Life is Calling

“What if you wake up some day, and you’re 65… and you were just so strung out on...people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life?” Anne Lamott

I did. Well, maybe not at 65, but I was in my late forties. My husband, to whom I had dedicated my time and talents helping (otherwise known as manipulating and controlling), had decided to return to college. We were living in my parents' home, where I cooked and cleaned and decorated. For them.  Or something. I had put my life on hold.  Again. Until he finished college. Until things were better. Until everyone was happy. Until I had made everyone think I was wonderful... I was doing all the right things for all the wrong reasons.

When I found myself blindly staring out the bedroom window, wringing my hands, tears dripping off my chin and unable to function without a clue what was wrong, I admitted I was in trouble.  And I didn't have a clue what the answer was for the first time in my life.

My journey from there to where I am today is a long one I won't bore you with. It has been worth every terrifying, painful, and beautifully trembling step. We were created with a secret dream our God wants us to share with Him. It is only as we share ourselves with the One who dreamed us, we can get a glimpse of this delightful life planned for us. Our hearts will sing. And it is then that we become the instruments for change we long to be. We become light in darkness. We become salt to season and preserve. We become branches attached to the vine that produce fruit.

A very wise man once told me that in order to "lay down my life for my friend," I had to actually have a life to lay down. Let's dare to fight the good fight today. Not against the people, places and things around us, but against the parts of ourselves that tell us lies. "It's too hard." "I'm not good enough yet." "People will laugh." Insert your lie here: "..."

Dare to take one teensy, tiny step in the direction your heart is longing to explore. And remember, I know you can do it. Keep me posted on your secret journey. Because I love you. Bunches.

Procrastination Habits

I like thinking about change, planning for change, talking about making changes. I enjoy the idea of changing. But when it comes right down to actually making a change, I get side-tracked. Instead of meeting the change head on, I find myself dreaming up a class to teach or beginning a new project.

I'll give you an example. When the time came to step out of my comfort zone and promote paintings, greeting cards and ARTformation Cards, I turned to sewing. When the sewing projects approached completion, I began needle felting an old wool coat.

I end up with some lovely projects, but the first task doesn't get done in a timely fashion.

The Professor and I are currently planning to move from the idyllic condo we have called home for the past 6 years. Sadly, I seem to be up to my old tricks of procrastination. Rather than packing our life  into the stacks of boxes it will take to move us to our next location,

I contacted a local store about selling my ARTformations and line of inspirational greeting cards.

And wrote this post.

So Far So Good

This past week I finally finished the load of journals I had waiting for paper and binding. Not counting the ones that have already found new homes, I have completed 43. Some of them I really like and some of them I fear will go unloved by anyone unless I do a little something more to them. I have, however, decided to wait to do that. Figure I can always use them myself as I journal daily.

Someone asked me recently if I had plans to start a business. Funny thing is that while the answer to that question is actually no, it seems I have started one. I've gotten my Tax I.D. number and the Reseller's Permit required in my state. I have a logo. I have begun to purchase supplies wholesale. I have a web presence. Weird.

All this started simply because I believe every human being has the innate ability to create.  My personal study over the last decade and the research of others more knowing than I support that belief. My original plan was to simply honor my journey by providing tools for people to nurture their personal creativity. To honor my journey by sharing the path I used to get where I am right now. And, voila! A business was born before I realized what had happened.

And strangely, God (or the Universe or whatever name you use) has been supportive. The other week while wandering the Farmer's Market, I had a conversation with a woman who creates wonderful journals from old childrens' book covers. She asked if I would have a use for some cut matte that a photographer had given her. As that is what I use as the base for my journal covers, I was thrilled. I was, however, shocked when I picked it up the following week. A heavy box of perfectly-sized, pre-cut matte board enough board for 144 journals! SCORE!

Synchronicity? Oh, yeah. I think I'm on the right path. And the journey continues.

Journals

Thanks to Julia Cameron and The Artist's Way, I journal in bed with my coffee most mornings. If you haven't yet read this classic creativity-boosting book, I urge you to do so this summer. You should be able to find it online or in your local used bookstore. Reading it transformed my life and I'd be surprised if it didn't do the same for you.

