Swirly Girl

The Spark of an Idea

[Before the crowds arrived, Saturday night at the CORE show.]

If you saw me walking along Montana Avenue in Santa Monica about eighteen months ago, you would not have seen me stop to take a closer look at a dress form that caught my eye as I made my way up the street.  You would not have had any inkling that, once the dress form entered my consciousness, it sparked an idea.  Nothing would have seemed out of the ordinary; you would never have guessed that the flame of a new creative direction was lit in that moment.  You would have simply seen me walking.

The idea that was sparked that day came to me in the form of a question:  What would it be like to work on a mannequin?  Less than 24 hours and one google search later, a mannequin was on its way to me even though I had no earthly idea what I was going to do with it once it arrived at my doorstep.  That is how I tend to operate.  My strength is not in detailed, involved planning or thinking and figuring things out ahead of time.  I tend to dive in and ask questions later.  Sometimes this works well, other times not so much, but I've never tried to change this approach.  I've learned to accept the ups and downs that come with it.

This particularly diving in scenario has most certainly been a steady series of ups.  More than I could have ever imagined.

As I stood in Anne Carmack's studio a few minutes before the CORE show was set to officially begin this past Saturday, I couldn't help but marvel at how one inexplicable idea to work on the surface of a mannequin led to that moment, a moment when I was standing in a beautiful studio surrounded by the creations of more than a dozen other artists who heeded a call to try their hand at working on the same form.  There was beauty and color and sparkling lights, friends from all over, and stories of struggles, frustrations and breakthroughs.  And nestled in the cracks of every tiny detail that made the show come to life was one simple truth:  All it takes is an idea, and a willingness to pursue that idea.  Because once that idea is given fuel, it has greater potential than I can imagine.

I decided to work on a mannequin, and this led to discussions about that process with Marisa and Anne, among others.  And Anne decided to put out a siren call to a long list of artists, asking them to give it a shot too.  And many of them responded, and they responded with passion, devotion and honesty.  And then Saturday night, we stood amongst a crowd of female forms adorned with feathers, zippers, fabric, butterflies, rulers, charms, trinkets, tissue paper flowers, and a deep pink cape-let with a foxtail.  And crowds of people wandered in between these creations, a peeked inside, looked them up and down, examined their details and, I'd bet my life on this - went home inspired.

[To see the form I created for CORE, click here.  More pictures can be found here, here and here!]

Filtering

[Taken in Tokyo earlier this year.]

This is a typical Tokyo view, where each of the signs stacked vertically is for a different shop or business.  Views like this are everywhere throughout the city; they go on for miles, as far as the eye can see.  As sprawling as Tokyo is, I always get the feeling that their main goal as a society is to utilize every inch of space available.  Tokyo feels endless, whether looking down a single street like the one pictured above or seeing it from the top of one of its many skyscrapers.  It goes on and on.  But it feels orderly, and there is beauty all around, from the manhole covers to the department store windows.

I think it says a lot about a city, community and a person to see how they utilize their space - whether physical, emotional or temporal.  Are there empty spaces that invite quiet reflection?  Does it feel organized or haphazard?  Energetic and lively or tense and abrasive? 

Life, finally, feels like it has slowed down to a more manageable pace.  Our house is cleared out of guests and roommates, all my major projects for the year are complete, and even though I know the holidays will bring their own brand of busy-ness, I can look at my time between now and the end of the year and see...emptiness.  A wide open expanse.  Nothingness. 

Just as I've purged piles of material objects out of my house and studio since September, it is now time to pay attention to the nagging questions, the thorns, the irritations, the issues I haven't dealt with and the reflections on what felt right this year, what felt comfortable, and what no longer fits.  My studio has been pared down to just the essentials - and I even sold my car, a daring maneuver in Los Angeles - and it is time to go through the same exercise within my heart and mind.

"Look within!... The secret is inside you."  ~Hui-neng

Haven

[Taken in Bournemouth, UK :: February 2008]

Conversation between my husband and I, this morning in our kitchen:

Him:  "We can make as much noise as we want!"

Me:  "And I can run around naked!"

It was tempting to share just that and let everyone wonder what we were talking about.  I even contemplated opening it up to interpretation, asking readers to take a stab at what event, interest or circumstance they thought might have inspired such an exchange.  But instead, I'll share this story...

During the year of my divorce I was slightly homeless.  I lived in five different places in one year - my house, my Swirly studio, a room in a friend's house, an apartment on a Montecito estate, and then finally, in my own cozy cottage behind the Santa Barbara Mission.  In the midst of all this relocating, I also spent many nights with friends and experienced a period of time that taught me the art of receiving.  Despite the fact that much of my world was crumbling, I felt supported, cared for and loved.  After the worst of the storm, I told myself that if and when I had the opportunity to give back to those I loved - particularly in terms of providing a safe haven - I would do so.

Fast forward to today, when the conversation above took place.  Because today is the first day our home is officially empty, and that is a statement I have not been able to make in five months.  And I don't mean we've had a lot of house guests over the past five months, I mean we've had a lot of house guests as well as dear friends living with us.  And a wedding reception!  From the beginning of June until today, this house has been a haven for friends and family from all over the world, reaching such a fever pitch that I have actually had to tell a number of my dearest friends that we could not accommodate them. 

Don't misunderstand me - my intention behind this story is not to complain.  I am just sharing one specific facet of our life that has been an exercise in compassion, generosity, patience, mindfulness, setting boundaries, knowing my limits, and savoring joyous abundance.  And recognizing that while I made a commitment to myself many years ago to create a home that would hold those I love with comfort and quiet, I need to find more pathways that will enable me to do this without inspiring my husband and I to move into a one-bedroom condo in Greenland where no one will want to visit. 

It is that saying:  Be careful what you wish for.  The good news is that I have learned all too well the truth of that phrase, and I have developed a greater awareness of what wishes, intentions and personal commitments can create.  Quite simply, they can create exactly what is envisioned.  They can come true; they can become real.

So my vision today is to be in this home with my husband.  Period.  To run around naked with music blaring because I can.  The time will come soon enough when we will feel ready to open our doors again, but for now, we're wrapping our arms around each other and curling up in the silence, letting this be a safe haven for our need for solitude, for space, for being.

Our Choices Are Our Opportunities

[Taken in Bournemouth, UK :: February 2008]

Beliefs about the best way to walk through life are a funny thing.  I find that no matter how grand or mundane mine are, they share a similar trajectory.  They first find their way into my consciousness - maybe I see an example of how I want to live my life (or how I don't) or perhaps I read something that sings to me in a book.  From there I make the choice to embrace the belief, and a mantra of sorts begins to guide me through any number of situations.  Sometimes a belief clicks into place immediately, but most of the time it takes a while for it to become truly embedded in my day to day life.  And it isn't terribly uncommon for me to slip into negative patterns, reactions and mindsets along the road of trying to turn a belief into something much more fundamental:  Who I am, and how I live my life. 

What I have learned is that if I truly want to embrace a certain way of living and being in this world, I must always be cognizant of the impact of my choices, for they are the stepping stones to the wide open space of light I want to be in as much as possible.  And by light I mean a clear conscious that is free of all the strangely alluring, ego-centered, emotional strings that are capable of yanking me into a downward spiral if I'm not vigilant.  I have learned that when I make a commitment to be a certain way, shift a certain story or remove certain patterns and dynamics from my life, I am presented with countless opportunities to put those values into play.  And every time these opportunities fall into my lap, I am free to make whatever choice I want to make.  It isn't uncommon for my ego and emotions to try to pull me away from the light I seek - to keep telling the story of how I was hurt or wronged, to communicate from a place of fear - but when I stay focused on who I really want to be, the choices become very easy.  Do I want to talk a big talk about who I want to be or do I want to simply be who I want to be?

With each new tenet that I decide to enfold into my life, it feels like I start with a lot of loose threads, and all the opportunities I get to put these beliefs and values into action provide me with the means to weave them together and tie them securely along the edges.  What is so amazing and gratifying is to make the choice to step into the light - to take those opportunities to tie a little knot here and a little knot there - and then suddenly all that effort is rewarded with a profound sense of wholeness, clarity and light.  The splinter that was stuck in my finger for months suddenly slides out; the stain that kept appearing on my shirt finally washes away.  After telling myself 999 times "A + B = C", on that one thousandth repeat, that piece of knowledge finally rolls around in my brain one last time before it sinks right down into my gut, where it clicks firmly into place for good.  This doesn't mean I am infallible, that I won't still drift or wander or react, but it means I'll be able to find my way back to the light much quicker. 

I know I used a lot of metaphors in that last paragraph, but they all fit.  They all represent a process that has served me incredibly well.  But this process only works if I am willing to make the choices that will serve whatever ideals, standards and beliefs I aim to embody, knowing it might take a hundred tiny choices before I fully experience the effects of my efforts in the form of wholeness, clarity and light.  And:  Joy.

Our choices are our opportunities - to grow, to release, to evolve.  They are seeds that create a garden, threads that make a quilt, bricks that form a foundation, stars that sparkle on our darkest nights, showing us the way home. 

Wanting

Every once in a while I feel such a desperate longing to hold onto everything that is real and true in my life I have the urge to literally reach my arms out, wanting to somehow cling to all of it, hold it close, and prevent it from slipping away.

The thought of missing my husband, knowing I will see him the next day.

The sight of a beautifully patterned curtain against a turquoise blue wall.

The recognition of all the ways love has been nurtured and fought for within the circle of my family.

It is these experiences and so many others that I want to harness into a bottle that can be tightly corked.

These moments make me ache, not only with gratitude and joy but with the bittersweet knowledge that clinging is an impossibility, and these moments are fleeting.  None of it can be captured; none of what I have experienced thus far in my life can be held in any permanent form.  In these moments of wanting everything to remain as it is, I must accept that this is not the nature of life, and I must continue to enjoy all that is real and true in my life or else miss out on all those beautiful details by dreading the day they change form.

Movement

[Purple cacti in Anza Borrego last spring]

"Do not wait; the time will never be "just right'. Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along."  ~Napolean Hill

For more on this, read my latest entry in The Wish Studio.

Listening to Rain

[Stormy afternoon in Hilton Head, South Carolina.  Taken last weekend.]

I am still catching up on things after a long weekend away in South Carolina, where the main staple was not a specific vegetable or dish, but simply FRIED.  And can I say?  Fried = good, which means it's a good thing I don't have easy access to the fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, hush puppies, fried shrimp and peanut butter pie (not fried, but just as addicting) I indulged in all weekend long. 

I had not been in that part of the country in many years, not since I moved from Athens, Georgia after finishing graduate school and moving to Santa Barbara.  We flew into Atlanta and drove to Hilton Head for a wedding, and every moment of the weekend was dripping in nostalgia.  Not only did I spend three years in Athens, but I also spent three formative years in Jacksonville, North Carolina - 3rd, 4th & 5th grades - where I spent hours and hours on the beach every summer.  Everything from the roadside signs for boiled peanuts to the crooked wooden fences along the beach sparked a memory, or if not an intact memory, a feeling that washed through me in an instant, and disappeared just as quickly.  It sometimes felt like the scent of french fries at the beach was just beyond my reach, and the quiet of all the nights I spent working late as a grad student were close enough to touch.  All these moments brushed past me like shy moths; the minute I'd turn to get a closer look they were off, making me wonder if they were ever really there in the first place.

Invitations

[Candle for L.M.]

I have a friend, and that friend is brave.  And she is strong.  And she is wise.

