-create a keyhole,
to make herself
the key into the next passage.

Nothing seemed apparent.
The breeze moved through the keyhole.
I wanted to flatten
against a wall like a moth.
Two lips holding back a cry.

Jennifer Grotz

This is from Grotz's 2003 collection of poems entitled Cusp. I chose it this morning because, for me, it speaks to this idea that is turning around in my mind (that I wrote about yesterday). This idea that we need to let it out. To let go of the fear of the unknown...

Please join me and post a poem today. If you accept my invitation, send me an email and I will post a link to your blog in my sidebar here. If you don't have a blog but would like to share a poem, please leave it here in the comments of this post.

May the words you read today invite a shift in your perspective.

the whisperings of a movement

Finally, I had a few hours to catch up on lots of blog reading...and I think I have stumbled upon the whisperings of a movement (and I bet you may have heard these whispers too). The movement to let it out. I came across it here, then here, and then here (where it all began - thank you for being the catalyst Pixie!). Then I read this post and this post that had similar themes. And I was reminded of Michelle's post about letting yourself ROAR.

And my mind began to turn. This balance of the "stuff" we may have stuck within us and the wild woman who is inside us. The idea that the only way we may be able to uncover this wild woman, to let her breathe, feel, and howl, is to dislodge some of this stuff.

How do we do this?

I am not sure that I have any answers, but this is what is dancing around in my mind tonight. As I teach yoga, I remind my students to breathe. To create space inside them. To open the heart through the breath. I believe this is one piece. We must move the energy inside us. Breathing is one way. Creating sound is another. Take a breath. On the exhale, create the sound "ooooooh" - let it vibrate within you. Feel how it shifts your focus, your awareness.

Maybe through this connection of the breath and sound we can begin to shift the energy. We can invite the vibrations to lighten the load that we carry. We can put names to the "stuff" we have inside us and take away its anonymity. We can sing, giggle, talk, cry, scream, laugh, shout, chant, whisper with intention until we feel the wild woman inside of us awaken.

Maybe if we do this together we can really start a movement. A movement to let it out. To breathe, feel, live, and let it out....Do you want to join me?

{SPT} tea time, salsa, and laughter

Every day I am taking a break from my life, for a few moments, and making a cup of tea. This month, I am capturing part of this moment in a photograph. I am still turning this idea of embracing all of me over and over in my mind. And decided to try to incorporate it into this month's theme as well. So I am using my polaroid camera. I use the timer and pose for a moment. Then as the picture develops I pause and drink my tea. And I try to watch my face appear without any judgement. Ahhh. This has been interesting. I am trying to take a few minutes a day to breathe through the judgement while I drink tea. Trying to be the watcher of my thoughts.

Though on day 6, I must admit that I was so hungry (having skipped lunch) and juggling phone calls with work while making lasagna, so I decided to forgo tea and snack on chips and salsa. And yes, that is an apron I am wearing. Channeling my grandmother when I make her lasagna, wearing her apron.

Oh and one more thing. This little exercise of sitting for a few moments each day, watching my face appear has invited me to make a call. To a beauty salon. I think I need a new 'do.

See other SPT posts here.

senses. inspire me thursday.

{see}
my art supplies scattered all over the dining room table. the colors that result as i mix blue and purple paint. the lines in the photo that begin to appear as i scratch away with sandpaper. color disappears and reappears as i apply bleach and water to the photo with a brush. some of my grandmother's favorite seashells in a bowl on the table. the joys of figuring out a way to add them and finding the ones that already have a hole in them. deciding where to place these objects on the canvas. over here? no. here? hmmm. how about this way? yes.

{hear}
I tear the paper and head to my office. the typewriter keys move and create letters on the newsprint. click, click. the words come from my brain to the page. click, click, zing. as i ponder how to adhere the shells to the canvas, i tap a pencil on the table. after my a-ha moment, i hear my feet along the floor as i run to the guest room closet. my long-lost bead collection. the beads roll and tumble in their plastic containers as i pull the bag off the shelf. my feet again as i run back to the table. i open the bag and the containers inside. "yes!" i cry. wire. david wilcox sings in the background and i am a back-up singer as i twist the wire into knots. my husband asks, "do you want some tea?" yes, please, i reply.

{smell}
the fume-y-ness of paint, gel medium, and bleach. the woodsy, clean green tea as i bring the mug to my lips when i pause to let things dry. later, the strong wrinkle-up-your-nose smell of the varnish; a cross between oh-what-is-that-odor and moth balls.

{taste}
i bring my fingertip to my tongue in anticipation of leafing through some paper and grimace as i my tongue hits the coppery taste from the wire that lingers on my finger. in the hope of capturing a memory of the sea, i bring a shell to my tongue. but i taste nothing. the warm, soothing green tea as it slides over my tongue and down my throat.

{feel}
these moments are all about touch. i use my hands for everything. i feel the stickiness of the glue on my fingers. the rough, little pebble-like feel of the sandpaper. the smooth, then rough, round, edges of the shells. the wire as i sew the shells together. twist, turn, loop, thread.

{and know}
an artist. yes. an artist. there is an artist inside me who danced and laughed and sang as i created this piece of me. you have one inside you, too.

see other inspire me thursday art pieces that use all of the senses here.

the typewritten words say:
do not fear
the unknown
embrace
the
questions
the answers
are the guts
of it all
your life