yes, i am spending the night with him once again

kenny rogers in on american idol people...
what more could this tired yoga teacher/freelance editor/artist need????

{SPT} i'm an artist, "april fool"

These are my hands with ink under my nails soaking up the energy from this piece I created in my workshop with Anahata Katkin. I promise to go into more detail but it was my Saturday workshop and in my stories about ArtFest I am only on Thursday (and yes, I will write more about Thursday later today). But here is a preview of Saturday:

During the afternoon of this workshop, these phrases were going through my head: i am an artist. this is amazing. i am an artist. who do i think I am? this is hideous. i want to crawl under the table and weep. how cool is this? i am amazing. i hate this color. why did i take this class? black...i have never used black before. i hate black. ohhhh, i love black, that looks so cool. who do i think i am? i am so lost. this morning was amazing...and this...this is crap. i cannot capture the feelings on the page. i am an artist! april fool...
but i learned...i can be whomever i want to be. so, today, i am an artist.

See more April Fool SPTs here.

begin at the beginning

I have spent the day in macroeconomics world, editing an online course. This is so far from my last few days that my head is spinning a bit. I don't even know where to begin, so I will begin at the beginning.

Wednesday night I met up with Kelly and knew I had found a friend. It was wonderful. She is the first person I had met in person from blog world. We could just set all the surface stuff aside and simply connect. I feel so blessed to have had a friend with me during this entire experience. We are at similar places in the learning curve of art world, so we were able to share our questions, answers, and she gave me so many tips (like getting a tackle box for my art supplies! by the end of this week I will be the proud owner of a tackle box). Throughout the entire time, we shared stories, laughed, she put up with my crazy excitement (and I was more than a little crazy with excitement - thanking Teesha Moore twice for letting me attend so last minute. My husband said I was a bit like the toy horn you use on New Years that you blow and the paper part rolls out into someone's face - I was literally like that horn sometimes and that is so not my usual personality), taught me a lot about life and art, and simply got me. She is an amazing artist and she is learning to let go of the inner critic. I can't wait to see what she creates next (and I do want to be the first person to buy something of hers). Thank you Kelly.

During dinner that first night, I met up with Kim. (Oh my friend, I do believe that we have known each other in a past life.) I truly feel like I have always known her. She is an incredible woman. And I am so lucky that she just lives up the road and can't wait until I can spend the day in her studio. She made me the most delightful little book that I will fill with my words (and make a few more like it on my own). I love the way that Kim looks at the world. Her kind, honest heart shines through just like it does on her blog. She created some amazing artwork this weekend that you should check out on her blog. (Kim, be warned, I am inviting myself up soon!)

That first night there is a bit of a trading "frenzy" after dinner. People bring things to trade. From artist trading cards to bits of stuff to things they have made to beads and bobbles. I was a little overwhelmed by this but didn't want to miss out on all the fun. I brought some CDs (my current playlist I listen to as I create and write) and some bags of stuff one might use in a collage or to make an altered book. (I have a few of both left, so if you would like a CD or a bag of stuff, email me and I will send one out to you.) During this time of trading I learned something that would hold true for my entire time up there: this group of people who attend ArtFest are incredible, kind, crazy, friendly, amazing individuals. I received some wonderful little trinkets during this time of trading, and it was fun to see people excited about my CDs and bags of "stuff." I realized I didn't have to feel accepted by the group (the fear of not having anyone to sit with was a big one for me) because I was already part of this group.

After dinner, there was an opening meeting where Tracy and Teesha said hello and Michael DeMeng spoke. This was my first introduction to Michael's work. One word. Wow. I hope to one day take a class with him. His opening talk was great. I wish I had taken notes, but I was simply trying to take it all in. Right before I sat down for this meeting, I heard someone exclaim "Liz Elayne" - there she was - Blue Poppy. I wouldn't see her again until Saturday (we had a class together - more on this soon), but as I looked into her face and hugged her, I could hear the actress from the PBS version of Anne of Green Gables saying, "I knew we were kindred spirits." (Elizabeth - I hope you could hear her too.)

