Swirly Girl

Transitions

We have had multiple transitions going on in our household this month ~ the very well documented arrival of Tilda, the arrival of two family members who are staying with us as they go through their own transition to Santa Monica from Boulder, the return to my home studio, and the change in venue of my home studio.  My easel, painting supplies, and panels are all in a different room now, which is technically a guest bedroom.  But the room has a lot more light than my "official" home studio and isn't used that often, so I decided it was time to see how it feels to work in a different part of my home, where there is no computer and I can leave whatever mess I make intact when I finish for the day.

Although I am excited about this change, and I feel giddy anytime I step into that room and see my easel next to a big expanse of windows, my time in there will be minimal for a while.  The focus these days is on Tilda, my book, and my website, and in between those projects I still have to manage the usual array of household tasks.  It sounds more hectic than it really is, and everyday I feel a little more settled than the day before with Tilda.  She is teaching me so much ~ about patience, rest, laughter, and being totally present.  In those instances when I want to hand her off to the first person that comes knocking at my door, imagining days far in the future when she won't have razor sharp puppy teeth, I stop and remind myself that she won't be this little for very long.

She still is so small.  As fast as she's growing, and as big as her paws are (!) she is still so small.

Tilda is pulling me closer to the earth, to the day-to-day details of my life.  I decided this past weekend that I would stay off the internet, thinking it would be a challenge.  Instead it turned out to be the loveliest of gifts, for instead of perusing blogs and Twitter, I finished the book I was reading and played with Tilda, and soaked up a quiet weekend with my family.  Already I'm having a hard time imagining what our life was like before she joined us.

“Nothing is secure but life, transition, the energizing spirit.”  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Our Suffering

"Our suffering comes from the fact that we are attached to the outer form that something assumes in a given instant rather than the movable conversation that stands behind it.  Keeping up with what is occurring rather than lagging and getting caught in things that no longer exist, is one of the the great disciplines of life."  ~David Whyte, The Three Marriages

The Key

"Finding the key is a very old human motif.  Again and again, we have to find a way in through the door, and again and again, the stories say that the key is always right under our noses.  It is so much under our noses, in fact, that in the end we are always told we are the key.  We, each of us ~ as a foundational dynamic of life ~ have to find all the ways we fit in the lock.  We are the ones who turn in the door and open it.

As we find out later, getting through the door is never really the hard part, although we may think so at the time.  Though we may have expended a lot of effort to get to the entrance itself, to find the key and go through the door, the real difficulty in engaging with the self lies on the other side, waiting in the darkness.  All disciplines have crucial testing thresholds, thresholds that ask us if we are serious or if we want to turn back and do something else.  If we are equal to the test, it is also a time when we realize the greater import of what we have dedicated ourselves to.  At this threshold we find that there are dimensions that have absolutely nothing to do with our particular comfort or happiness, that in actual fact we are involved with others as much as, if not more than, ourselves and this takes an ability to actually get beyond that small self that first searched for the key and turned it in the door."

David Whyte, The Three Marriages

Huge

[Photo taken in Argentina in 2006.]

I can now officially share some BIG NEWS, and what I am most excited about in this moment is that once I spill the beans I can then share what these last few weeks have felt like ~ the few weeks when I've had to keep this on the down-low while I waited for all the details to be finalized.

The news is this ~ in November 2011 my next book ~ a book about inspiration and intentions ~ will be released by North Light Books.  I submitted a proposal for the book last April, and after a number of revisions, adjustments and re-arrangements, it was finally presented to the powers that be and given a green light for publication.  I got word last month on a Friday, and within a few days all the details regarding deadlines, permissions, and file formats were sent to me, the basic message being "Time to get to work!"  The contract was finalized last week, which means it is, indeed, time to get to work, and I can now let this piece of news fly freely.  

Whew.

I'm not quite sure where to begin sharing my feelings about this project, so I'll start with the word that most everyone who was let in on this little secret used when I told them about it:  HUGE.  It always went something like this:

Me:  "Hey, guess what?  It looks like I got a book deal."