And I want to put aside the fact that these words could easily be applied to her battle with cancer, because while this story has to do with that battle, it is really about so much more.

It is about what she is teaching me, and how strange it feels to receive what I need to work through another issue in my life by simply sitting by her side, holding her hand, and listening.  I feel like I should be the one giving her the tools and words that might help her, that I should be the one providing the stepping stones she needs.  I feel like I should be carrying her.

But no.  I am learning from her, and trying to follow her example.  Trying, as hard as I can, to face a difficulty that feels feeble next to hers with the same kind of grace, integrity and courage I see in her.

This is not the first time cancer has come knocking on my friend's door, only this time it came pounding, crashing through the walls, determined to wreak havoc.  After a long and difficult recovery from surgery, my friend explained that she now had to find a way to invite chemotherapy into her life, as she had been dreading it for weeks.  She learned the effectiveness of this approach with weekly visits from a nurse, visits that involved pain and discomfort, visits she dreaded.  Until the day she decided she needed to look forward to the visits, and find something positive in them, so she did, and a week later no further visits were required.  And now again, she must look ahead to chemotherapy, and invite it into her life, into her body, into this journey to recovery.

Those were the words that struck me:  "I have to invite this into my life."

I tucked those words into my bag and carried them home with me.  I rolled them around in the palm of my hand like marbles and considered what they meant, and how they might help me face an issue I'd been trying to avoid for months.  OK, years.

And last week, not 24 hours after I saw my friend, I took my first step towards dealing with this issue as head on as I'm capable of right now, repeating the mantra over and over again:  "I have to invite this into my life."  And while it is just one step on what I know will be a long journey, it is always those first steps that are the most daunting, so it is a relief to know that step has been taken.  I don't yet feel strong or grounded, don't feel wise or evolved or brave.  I feel wobbly, frustrated, and still angry that I even need to go through any of this.  I have no confidence that I will march through this with my dignity intact every step of the way.  I know I will fall, slip, and throw rocks in frustration; I will probably still try to avoid it in strange ways.

I am inviting this into my life, and I have my friend to thank for those seven magic words.  Her example and her words have provided me with the key that I thought I would never find, the key I wasn't, quite frankly, necessarily trying that hard to locate.

My apologies for being vague, but the details don't matter.  We are all facing our own battles, and these words can light up the sky in anyone's darkness, however that darkness took hold.

For with this light, with my friend's example, this road might be a tough one but it will not consume me as it has in the past.  This is but one thread, and today is just one day.  I have only taken one step and barely had one week to put this mantra to the test.  But it is a beginning, and today, that is enough.

Squam Art Workshops :: On Impressions

[Flowers from Squam Art Workshops June 2009, all unique and one-of-a-kind]

I’m just going to dive right in, and begin this entry with something someone said to me in one of the few quiet conversations I had at SAW.  In a discussion about blogging, marketing and the blogging community, my companion said that she had the impression that certain members of the blogging community – myself included – were part of an exclusive circle of BFFs who all knew, loved and supported each other.  I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it.  Her motivation for wanting to talk about this and learn more about our circle was to learn how we connect with one another and how we market and support our own and each other’s work through these connections.

Her comment stayed with me, and the thoughts I’ve been having about it since then are twofold.  One, it is disheartening that this is the impression someone has and I was happy to dispel the myth, and two, as much as I don’t want that to be the impression anyone has, I’m not at all comfortable with the idea of having to “prove” to the world that this isn’t the case.  Not to mention the fact that no matter what I say or do, people are going to believe whatever they want to believe.  This is something I have learned the hard way, that I cannot control what anyone else says, does or thinks, a truth that has taken months of focused attention to fully embrace with an open heart.  So while a year ago I might have wanted to write a post saying, “No, no, no…we’re not exclusive and we’re not all super-connected, and let me give you examples to prove my point…” right now I am instead wanting to write a post that expresses how important it is for each and every one of us in this community – which includes those of us who attend SAW - to be aware of what stories we choose to cling to.