When the meeting ended, Kelly and I went to the Art Asylum room. Incredible. Tables of stuff for all of us to use to create. But it was kind of like a sale at Nordstrom, if Nordstrom was a thrift store. It was crazy fun. Kelly learned that I can get a bit overwhelmed in crowds as I said, "I think I am just going to step back" more than once. We found some neat things though and spent a couple of hours talking and creating together.

Then I went back to my room at the B&B. It was nice to stay off campus this first year. I know I need my space. I could read and take a breath and have hot water and not have to stand in line for things...

A sneak peek of more to come: Thursday is the day that changed my life forever. (I am not kidding people.)

like december 25, 1985

in the house we lived in from the time i was about 3 until i was 11 (my favorite house; the house that sneaks into my dreams; the house i one day want to build), there was an area that was almost like a balcony near the top of the steps. it was right outside my bedroom. i could sit on this balcony of sorts and see all the way down the steps into the living room. this meant that on christmas morning, if i was really quiet, i could sit there and peak to see what might be under the tree. on christmas morning in 1985, my eyes spied cabbage patch kid twins! i recognized that big box right away. i sat there mesmerized, looking at their little matching blue velvet outfits. i could not wait until my parents woke up so i could speed down the steps and take them out of the box to play with them!

this is how i felt the entire weekend at ArtFest. christmas morning. 1985.

my heart and body and soul and mind are simply overflowing with joy, excitement, passion, silliness, love, words, color, textures...

i can't wait to tell you all about it after i drink some tea and sleep, sleep, sleep...(oh and watch the west wing. i love this show...)

Poetry Thursday

Sometimes

When they criticize you how do you
hold your wings? I hold mine out
and down, descend a little, then more.
Cool air comes. Nobody cares how low
I descend, and the way my eyes close
makes me disappear. They have their sky again.

So thin a life I have, scribbling dust
when I turn, trailing as if to follow
something inside the earth, something beyond
this place. If I accept what comes,
another sky is there. My serious face
bends to the ground, the dust, the lowered wings.

William Stafford

I am in love with William Stafford. Every time I read one of his poems I feel like he has taken a peak inside my soul and written the words I cannot say. I hope you are inspired to spend some time with him...

serendipity hits blog world again. I came across Lisa's blog over the weekend. She has been posting poetry on Thursdays for quite a while now. I guess it is a feature on the Washington DC Craig's List. I think this is just incredible. Here I am out here in Washington State deciding to post Poetry on Thursdays, and other people around the world have joined in on the fun, while people out on the East Coast have been having fun with Poetry Thursday for a while now. People around the world sharing poetry. I just love it!

I am often asked: what are the rules of Poetry Thursday? No rules really. To participate in Poetry Thursday, all you have to do is post a poem (by someone else or your own poem) on your blog on Thursday (or close to it). If you don't have a blog, you can post a poem here in the comments. I am out of town until Sunday, so if you are new to Poetry Thursday (and you aren't in the list on my side bar) and you posted a poem on your blog, please leave a comment with your link so others can visit you. Also, if you want to join Poetry Thursday, please send me an email at waywardtulip @ gmail.com and I will add you to the list when I return. Make sure you include a link to your blog and the way you would like your name to appear in the sidebar.

Happy reading!

{SPT} tea time, art, and ice cream

Another week of boiling water, brewing tea, pausing, taking a polaroid, and drinking tea as the picture develops.

I am amazed that I have all these pictures of me now - with no make-up on. It is liberating in a sense. Even though I do look so tired illuminated only by the bright flash...

Maybe I will keep doing this every day. Pausing. Reflecting. Letting go.

And my favorite tea from this experience is a new green tea with brown rice. I love earthy green teas. Mmmm.

sleepy thoughts...

...on a sunday night.

