I want to be here in this Messy Canvas space, present and plopping down letters and images on the keyboard, watching the white space fill with every alphabet stroke and photo placement. I have resisted it, or rather the consistency of it, for a very long time. And that is okay because it takes time to realize first of all that I am resisting something, secondly that I am the one standing in my own way and thirdly that pieces must be reshuffled if priorities are going to change.
I go through the day with a bazillion things that warrant plunking key strokes, but usually when I get the chance to sit and stare at this screen they all feel small and insignificant and well over half of these brilliant ideas I've lost somewhere, either down the garbage disposal, down the back of the couch or down behind the washer and dryer.
And maybe there is some understandable pressure put on myself because didn't I use to be a prolific blogger with a big spiritual crisis to document and what if nothing ever feels that big again, and yet what if, to me, this feels bigger because it is small and manageable, simple and sustaining, wild and wonder-full, i.e. childlike. (Childlike was one of my words I picked for a year.)
But as I'm reading The Artist's Way, I am re-membering that this is how one begins anything meaningful. It is how an artist begins every piece of art, big ideas with a big heart that suddenly feel tiny and fragile and trembly when exposed to the light. At the outset It doesn't always look like what you thought it might. So it's no surprise either that I'm having flashbacks to years ago when I picked the word vulnerable for a year and had to remind myself that I'm not a robot.
And maybe there's some embarrassment, like I should already know this. That isn't true though. This isn't the sort of lesson one learns once and for all. It is the sort of artistic cycle that becomes a repetitive practice. Much like rising in the morning to pee and brush my teeth and step on the scale because the scale is there.
I am wanting to do things for fun because I love them and blogging is one of those things. Connecting with other people who are being vulnerable and daring to use their magic, even when it feels bigger on the inside than it appears on the outside. I know from experiencing The Magic School correspondence that when we talk about it our magic will swell, expand, root in and rise up. It will become very, very real because we are sitting with it, a little closer everyday, just like the Little Prince with his Fox. I believe it matters, and I want to give the internal belief an external appearance. Here's your stage little artist child of mine, do your thing. Who is taming who here? (And for the sake of my own ImagineNation, I should very much like to exchange my fox with a white rabbit.)
So I'm trying it out. Showing up here in a way that I haven't in a few years, or in a way I haven't ever before because blogs are different now and I too am different. Showing up simply because, for whatever reason, now feels like the time to do so again. I know at least three people who are feeling this same sort of energy and rebirth and that is enough to know I'm on the right track.
The thing about the White Rabbit is it moves fast. Not fast like I feel hurried, but fast like if I stop to overthink where it is taking me it or try to make it into something bigger or try to explain it or try to hoard the insight to use at a better time, it disappears. It's a steady clip, and I have convinced myself this makes it impossible to talk about or share in words, all the while my artist child is begging me to try and share this stuff. To make a little time to share and to share it as the rabbit gives it. To become white-rabbit-like myself.
Here is a list I've been wanting to make to help myself see what is going on just below the surface. I am aware it may not all make sense to you. But I hope it isn't complete gibberish and I hope you will feel the adventurous spirit in it and feel compelled by that to move in your own way, albeit a bit weird or untraditional. A lot of this insight is via themes that are emerging through my morning pages:
- I need to read Alice Through the Looking Glass and soon. I am on the other side of the mirror now and I need to collect secret messages that will help me in this new home of mine.
- I am practicing Leonard Cohen's song Broken Hallelujah on my guitar. The F chord is hard as is the switch between chords. My vocal chords are our of practice singing, and I have to coax myself to keep singing even if it doesn't sound polished. I used to love to sing, and often write on wish lists that I would like to join a local choir so I can sing harmony again. This strumming on my guitar is a step in the right direction and works for the limited amount of time I have to give to singing right now. Also, the lyrics to this song have layers of healing for me.
- I never dreamed that a year of self-reliance would pull me in such polar directions. I feel equally pulled towards and away from people in the healthiest ways possible. It reminds me of the year I picked the word vulnerable and then the year I picked the word detached...like they are co-mingling in this year. Actually, all of my words from past years seem to be revisiting me this year. I keep getting flashbacks of random memories from my past life with enlightened understanding of precisely why these things had to happen. It's very refreshing, and a thrill to have so much life and lessons behind me. I think this is what embodied wisdom must feel like.
- I've been reading The Fairy Tale Life of Hans Christian Andersen. It's been heart-wrenching. It was written for children. It was one of an armful of books I knew I had to have from the used bookstore. Used bookstores are some place I visit when I'm shifting. I wander and surprise myself with what is calling to me. It's difficult for me to let myself buy books because I don't like the clutter of owning a lot of books or feeling like I have no time to read what I've purchased, but again, the child inside of me is asking to follow the white rabbit, and so the books came home with me.
- The song Believer by Imagine Dragons is my favorite right now. I was driving in my car and when I heard these words, I was hooked:
This is when all the big changes come in my life - when I'm fed up and fired up and tired of the same ol', same ol'. It's when I finally have the energy to take action. And since the words feel like they want to pour out again on my blog, this was a secret message to let them come on out.
I also love that he is making a list in this song. First thing, second thing, third thing, last thing. I am a big list maker. Bullet points help me feel bullet proof and like I have my shit together. The bullets can be all over the place (like this post), but because they have bullets it's like nailing something down. It's like taking airy ideation and making it reality with a single dot of my pen. Keeps me sane, and helps me be sure I've said everything I intended to, so I can feel heard and be freed up to keep moving forward.
- I'm taking walks and doing Yoga With Adriene's 30 Day Revolution. This is a much slower take on exercise than the running or lifting weights I was used to, but I know this is right for me right now. Yesterday I walked a new direction (I am needing different and new in my life) and caught a gorgeous sunset. Walking makes me feel close to writers and artists, like Jack Kerouac and Mary Oliver. I think it's the slow stroll and the noticing. I like that things aren't blurry or speeding by me like they are when I run.
- I'm not cleaning up what isn't mine to clean up. I am noticing my spaces and my things in my home, and I'm doing what I can to care for those things and create sanctuary for me. My people are old enough now to be thought of as my roommates, and while there are certain well-communicated expectations, there is also an element of hounding that I've grown tired of, especially since I'm the only one that seems to care. (This makes me think of the Mama Bernenstain Bear). Repetitive asking, or getting bent out of shape when something doesn't happen in my timeline is a waste of energy and it exhausts me, so I'm taking care of what is mine and trying to leave it at that. It keeps me from getting overwhelmed.
- I've been falling in love with my husband in a new way.
- I got up at 3 in the morning last night to draw eyes.
- I keep finding coins.
- I am contemplating gathering data in support of abundance instead of lack.
- I am choosing silence as a viable response.
- I have set some artists free that used to be my heroes, and I've found some new ones.
- I am opening myself up to receiving and wishing and wondering.
- I am letting myself read again, even if I read quicker than I can do anything with the content. (i.e. when I read I want to incorporate it into The Magic School instantly in some way. When I can't I start to feel backlogged and so I stop reading. But the child in me light's up when she gets to read and find secret messages.)
- I am surrendering as a way of committing to who I actually am, not who I have wished I might be.
- I heard someone say our bodies have a natural weight that they always come back to, and I think I do and I think it would be really something to just let that be.
- I'm trying to finish one thing on my list before I start the next thing.
- The word PLAN is mesmerizing to me right now.
- I helped my boys rearrange their room today and we have new air filters in our home. This is meaningful. New juju.
That is all for now.
*Thank you for reading.