I think it is easy to see what we want to see in any given situation, and as humans with egos we are going to gravitate towards the stories that place us in the best light possible.  I don’t say this from a place of judgment but of observation.  I do it, you do it, my husband does it; I bet even from time to time the Dalai Lama does it.  I can also state from experience that in many instances I have found the path to my truest self by observing others and seeing things I know I do not want to be.  For most of my life I saw myself in these situations as better than the other person, as in, “I’ll never do that or be like that.”  That’s right – judgmental, egotistic, arrogant.  What I have been challenging myself to do in recent years is to instead observe my own reactions to someone else’s behavior and look at why that reaction is happening, and from there, if I come to see that their behavior is something I do not want to replicate, I say “Thank you for the lesson,” and move on.  This is sometimes easier said than done, as I’m clearly not the Dalai Lama, but I have to say that the more I see my “adversaries” – or anyone who does things differently than I do - as my teachers, the better I feel.  For me, it is all about living my life in a way that is meaningful, and letting everyone around me do the same in their own way.  I can learn all kinds of things from observing the behavior of others, but I need to be careful about clinging to and creating stories that only serve to boost my ego.

How does all of this relate to SAW?  I think it is worth sharing in this series of SAW posts because I am well aware of the impressions, fears, and anxieties some people have of the group dynamics of this gathering.  And I’m not here to try to prove to anyone that they don’t exist, I’m wanting to express how important it is I think anyone attending SAW do four things:

*  Keep expectations to a minimum.

*  Come as you are and be as you are.  Nothing more, nothing less.

*  Remember that no one knows everything there is to know about another human being.  We all go to New Hampshire with our own mixed bag of desires, needs and energy levels, and impressions don’t = truth.  They’re just impressions.

*   Ask for what you want.  This, I know, is not always easy, but it was the only piece of advice I gave my companion that I think was truly helpful.  I explained to her that anyone I know (or know of) who has organized shows, retreats, and events, written books, and created close connections with fellow bloggers has done so by simply putting it out in the world and asking our community for help (or a coffee date).  There isn’t any “exclusive club”; we’re all just trying to live our lives and do something meaningful, and we are all driven by a desire to encourage others to do the same.  We’ve all created what we want in our lives by asking for what we want in a number of different ways.  In fact, this is exactly how SAW got started – Elizabeth asked teachers to teach, asked Rockywold-Deephaven Campground to host, asked people to come.  It’s just that simple.

I will share one more tiny snippet which I hope will help dispel any fears potential SAW attendees have that start with, “What will people think of me?”  I, too, came to SAW this year concerned about how certain people would see me and treat me.  (Long story).  Over the course of the weekend, my fears were completely dispelled, and I walked away from this realizing that just as I had feared some would judge me, I had judged them, projecting my anxieties onto them before we'd even met, all as a way to “defend” myself against any potential hurt.  When I was sharing this story with Marisa, she looked at me and said, “Well here’s something for you to chew on – maybe they haven’t been thinking about you as much as you think they have, if at all!”  As soon as she said this I burst out laughing, immediately seeing I had forgotten one other fundamental truth:  Other people probably have better and more interesting things to think about than me.  And this is true for everyone – with so much in our hearts and minds when we come to SAW I think it is safe to say there aren’t many of us who have enough brain space to take a look around the cafeteria, analyze everyone’s behavior, and contemplate whether or not we like it.  And this is where Elizabeth’s focused, passionate intention comes into play:  SAW does not attract that kind of energy, so even if it manages to sneak in under the radar, it is quickly extinguished because it has nothing to feed on.

We all come to SAW wanting the same things:  To be creative, to meet and see friends, to enjoy the environment, to feel safe, to let go of worrying about cooking and cleaning, to miss our families, to feel good.  How these needs get met is going to look different for each and every one of us, and that is what makes SAW beautiful.  There are no requirements to be anything other than who you are and this, I believe, is SAW’s greatest gift.

>>>>>THURSDAY GIVE AWAY:  A 6x8 wall art plaque from The Christine Mason Miller Collection, shown below.  Enter a comment to enter the drawing!

Yesterday's winner is the Enchanting Tara!  Send me an email Tara to claim your goodies!

Squam Art Workshops :: On Roles

During high school and college, my Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were always spent at the same place:  Honeybaked Ham.  If you're not familiar with HH, it is (or at least was back in the day) the go-to spot for holiday hams.  Our local store always had lines wrapping around the block in November and December, so my friends and I had a reliable source for extra cash during breaks from school.  I worked at HH for many years, and during that time I had every possible job available in the store.  I eventually reached the coveted spot of bookkeeper, but only after climbing up the ranks from my first position as "ham pusher", which involved bundling up and working in the refrigerator pushing hams up to the front of the shelves that opened up to the retail counter.  I worked the deli counter, arranged party trays, re-stocked sauces, wrapped hams, and took phone orders.  If HH had merit badges, I'd have walked away with a sash full of them.

I am beginning to feel the same way about Squam Art Workshops (SAW).  I have been at all three events and at each have played a variety of different roles.  I have been a student and a guest speaker, sold my wares at vendor night and taught.  I've volunteered, moderated a panel discussion, made signs, written up name tags, hauled boxes, and assisted with check-in.  I am committed to SAW, I believe in SAW, and once I make up my mind to give my energy to something, I go all out, which explains why, after all three events, I've returned home wanting to do nothing more than sleep for a week.

Over the past week or so since I've been back home, I have been thinking a lot about my role at SAW, and feel fortunate to have so many different experiences to look to for guidance on what I really want to do there.  On the one hand, it is part of my nature to try to take on as much as I can, and this September's event was no exception.  And I don't regret going for it the way I did, even though at the end of it I was running on fumes.  Because although I was physically and mentally drained, I was emotionally full, my only unfulfilled desire being a wish for more time - for stillness, for meeting new people, for walks in the woods.

I am now taking an inventory of everything I've done at SAW and challenging myself to take on less at next year's events.  Not because I don't want to give SAW my all, but because I recognize that 99% of my energy is sent outward when I am there, and I would like to bring that down a notch.  I went to this September's events with a number of different intentions and goals, and I am happy to say most of them were fulfilled.  I am proud of this, but also see that it is time for me to start playing with the idea of fewer goals and an intention of greater balance.  I don't yet know what that will look like, but when I think about my role at SAW next year, this is what is on my mind.

It is hard in a situation like SAW not to want to do it all, take in as much as possible and feel like there is a herculean standard that must be lived up to in order to make the experience worthwhile.  The experience of SAW has been built up like nothing I've ever seen thanks to all the gushing blog posts - which SAW deserves, absolutely - and I think it can be hard to go into it without certain expectations.  I think it is also easy to see what one wants to see when there, and entirely possible for pre-conceived notions to shape the way the weekend unfolds for each of us (more on this tomorrow). 

All that said, my goal now is to let go of trying to do it all and make choices.  I need to choose what to let go of, what to say no to, and what to invite into my SAW experiences.  It is not possible to sculpt what I want into a perfectly finished idea that I can carry in my suitcase; whatever plans I make or intentions I set will be thrown off kilter by one thing or another.  That is the nature of anything in life - I plan, things change, I adapt.  And then, before I know it, whatever imaginings I've held in my heart for months will play themselves out (or not) and then it will be over, and I'll be back home again to dream a new dream, and start planning for the next gathering.

>>>>>WEDNESDAY GIVE AWAY:  Free Stationery Set!  Enter a comment and the winner will be announced tomorrow.  

Yesterday's winner is the divine Leah!  Drop me a line Leah so I can send you your LOOT!