Other Person:  "Really?  That's HUGE!"

I always followed this with an explanation about having to wait for the contract to be finalized before I really celebrated, feeling like everyone thought it was strange that I wasn't jumping up and down like a little girl who's about to get a new puppy.  But it wasn't only my cautious side taking the reins, there was ~ and still is ~ a part of me wanting to savor this news quietly.  In other words, this period of time I've had to let it sink in slowly has been incredibly precious, because it gave me time to really consider what it means ~ for my life, career, and self ~ to secure a book deal, which is an accomplishment that I think is often held up as one of the penultimate achievements in the blogosphere.

The term book deal has been synonymous with success, validity, and recognition ~ one of those pursuits that carries such a heavy burden of expectations that I have felt downright wary at times of my desire to pursue having another book published.  I have taken time now and then to check in with myself, to explore what was motivating me to create and submit one book proposal after another (lest you think I just hit a home run on my first try, this is the fourth book proposal I have sent in as many years.)  There were some days when I had to admit my intentions weren't altogether pure ~ when I had to admit part of my desire was to keep up with one person or outshine another, or because I felt like I was in a race against time and I simply had to make something HUGE happen.  I had those days, and I had to face them openly and honestly, had to stop what I was doing and remember what I so often forget ~ that a book deal doesn't come with a certificate that says, "You have now MADE IT, and are hereby granted a permanent, profound contentment with your life.  Well done!"

Instead, this is what this opportunity has given me, and what I've been pondering since last month:

* Responsibility ~ To North Light, to my editor, to the magnificent women who agreed to contribute to the book (who you will meet soon), to anyone and everyone who might pick up this book and read it.  I have a job to do, which is to create the best book I can create, and give something to the world that is positive and inspiring.

* Humility ~ This is an incredible opportunity, and I am honored North Light decided to invest in this idea.  I don't see this as a gift that was handed to me for any reason other than I have worked very hard in this industry ~ for fifteen years now ~ and the only way I will continue having opportunities like this is if I keep working hard.  Remember my favorite quote from Jenny Doh?  She said it perfectly:

"The lesson I've learned through it all is this:  Work hard.  ALWAYS WORK HARD.  And always be committed to quality and attention to details.  Because when you do, you create a foundation of credibility that can weather anything ~ a foundation upon which you can construct with unbridled imagination, your destiny."

* Gratitude ~ I get to write a book!  And work with a circle of amazing, extraordinary women who are granting their time, attention and inspiration to this project!  And I won't have to write, create, edit, format, press check, pack, ship, distribute, market, promote and sell this book all on my own!  I loved publishing Ordinary Sparkling Moments myself, but let me tell you, I am thrilled beyond belief that I now get to collaborate with North Light.  That is what feels HUGE in my heart right now ~ gratitude.

* Trust ~ I don't think I have ever set forth on a new creative journey feeling as expansive and open as I do right now.  This book is going to come together perfectly, and I know that even though ~ believe it or not ~ I do not have an especially detailed vision of what this book will look like.  I don't feel like I am taking a hammer and chisel to a piece of rock, which I need to shape into a form already worked out in my mind, as much as I feel like a channel, where I am taking in a million pieces of light and letting them tell me where they want to go.  And if I do my job, then ~ voila!  There will be a book.  My job is to serve the book, and the book will guide me.  I trust its voice; I have already heard it.

And with that, it is time to get to work, because the first two chapters are due in less than two months.

"Don't be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality.  If you can dream it, you can make it so."  ~Belva Davis

Explore. Dream. Discover.

First off ~ I cannot take credit for tracking down the photo above.  The uber-fabulous Charlotte Tarantola sent it to me, and we're now trying to figure out how we could re-create something similar in my backyard.  I mean really ~ a dinner party in a pool?  That's just too groovy for words.