Anyway I dutifully write 3 pages longhand while sipping my morning coffee. Due to this practice and my basically frugal nature, I've been making my own journals for years. Originally I covered unlined composition books with pretty paper or fabric. But they would only last about a month and would not open flat the way a spiral-bound book would. So when I discovered the  Zutter Bind It All, I was hooked.  I've been cranking these wire-bound journals out for myself ever since.

Anyway, along with Artformation Cards, I've been making one-of-a-kind journals in a variety of sizes for sale/gifts lately. It obviously makes more sense for me to work in these smaller formats considering the current size of my studio, but I refuse to be completely sensible. I keep at least one larger piece in progress as well.

So I plan to have some reasonably-priced journals in various sizes available for some of the Holiday Boutiques this year. I'm thinking they'd make a great gift. I'll keep you posted as to where I'll be. If you are interested in seeing more, let me know. In the meantime, I'm having a blast playing with them.

Backwards Remembering

Another week has come and gone. For better or worse, it's over. So I'll joining the Gypsy Mama today with a Five Minute Friday posting.



You can join her too, easily. Just go on over to her site each Friday and get the prompt. Then finish what she gives you in 5 minutes. No editing,  it is what it is.  Post it to her site. That's it.
Oh, and let the person who told you about it know you're in. The prompt today is "Backwards."

Set the timer and...GO!
I've been doing a lot of looking backwards and remembering since I got my "commission" to honor my journey. Some of that has been enjoyable, such as seeing how much I have bloomed since I became willing to fearlessly (most of the time) move forward into the fresh life I have today. Looking at the difficult obstacles I have overcome and the lies I have replaced with truth has given me a sense of the possible. 

All that is a good and soothing kind of backward looking.

However, this week my experiences of looking backward have been accompanied with something new. A sorrow for the way I have been shaped. Perhaps the wondering of who I would have been if I had lived up to those idealistic ideas I had in my youth. Would I have been different? Perhaps a more judgmental than tolerant soul?

 I suppose only God can see that one clearly.

DING!!

Get On With the Rescued Life

I navigated my childhood, a world ruled by a steroid-powered, asthmatic mother and an um-medicated, bi-polar father. by becoming adept at reading body language. Becoming invisible at the twitch of impending "Roid Rage" or keeping an encouraging expression in the face of manic rantings became  well-honed skills. At the ripe old age of 25 months, I was painfully aware of the dangerous atmosphere of my household. So my little sister's arrival as a helpless infant gave my life a higher purpose. It catapulted me into the role of mentor and defender of the weak.

I became adept at monitoring her growing abilities and taught her what my young mind saw as the skills necessary to succeed in our household. For example, as soon as I saw she could do it, I taught her how to grasp bars of confinement and climb out of her crib. Years later I taught her to drive, sharing with her the power of automotive escape. Most of her life I parented her as my own and was given positive reinforcement for being a thoughtful and loving sister. I honestly thought loving someone meant parenting them.

Childhood survival skills shape our lives. They can become the stick  driving us to success or the chains keeping us anchored to failure. My toxic combination of skills kept me imprisoned until my fifties: the habit of using the smallest body language cue to guide my responses, the necessity of being aware of and defending the weak even at my own peril and pattern of denying my own needs in order to meet the perceived needs of others. These skills were what made me a much-desired team member, who was incapable of defend herself while also being an incredibly arrogant, pushy person.

I was in my fifties before I realized my helpful demeanor actually belittled others. Talk about a wake up call with a slap in the face! The parenting I was lavishly doling out to others was really really something I was sorely lacking. I had to realize that I am the weak who needs to lean on the strength of God. And much to my surprise, the God position was already occupied by One stronger and kinder than I!  I needed to pay attention to internal cues for my own defects and quit taking the inventory of others. (Ouch!) And that I needed to get on with the business of actually living this rescued life I've been given. Quit the blaming and making excuses and let the adventure begin!