Just Show Up

That's all I have to do. Why it is so difficult? Why am I so resistant?

Steven Pressfield said it well in his book The War of Art: "Resistance". That's it? Plain, old resistance? Well I've come to know it's not plain. And it never grows old. But it grows deeper as one gets older. This has happened to me. I have no excuses. I admit I'm stuck and have been for many years. I keep going in a circle: Desire to create, start out creating, write a blog post about where I've been and try to explain this to myself and anyone who may be listening, buy a new journal, get bogged down by life or whatever, lay things aside while I tend to everything else, dust accumulates, lose interest or don't like what I wrote or drew, wonder if others will feel that way too, think about this everyday while I do the dishes, go to the art store and buy a new pen and more paper, store them in a drawer, desire arises again to create....I need an accountability partner. My reasons for not having one are mostly tied to fear. What if I let them down? What if I don't feel like doing the thing I committed to? What if I'm really not a writer or an artist? What if I embarrass myself?

 RESISTANCE ONLY OPPOSES IN ONE DIRECTION

Resistance obstructs movement only from a lower sphere to a higher.

It kicks in when we seek to pursue a calling in the arts, launch an innovative

enterprise, or evolve to a higher station morally, ethically, or spiritually.

So if you're in Calcutta working with the Mother Theresa Foundation and you're

thinking of bolting to launch a career in telemarketing...relax. Resistance will

give you a free pass. (The War of Art, page 17)

A friend and I recently traveled to an art workshop. I told her about a quote I heard by John F. Kennedy. He said, "We're not doing this because it's easy. We're doing this because it's hard." My friend said, "Ok, we're doing the hard stuff now." And we repeat this to each other every time we talk. The hard stuff for me right now is to write this blog post and press publish. It's reaching out to people to find the right combination of encouragement and instruction to keep headed toward my goal of writing an essay to send out somewhere. It's drawing in my journal everyday, either to illustrate what I'm writing about or just to practice and hone my skills. Another quote from The War of Art:

RESISTANCE IS INFALLIBLE

Like a magnetized needle floating on a surface of oil, Resistance

will unfailingly point to true North-meaning that calling or action it most 

wants to stop us from doing.

We can use this. We can use it as a compass. We can navigate by Resistance,

letting it guide us to that calling or action that we must follow before all others.

Rule of thumb: The more important a call or action is to our soul's evolution,

the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it. (The War of Art, page 12)

I've known for a long time that my faith is related to creativity. Just as faith is not an easy stance to maintain in every day life so it is in the creative realm. I need to lean into this idea more. I believe in prayer for example because I've experienced results many times, yet how often I forget to pray, or just don't pray. Why? Because it's hard! First I have to go against myself and my own reasoning that always asks the question: What good will it do? Then I have to speak to my heart to wake up and get on board because without my heart it will be only words going out into the air instead of love going into the ears of God. I have to care. All this requires work, the work of believing that prayer will avail much. It seems very much the same to bring myself to writing or drawing. One more quote:

THE MAGIC OF MAKING A START

Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, 

the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment

one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur

to help one that would not otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from 

the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents

and meetings and material assistance which no man would have dreamed would

come his way. W.H.Murray (The War of Art, page 122)

"We're doing the hard stuff now."

Becoming An Explorer

 

Lost Creek Trail

I'm on a quest to overcome my fears related to creativity, namely Art and Writing. I'm looking for people who are struggling with their own fears, who will travel with me on this journey to conquer the giants and take back the land of confidence. I need fellow travelers who want to learn, grow and develop to become all they were created to be.

After 18 years of caregiving there has come a rest from crisis living and it's almost as though I don't know who I am or what I would like to do now. A question I keep asking myself is, "what is my purpose?" Being needed by other people has given me a sense of importance. It started out as a response to someone's need but quickly became an expected role in the family system. Now I try to shed that identity like a skin but it doesn't come off. I need help. And what new skin do I want to grow?  

I'm going to self school. This is like coming up to a wall I have to scale before I even begin to climb the mountain. As I think about how to move away from the roles I've allowed others to put me in, I feel guilty. The thought of becoming a writer or an artist raises anxiety in my chest, making my heart pound. This is unknown territory. In order to move on I first have to stay put and begin to identify where I am, what or who doesn't work and decide what to do about it. But I must move. 

Some things I've done so far are:

Hired a life coach
Signed up for online art classes
Talked to family members about their expectations
as well as identified myself to them as an artist/writer
Attended a writer's workshop
Gathered with other writer's at a Literary Salon
Returned to my blog which I started in 2008
Began to finish projects I have started but abandoned
Endeavored to keep a daily journal
Pray daily.                                                     

Recently I went camping at Lost Creek in Southern Oregon. I asked a Park Ranger how to get down to the lake. He pointed me in the direction of the trail and said,"there's more ups than downs." As I made my way along the trail, alone, I began to realize how many risks I was taking. First of all, at the beginning of the trail was a tiny sign that declared this to be Cougar country. Gulp. Then another sign that listed all the things I should do to keep safe: 
Be sure you have a map. (I did not)
Plan ahead and be prepared. (I did not)
Travel on durable surfaces. (I did have tennis shoes on)
                                                                                    
The scenery was majestic, like a fairytale forest with a path that beckoned me to explore. I decided I would just see what was around the bend. Over roots bulged up out of the ground, under low hung, out stretched branches, across a fallen tree that created a bridge, I relished the warm air and breathed in the scent of pine. This was fun. Then, up ahead, I saw something large drop from a tree and scramble through the bushes. It wasn't large enough to be a Cougar but it wasn't a squirrel either.  I stopped. My mouth became dry, my heart beat up into my throat, I turned around and ran up the steep incline back to the sign where I began. I decided my adventure would be left for another day, and with a friend. 

This little journey reminded me of my attempts to become a writer/artist. Any day, inspiration may knock on the window. I feel a lift in my heart or a call from somewhere unknown to make a change, take a risk, explore, create. But after a little while, when things don't go as planned,  more time and discipline are required than I expected or I have to write and write and rewrite or start over on a painting I've worked hours on, I retreat. I turn away in fear that I don't have what it takes. I listen to the rustle in the bushes. And as years go by, I repeat the same scenario. Is it possible to take myself seriously? To make a decision about what I want and stick to it regardless of how difficult it may be? To stop doubting myself? Only I can answer these questions. 

I began this post saying I'm looking for fellow travelers and this is still true. Two (many) are better than one. And I recognize the need for encouragement and help from other artists who know the path. But ultimately it is a solo undertaking and I'm the only one who can take responsibility for myself to create or not. To be continued....

Continued from May 6, 2012

Hi Gentle Readers,

I finally found my way back to my blog. The habits I spoke of two years ago haven't changed but what has changed is my belief in myself. I may not be the best writer, or artist or whatever but I'm the best and in fact only one who can see from my perspective. I don't have to know if this will add value to the world or not. My job is to create what is in my heart to create. I don't know how I may touch someone, help someone, hopefully not hurt someone. "We all have a unique way of seeing." Danny Gregory.

A Snap Pea in my garden as seen
from my unique perspective.

See Danny Gregory's post on "I'm the Best". 

http://dannygregorysblog.com

The Year of the Spark

Happy New Year! 

I haven't blogged in more than a year! But I'm here now and will try to keep going. I'm starting another class with Carla Sonheim called The Year of the Spark! This blog will be a good place to document what I'm learning and reflect on the process.


Here is a link for anyone interested in investigating the class:http://www.carlasonheim.com/yearofthespark/

Hi!

I'm starting a new class. Here's the link.



http://www.carlasonheim.com/2014-year-of-the-fairy-tale-online-class/

KICKING IN the WALL

Today I attended a writing workshop with Barbara Abercrombie. She, with generosity, humor and years of writing and teaching experience, shared everything one needs to know to get started writing and to keep writing. I've taken many classes with Barbara and I always come away feeling encouraged and buoyed up. Barbara is every writer's cheerleader. She does not deny it is hard work and a writer has to have a stubbornness about them that refuses to give up. It takes daily practice and perseverance. The book gives a practical way to adhere to that discipline with 5 minute exercises. It's brilliant!

 

 

Reading About Writing

  Courage and Craft by Barbara Abercrombie is full of wisdom and insight. I'm rereading it again for the fourth time. For example, "You can sit around for the rest of your life dreaming about writing your stories, longing to bear witness on the page to every amazing thing you've seen or lived through, and wishing for a message from above, that bolt of lightening, some signal that will let you know now is the time to start being creative. Or you can just buy a notebook or turn on your computer and begin writing. It's that simple and that complicated."

I still wonder around my life daily looking for my passion. I don't know if it's writing or some other creative endeavor but I do know something alludes me. I've come to only two conclusions these last few days I've been thinking about this: I would like someone to just tell me what to do (which never works in reality) and I want to be in love. (Not that I don't love God, my husband and family). One of the reasons I like taking classes is because it's a lot like starting a new relationship. I feel inspired. Getting to know new people and subjects is exciting. I can't wait to buy art supplies or books, notebooks and pens. Also a class provides a contained space where you follow the prescribed curriculum, you succeed and then feel good about yourself. Why is it so difficult to give this to myself? It's a problem of having to be validated from someone outside me in order to feel accepted, thus approved of.

So now I've uncovered a root and a habit. The root is believing I'm unworthy, by whose standard I don't know. The habit is continually living in this false belief. To be continued......

Thoughts

I tried to listen 
To my heart,
But I couldn't                      
Hear her thoughts.
Her words unpenned
From the line
And scattered.

I wasn't able
To help her
Gather them,
 Strewn about
 In disarray.
 So we wait
 In silence.

What do dogs have to teach us?

On Saturday we got another dog. I fought with myself over this decision for well over a year. Why would I want yet another body to take care of? I'm a care taker by nature, by role, by circumstance, by chance. It's what I do. And do well, I might add. But do I need another responsibility? One more to feed? One more to take potty? One more to keep safe? Against my better judgement I have to answer yes to all of these. It goes against logic but not against the joy that a happy carefree being brings into my life. Was this one sent by life and chosen by me to help me understand something about attitude and perspective? I worry a lot. But Sallini Bellalini has no worries. She trusts. I think about all the things that could go wrong. She wags her tail at the tiniest pleasure. She doesn't miss a moment of the day focusing on yesterday or tomorrow. She is where she is right now....happily. What do dogs teach you?

What is your vision?

Your vision will only become clear when you look into your heart. Who looks outside....dreams. Who looks inside....awakens. Carl Jung

Quaere Faerie

Do you have a lot of questions? I know I do. I think Quaere Faerie has been around with her magic dot, stirring up curiousities and wonderments. Here's a place to post a question or a comment to a question. But don't be surprised if questions lead to more questions.


To Blog or not to Blog, that is the question. I want to write, at least I think about writing all the time. The blog is one of those spaces that allows me to be published without really being published. It allows me to be known without really being known. Is this what I like about it or what I don't like about it? I start to blog, then I stop blogging. I design my blog, then I redesign my blog. I go back and look at my blog, then I don't look at it for months. Why would someone torment themselves over blogging? 

About Us

About Us

This blog is devoted to my family and friends, to the journey of life, to writing to and for each other. It is a place of encouragement and fun, celebrating all the good things that surround us. Thankful to God for all of His gifts I want to share thoughts, ideas, my heart and maybe even recipes. So, stop by, say hello, leave a comment. Life is a gift. Open it!

I've been married for 37 years to a wonderful man. I have two sons and three daughters two son-in-laws and three grand-daughters. And a grandson on the way. We are retired from 25 years in restaurant business. I believe the best is yet to come.

Please Read

Jenny Rough has a great post today. Stop by. www.jennyrough.com click on roughlyspeaking.

Begin Today! No matter how feeble the light. Let it shine as best it may.The world may need just the quality of light you have.~Shaker Saying

Art by James C. Christensen

The Writing Journey Continues

On Sunday I attended the Writer's Faire through UCLA Extension. It was so inspiring. Just being with other writer's, hearing their stories, buying a really cool t-shirt, was exhilarating. That very afternoon, when I got home, things began to fall apart. Stuff inside of me started coming to the surface. Self-doubt like a huge rock breaking off from the side of a mountain, toppled down onto my soul. It has taken me all week to regain my balance, but I think I'm finally able to get up, bruised and bleeding, but standing. The companion of self-doubt, I realized, is comparison. While the rocks of self-doubt immobilized me, comparison was the hard ground I fell on. So many suave, funny, intelligent writer's on panels with microphones, published. I, a writer undercover, posing as an audience, one of many hearts filled with hopes and dreams, looking from the outside to a place I want to be, wanting to articulate well what my heart has to say.

On any journey there needs to be preparation and planning. On the writing journey this equates to going to Writer's Faires, taking classes and sitting down to write everyday, believing in the destination I need to travel to however unknown or perilous. There is a way to get there.

One thing is needed: Courage. Writing is a battle. I will choose my companions carefully.

I Like this Idea

Here's a chance to win Mary E. DeMuth's book "Authentic Parenting in Postmodern Culture". Just leave a post on my blog and you will be entered into the drawing. For more info go to http://tekemestudios.blogspot.com. Good luck and have fun!

Win a copy of Mary E. DeMuth's "Authentic Parenting in a Postmodern Culture: Practical Help for Shaping Your Children's Hearts, Minds, and Souls" from Tekeme Studios by leaving a comment on this post! Contest ends August 29, 2008.

Perhaps This Is What Heaven Is Like

Be Inspired...

A son asked his father, 'Dad, will you take part in a marathon with me?' The father who, despite having a heart condition, says 'Yes'. They went on to complete the marathon together. Father and son went on to join other marathons, the father always saying 'Yes' to his son's request of going through the race together. One day, the son asked his father, 'Dad, let's join the Iron man together.'To which, his father said 'Yes.' For those who didn't know, Iron man is the toughest triathlon ever. The race encompasses three endurance events of a 2.4 mile (3.86 kilometer) ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile (180.2 kilometer) bike ride, and ending with a 26.2 mile (42.195 kilometer) marathon along the coast of the Big Island . Father and son went on to complete the race together. View the video by visiting the link below...



http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=8cf08faca5dd9ea45513

This Room I'm In

The fragrance of line-dried linens gathers in the room and swirls around with the steam of my hazelnut coffee up into the heavenly, high ceiling, white. And down again along the edge of my mind pulling me along the tail end of a dream lost many years ago. The curtains float on drifts of air breathing in and out. Deep purple shadows cast on a periwinkle blue wall have come to delight me, to call me on to an unknown destination of....artist?....writer? I don't know. But here I sit and wait and write and wait, pen poised, waiting for the hovering words and pictures to circulate.

A Cabin in the Woods

Solitude. Recently I've met someone who has a cabin in the woods and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. The thought of getting away into the quiet where I can be alone sounds refreshing and relieving. Since I can't go to a cabin in the woods right now I try to practice solitude here at home. I sit down with my paper and pen, out in the warm air of the garden, hoping to empty my mind of it's busyness. I try to get to a place of tranquility and calm. I want to leave the static in me behind. I want to create open space where I can get some perspective. Where can I find restoration and rejuvenation? I listen. The curtain draws a breath in and then out. I do the same. Breathing in,"I forgot to."..............Breathing out,"I have to"..............the curtain knows something I don't. Being.

I realized today that even if I go to a cabin in the woods I won't find peace because I'll still be with my anxious self. There's no where to run. This week I will spend time catching my thoughts, the ones that rob me of hope and faith and love and peace. I will say to myself, "breathe." I will ask myself, "What is it that rejuvenates you?"

And now I ask you, dear reader, what is it that rejuvenates you? Where do you find solitude? What restores your soul?

Leo

Yesterday my friend found a little dog. She called me to tell me that he looked exactly like my dog, Henri. Henri is a Bichon-poodle. She said that he was under a car and she couldn't get him out.

I had just spent the morning lamenting over the fact that I need to have a schedule. But even when I have a schedule, I thought, there are so many distractions that make it difficult to keep on track. I had just sent my husband off to the store with his mother, who is visiting, in hopes of writing a schedule while they were gone.

"Oh", I said. "Poor little guy". I remembered when Henri climbed a brick wall when he was a puppy, ran off into a busy intersection and was rescued by a lady who called me because he had his tags. "Does he have a tag?"

"I don't think so", she said. "He growls at me when I put my hand toward him. I'm afraid he'll bite me if I try to get him out".

"Try giving him some meat or cookies", I said.

A few minutes later she called me back to say that he wasn't interested in food. He just stayed in one place looking at her.

"Do you want me to come over and help you?" You don't have time to do this, I thought. But neither did I have any clear idea of what actually needed to be done because I hadn't written my schedule yet. It wouldn't take that long. I would come right back. The dog's little face was now in my heart. I saw him shaking underneath the car, white fluffy hair leaning hard against a hot rubber tire. I had to go.

My friend was waiting on her front porch, her chin resting on her hand. We were so happy to see each other and gave a long hug. She only lives two miles away. I have known her for 32 years and was her maid of honor. We are so comfortable with each other and enjoy each other's company. When we haven't seen each other for a long time we just pick up where we left off. But our busyness, our schedules, my preconceived idea that I must have a schedule and stick to it, can keep us from life's valuable interruptions, like friends dropping by. Now there was a need.

I got down on my hands and knees, talking gently, trying to coax the dog out. I brought some lamb meat with me, but he just stared at me. He was trembling and looked so sad. He barely fit under the car, so oily dirt turned his fur black on top of his head. My friend decided to get a broom and push him toward me. He got really mad and bit at the straw, made himself heavy in the grass but she just kept pushing. As soon as his head was out I began petting him. He just laid there on his side. I pulled him out a little further, kept talking softly and could tell by the way he was laying that he had a sweet disposition, much like Henri.

. I picked him up and held him close, he put his head under my chin and stayed perfectly still. We brought him into the house to calm him down and earn his trust. Soon my friend's husband had him checking out his new environment, maybe his new home. My friend had always said that only if she could have a dog like Henri would she have a dog. I thought maybe he was a gift to her. My friends wanted to take his picture and put it around the neighborhood. They looked in the Lost and Found for possible adds. They also considered what his name should be.

My friend's husband had just opened the screen door when we heard children yelling from a car window. At that moment the dog's ears perked up and he ran out the door. My friend's husband tried to stop the car but it went by too fast. So he jumped in his car and went after them. The dog stood in the middle of the street, ears hopeful. He didn't run from me when I went to pick him up. "He's so happy now", my friend said.

A mom and two kids pulled up. "Leo!", they said. I handed the dog to the little girl. The mom thanked us so much. They were neighbors who had not met before. And this was the path they took to walk the dog, so Leo was probably just taking himself for a walk.

Old friends got together, a little dog was rescued, a family was spared a loss and new friends were made all because I left my time to make my much needed schedule. I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.