While I ponder the odds of finding a baby pool big enough to hold a table and four chairs, I am in the midst of a period of overwhelm with regard to all the projects I'm trying to manage right now.  It must be said that there is no one to blame for this overwhelm except for yours truly, as it has always been my habit to take on more than I ought to.  The scary part is that as I try to figure out how to stay on top of everything, other ideas continue to lure me in new directions.  That is my brain ~ it is like the red-lit ticker above Times Square, with visions, ideas and brainstorms constantly streaming through my consciousness.  On any given day, I have moments where I think about how fun and magnificent a new idea might be, but have to immediately let it go, knowing there are simply not enough hours in the day to do it all.

I know this feeling of overwhelm will subside.  This is a pattern in my life that has been in place ever since I can remember.  In many of my old journals, I bemoan the fact that I can't seem to find "balance", critical of my tendency to dive into things without always thinking them through.  But then I decided to take a different approach, which is to accept that this is the way I am and that I will always have a certain level of intensity and activity in my life.  This has its merits and its frustrations, and I will likely continue trying to tweak certain habits here and there, but the beauty in acceptance is that I avoid the emotional extremes of these experiences.

In other words, the period of overwhelm I'm experiencing right now isn't paralyzing me or freaking me out.  I know it won't last, and the fact that I am having to manage so many meaningful projects is the most loveliest of "problems".  This is part of the process of embarking on any new adventure, and I'll take a few episodes of overwhelm over playing it safe any day.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.  So throw off the bowlines.  Sail away from the safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover.”  ~Mark Twain

In Service

[Geraniums in Jordan, taken earlier this year.]

It is late again, and I am using this time to try to write something meaningful here.  My husband was out this evening, so after I got home from the studio around 5:00, I continued to work all evening until he came home around 9:30.  All the time spent catching up on emails, working on my website and getting another round of books for the 100 Books Project ready to ship is time that won't be taken away from the studio tomorrow.  On the one hand, I know anyone observing me would think I'm a little bit of a lunatic, all action and movement.  On the other hand, it feels more to me like I am relaxing into the flow of things rather than swimming against a current.  Even though it probably wouldn't do any harm for me to slow things down a bit, I am in one of those modes I often get into where things are clicking so well I can't help but want to run with it ~ all of it.  I am content to run and leap and dance, knowing there will be time to rest soon enough.  Stillness will come, but for now I am an eager and willing servant to my dreams.

“Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.”  ~Goethe

Sparkling Tidbits

[Beautiful Mess Inside :: To see the progress of this piece, go here.]

"If I'm going to do something that could be provocative or artistically relevant, I have to be prepared to put myself in a place where I feel unsafe, not completely in control. I have no fear of failure whatsoever, because often out of that uncertainty something is salvaged, something that is worthwhile comes about. There is no progress without failure. And each failure is a lesson learned. Unnecessary failures are the ones where an artist tries to second guess an audience's taste, and little comes out of that situation except a kind of inward humiliation."  ~ David Bowie

In the midst of all the adventures I'm currently having in the studio, much goodness abounds...

* A feature about the 100 Books Project is in the current issue of Somerset Studio.

* An essay about my very personal foray into collage journaling - and how it led to the creation of Ordinary Sparkling Moments - is in the current issue of Art Journaling.

* My latest essay is up in the Wish Studio.

* Many of my latest creations will be up for grabs at a show at my studio Saturday, July 17th, 2010.  The show will be that evening - details forthcoming!

* Have you registered for the Fall Squam Art Workshops?  There are still spots left in my Book in a Day class with Marisa Haedike!

* And I apologize for teasing, but an insanely exciting development for the studio is taking shape and I'll be announcing it right here at the beginning of next week.  I'm giddy!

I'm Getting It

[Preparing for a show on July 17, 2010 in the studio.]

After hemming and hawing about Doing versus Saying recently, I attended a day-long meditation retreat led by Karen Maezen Miller this past weekend, where I was told rather matter-of-factly that I don't really need to do anything, that whatever is going to happen will happen in its own way, and my work is to deal with all of these unfoldings as they occur rather than try to bend them to my will.  I'm paraphrasing, but the not needing to do anything part I remember very well.  Because this wasn't so much entirely new information as it was an affirmation of an inkling that has been quietly growing in my mind for a while, a seed that was first planted by Maezen herself.