I am not alone. I am not alone in my feelings about Bush. I was worried about putting my naked feelings out there. I haven't really ever walked the line of politics on my blog. Because even though my views make up a big part of me, they are not the one thing I want to be identified by in this world that can seem so polorized. (and really, how well do you know someone just reading her blog everyday? people make so many assumptions. but, i guess you were safe assuming that this yoga teacher who migrated from a RED state to a BLUE state might just be a bit blue herself. it is, afterall, my favorite color.) Thank you for leaving comments so I know that I am not alone in my inability to put Bush up on my altar. And no, I didn't suddenly cut out a picture of him and put it anywhere near where I meditate. However, I have put the idea out into the universe, so maybe we can all think about less hate and more compassion.

I spent the last two days at a yoga workshop about yoga therapy with the Mohans. Incredible. My mind is still processing it all. My favorite phrase from the weekend: The mind is the corrupt prime-minister of the body.

I am getting things ready for ArtFest! I cannot believe I am going in three short days (well, really 2 1/2 now!). Please know this: I am behind in reading all the blogs I enjoy so much (see list at right). I am sorry about this because I hate missing all of your words, inspiration, and knowing what is going on in your worlds. I will be playing catch up next week because I am treading water in the deep end right now, looking for my water wings (ok, interesting image, I mean I am simply super busy). Know that I am thinking about all of you. Yes. I. Am. And appreciate you "stopping by to have tea with me" for a few seconds here.

I cannot believe The West Wing is ending. I cannot believe that I will be crying over the death of Leo soon. I have not fully mourned the loss of John Spencer because in my mind, Leo is still alive. I love this show. I wish it was real my world. I wish Hawkeye Pierce or Matt Santos could be my President. I still have the Newsweek cartoon that came out after the 2000 election where they showed Martin Sheen beating out Bush and Gore. For the last 7 years I have held on to the fact that for one night a week, Jed Bartlett was my President. I feel about this show the way my mom felt about MASH. (We love Alan Alda in this family.)

Okay, this sleep-deprived woman must get to bed now...

who is on your altar?

Tonight my husband and I watched the movie Good Night, and Good Luck. I am still sitting with all the thoughts that came up as I took in this film. The shadows and lighting were just incredible. And the faces of these actors - the quick moments of emotion captured. It felt so timely, beyond timely really. I wish we had a voice of reason like this today. Right now. Do we? And if we do, will that person who stands up for freedom of speech and belief lose his or her job? Be moved to a Sunday afternoon time slot that no one will watch?

As I listened to McCarthy's words, I felt the same way I feel when I watch the news or the Sunday morning political shows or hear the voice of George W. Bush. However, through this reaction, I had one split second of sanity and was reminded of a teaching my yoga teacher shared with my training group when we met for the first time after the 2004 election. It is a story about the spiritual teacher Ram Dass. I ask your forgiveness in that I am paraphrasing a story that has been passed down, but I believe that he wrote about it in one of his books. During the 80s, Ram Dass found following his teacher's teaching to love everyone challenging. Every time he saw Casper Weinberger on the news, he felt lots of emotions but love was not one of them. His teacher said that this teaching was not one you decide to follow one day and then let go of another. So Ram Dass brought a picture of Weinberger to his altar. Imagine coming to your altar where you have symbols, pictures, artifacts, a candle for peace and so on that all represent your spiritual teachers and teachings. You might say, "Hello Buddha. Thank you for your example Jesus. Good morning Mom. Thank you to the spirits who have gone before me. Hello my favorite rock that reminds me of my connection to nature. Thank you for the reminder to let go of attachment Shiva. Ah...Casper. Yes. Hello to you too."

My teacher was challenging us, and herself, to think about putting Bush on our alters. Can I do this? Can I put Bush, McCarthy, Weinberger, and so many others on my altar? Can I project compassion instead of anger? Can I open my heart enough to realize that loving everyone is non-negotiable? Tonight, I am certain, that I am not ready for this. (One person did ask my teacher, "Can it be the bobblehead Bush?") I might need to start with someone else. But then again, if not now, then when? And, if I can bring Bush to my alter, maybe I can bring people who have hurt me to my altar. Those people in my past I may not want to think about. Those people who also need my compassion.

Who needs your compassion more than your anger? Who do you need to bring to your altar?