I've so often crowded my mind with the idea that I need to go to great lengths to make sure everyone understands where I stand and why.  I am this and not that; I value those things but not these things.  I have gone through this transformation, which means I must say that out loud, and explain in great detail about all the hows and whys this transformation happened.

But I'm starting to get it now.  Bit by bit, day by day. 

I am where I am right now, and where this moment and all the moments before it will lead me, I don't know.  I might have ideas and I might have desires.  There might be needs that must be attended to (for example, I know in less than an hour the clothes that are now in my dryer will need to be folded) and obligations that have to be fulfilled.  But beyond these generalizations, I am simply living my days as best as I can, and it really doesn't serve me to get too wrapped up in whether or not this makes sense to everyone else.

I have had to learn - through an incredibly painful loss - how to stay centered in my own sense of self, self-worth and goodness.  Because of the stories certain people in my life have chosen to believe about me, I have had to integrate an almost-daily practice of reminding myself who I am in order not to get pulled into the quicksand of believing the ideas these people have of me.

(I am now on the verge of slipping way too far in the Too Much Personal Information category, but in order to avoid anyone reading this and wondering what I'm getting at here - this has nothing to do with anyone who reads this blog.)

I share this little sliver of Too Much Personal Information to explore why I have felt the need to explain, justify and prove myself - and my goodness - to the world.  I might have become skilled at avoiding the pitfalls of giving credence to certain opinions, but I see now it is time to face the pitfalls of one of my defense mechanisms against these opinions, which is that I tend to go overboard in the area of trying to make myself seen, heard and understood.  On this blog.  In letters.  Over email.  On the phone.  With my husband.  At my friend's house.

But I'm starting to get it now.  Bit by bit, day by day.

I don't need to do anything.  It isn't necessary to go out of my way to express something that most people likely aren't interested in.  I can rest in the truth of my actions, and find solace in the knowledge that they will speak for themselves.  And hopefully, if I stay true to my intentions and live mindfully throughout each day, these actions will speak of the peace that never leaves us, and the freedom in letting go of our fears.

“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself."  ~ Zen Proverb

Progress

 

The crazy part?  This series of photos showing the progress of this piece is missing the entire first half of its story.  I began working on this piece in my studio at home many weeks ago, and it started with my pulling off layer after layer after layer from an entirely different piece until I had a deconstructed composition I liked, which was the top image.

That is what it looked like when I brought it into the other studio earlier this month and I have since added many new layers.  I can't really explain why, but this piece has a hold on me, and I don't think I'll have the heart to hang it in the show I'm in next month.  I rarely get attached to my creations - most of the time I am happy to release them.  But every once in a while I want to keep something for at least a little while, so I've learned to just go with that and not obligate myself to let go of anything I've created before I'm ready.

This piece hangs in my studio and reminds me to go as far as I can with every creation, to never shy away from the pursuit of creating something that makes my heart sing in order to play it safe so I can create things I merely like.

"Control, apparently, is not the answer.  People who need certainty in their lives are less likely to make art that is risky, subversive, complicated, iffy, suggestive or spontaneous.  What's really needed is nothing more than a broad sense of what you are looking for, some strategy for how to find it, and an overriding willingness to embrace mistakes and surprises along the way.  Simply put, making art is chancy - it doesn't mix well with predictability.  Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to your desire to make art.  And tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding."  ~Art & Fear

Dewdrops

On our recent trip to Big Sur, most of our time there was spent inside reading while the fog stayed close to shore and blocked our view of just about everything.  One of these mornings I became obsessed with the dewdrops, and walked all over the place trying to capture their sparkle.

On one part of a trail that went through a small grove of redwoods, I stood still and listened to the water drops plopping down on other leaves, branches and the ground.  I realized then that that is one of the most serene and beautiful sounds on the planet.

I loved the way the dewdrops clung to leaves, vines, flowers, branches and stems.

And I loved how pearly and white they looked in certain kinds of light.

"Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it."  ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow