Beginning The Dream Again

The years of 2001-2005 were the greatest challenge of my life where I've faced the hardest situations and redefined myself from the inside out. It started with being unable to shake off the flu which turned out to be sepsis (blood poisoning) and required surgery, an extended hospital stay, and intensive antibiotics to restore my life. I was left with reduced mobility, causing me to move to a one-story home. I'm grateful to report that I've regained nearly 100% of my mobility at this time. I learned a great deal about myself during this well-being crisis, but in summary, it allowed me to rethink everything I had believed about being alive and pick out the old ideas that had stuck around but no longer fit me. Sort of like cleaning out the cobwebs.

A few months after I moved into my house in the spring of 2003, my father (who was almost never sick in his life) went in for bypass surgery and ended up having a stroke and other complications. For the next year and a half, I shuttled back and forth between Phoenix and Ohio to help my family deal with his situation, including his last six months spent at home bed-ridden with my 70-year-old mom as his primary care giver. Facing his death and my own, I came away from this with a greater sense of priorities in my life, and the awareness that I'm now leading my life from my heart more than ever before.

The grief I felt at that time was immense, and I found myself in the role of being a caretaker for my mom and my other family members in varying degrees. I lived with mom for the first 6 months of her new life, helping her to sort out the house and begin to see the possibilities of what she could create with her life. It built a new bridge of understanding between us, it gave us a new common ground for understanding each other. But there was no time for me to deal with the inner costs of this caretaking or my new family role.

I hadn't really had time to grieve the issues around my illness, compounded with the issues around my father's death and my family's strained relationships, and the challenges of rebuilding my business after walking away from my clients for nearly two years. I had a heavy heart. I'm not one to give into self-pity, and did my best to remind myself of how good my life has been, and to remind myself that I know next to nothing about the kinds of suffering that appear around me in the world.

Even so, I would wake up in the middle of the night and sob uncontrollably until I was too tired to cry and my eyes were swollen shut. There was no spark in my eyes and no lightness in my heart in spite of my best efforts to be cheerful. It was like standing at the edge of a clearing, the place where the woods and the meadow meet, and being unable to step away from the shadows into the full light.

Late in the spring of 2005, I took a contract assignment to work in an office an hour drive away form my home out of necessity. I filled my drive time listening to books on CD, which was one of the greatest surprises and delights during that time. But there were a few afternoons where I was either out of books or just wanted a change of pace. On one those afternoons, I popped in C'mon C'mon by Sheryl Crow. When I got to the song Diamond Road, something amazing happened. I felt like I had fallen into a gulch or a ravine of sadness in my own heart, like the flesh had been torn and I was in the middle of the tear, deep inside it. The sadness was overwhelming, and I recognized that this place was the source of middle of the night sobbing.

Feeling underwater and at the same time intrigued by what I observed was happening to me, I replayed the song a couple of times and found that I was unable to utter more than a few words of singing between sobs. I must have been a sight, driving down Shea Boulevard in Scottsdale, Arizona in the afternoon drive time, radio blaring, singing and sobbing at the top of my lungs. But something amazing was happening. I felt like I was really feeling the core of my grief in a way that I had not done before. After a few times through the song, I was exhausted and put on something else to distract me.

During the next weeks, I found that I was still waking up sobbing, and some afternoons, I would experiment to see if I could get through Diamond Road without crying. I could not. Every time I played it, I sobbed, if not at the start, definitely by the time I reached the second verse. I would feel my eyes burn hot and huge tears flow out of them until my clothes were damp. I would do my best to sing, and would play the song a few times until I felt I was done for now.

For the next couple of months, I would test the healing of my heart with this song. Sometimes, I would sob from the beginning to the end. A few times, I found that I only cracked a couple of times, eyes hot and heart torn open, but no real tears or sobs. There was no pattern to this, my reactions seemed almost random. But there was no doubt that my reaction to this song was strong.

And then one day, a miracle happened. I sang the song all of the way though without crying. I was actually able to sing this song to my own soul as a song of my truth instead of a song of my sadness. When I reached the end, I actually let out a wooooo-hoooooo!! while I restarted the song. I must have sang it that day for most of an hour, celebrating the healing of my own heart.

I have always felt that my voice has a strong power in my own life. I learned many years ago to be careful about what I said out loud about myself (and of course what I said silently, too). I am a person who loves chanting, to be around chanting, and to do chanting. I learned a sacred chant from an eastern religion that gives me peace each time I say it. I can feel the power of the sound of my voice after many repetitions in my meditations. I absolutely believe that music, like all spoken words, is powerful.

This song, this wonderful song, allowed me to speak tenderly to my broken heart, but the second verse is about the inner journey of healing for me. "Little bird" [that's my heart] "what's troubling you? You know what you have to do." [emphasis on know-my heart always knows what is best for me] "What is yours you'll never lose" [I'm spirit in a body, having a human experience, but nothing human can take away my core, who I really am] "and what's ahead may shine. Underneath the promise of blue skies, with broken wings I'll learn to fly" [brighter days are ahead, I will learn again what I need to know] "Pull yourself out of the tide" [keep raising your face to the sun and continue to do what you know to do] "and begin the dream again."

It's the last line that hit the deepest when I admitted to myself that I had stopped dreaming about my life. I was afraid to dream, I had started to believe that this sadness was always going to be with me. I had lost my vision for the future.

I still play this song in the truck, and I still sing it at the top of my lungs, but now as a personal anthem, the song of my heart. It did "take a little time" but I find that I've made "it to the other side" of my grief. I'm flying again, and best of all, I'm dreaming the dream of my life again.

If you don't know the song, here are all of the lyrics.

Great Wide Open

I am in type of creative space that I don't encounter very often. This time, instead of paper or other art media, the blank canvas is my life. My work life to be more specific.

The last time I felt like my working future was this wide open was back in college. After spending 2+ years studying computer engineering, I realized that I needed to change my major. I spent about 6 months still in college, still taking a full time load, but totally experimenting with different kinds of courses. There was such a freedom I felt from admitting to myself and the world that my major was truly "undecided" at that point. After a while, I did find a direction, and that direction lasted until just recently.

Now, with the shifting going on in my life, and the changes taking place in my main client's business, I realized I was in a unique place. I decided that instead of just going out to find new clients who need exactly the same kind of work done, I would take some time to explore my options. What kind of work do I want to specialize in next? It turned out to be a huge question, one I'm still not able to answer.

I'm completely comfortable with saying that my immediate business direction and future is undecided right now. I've got enough money to support myself through this transition, and I'm really appreciating that I'm a saver right now! I'm considering some very diverse options, including:

• Going back to college to get a PhD
• Writing a book
• Staring a new type of consulting work using social media
• Writing another movie script
  

I'm going back through my work history, looking at everything that has been juicy in the past, and making a list of the things that totally engage me and inspire me today. It's been a lot of fun and quite interesting.

Ironically, during this time my studio has devolved into a clutter bin! My worktable is piled so high with supplies and other studio stuff. It's really too bad because I have a lot of Christmas presents that need my attention. I'm hoping to resolve the studio mess next week and start on the pressies.

Facing the Unknown

A recent theme in my life is about facing the unknown. It's everywhere in my life right now, shaking me out of the road hypnosis of purring along smoothly and driving in my comfort zone. It's the new media at work in the studio. It's the client situation for my day job. It's embracing social media (Twitter, etc.) in my work life.

For the most part, I am really embracing this change and very happy to see it. I would be less than honest if I didn't say that from time to time, I get a bit scared about all of the changes. After those moments pass, I realize that feeling comes from the places where I've built my sense of security on something outside of myself. If my security is from having money in the bank, and my bank balance starts to drop, my security is shaken. If my security comes from having client work contracted out a few years in advance, and those dates come and go, my security is shaken. If my security comes from doing things the way I already know how to do them, and I have to switch to new tools and new strategies, my security is shaken.

For the most part, I feel I've done a great job in the last decade to really place my security where it belongs and not in these external things. I've been living a really peaceful and serene life, in spite of the normal rough times we all encounter in life. I've been through a serious illness, the extended illness of a family member, the deaths of several family members and close friends, the end of a relationship, and the purchase of my first home. With each of these, I went through a natural grieving process, letting go of the old, embracing the unknown of the future, and then finding my way into the new world. I've also discovered that it is easy to settle back into a comfortable routine after some major shakeups, too. But I'm really pleased at how well I've done in all aspects of managing my own security.

I'm at an interesting crossroad. I am in the processing of deciding what I want to be next (not what I want to be when I grow up... that will never happen!). I'm making choices now that will determine who I become next. That includes what kind of work I will do next. The opportunity for me is this: to take what I've learned so far, to see what I might want to do next, and figure out a vision for how I can reuse my skills to make that vision my new reality. It's a fun time, with a few scary moments. But it's a fun time.

Reflections on Joy

I'm in such a great space in my life these days, and it feels like a happy accident that I'm here and I'm so happy. And yet, when I really think about what has been happening, I can see that my own work and intentions have brought me to this happy place.

I found myself with a project delay that meant I had a couple of unexpected weeks off in October 2006. Facing a blank schedule, I made a decision to spend the time investing in something purely for myself. Ever since I moved into this house, I have had a few boxes marked "important papers" that I hadn't touched that had become a cloud following me, nagging me, reminding me of things undone. It was quite a chore to sort, file and shred these papers, but I didn't stop until I was done. I developed a new paperwork system for my personal finances, product manuals, warranties, and personal documents. A system that really works! I knew the undone work was weighing on me, but I didn't realize how much until it was gone. I felt like I was walking on air for some time.

That got me rolling. That winter, I made a decision to focus every night before I went to bed on the things I want in my life. The list ranged from objects (like a new truck) to experiences (like doing more art) to character qualities. The results were extraordinary. Things that I didn't even have on my list showed up in my house, people invited me to come along to do some really fun things, and I took many steps towards acting and thinking like the person I really want to be.

In January, my client shifted my project schedule and I again had time on my hands. This time, I took apart my junk room and created my studio. I pulled every tub and box of art supplies into the garage and sorted them. I bought a bookcase to house them, rebuilt the closet, and painted the room. I gave myself a space where I can express myself easily. No more taking over the kitchen table and island to do projects and then struggling to make meals and living with the art mess all of the time. I had a huge garage sale, and gave away the remaining stuff. Again, I felt I was walking on air.

These things have stripped away the crusty layer of living and have set me free to live more of the life I have imagined. I can't wait to see what happens next.

A New View

Thursday night, I had an amazing dream. I interpret my dreams based on the work of Carl Jung because I have found his approach to really help me understand my dreams in terms of personal growth. My dream was about a shift in my work life and my perspective on my work life. How appropriate for someone who is working to make art part of her working life (instead of remaining an escape from work)!

I attended a class on Friday taught by Carol Wingert at Scrapbooks, Etc. It was fabulous. We made an easel project that included three different metal techniques using copper. The largest copper piece we dipped in liver of sulfur, stamped with black ink, and then embossed the design. The next piece we also dipped in liver of sulfur after we stamped it (so the image was the only part that wasn't patined by the liver of sulfur. The third piece was copper mesh which we used heat to patina and then stamped. When I get my piece finished, I'll include pictures of it here. The class was so much fun, and Carol is great. She is teaching a series of classes now at Scrapbooks, Etc. for those of you in the Phoenix metro area.

I'm working again through the weekend on my other occupation (I'm a technical writer), working to meet a huge deadline in early June. As I ponder the life/work changes I'm making on the back burner, I'm excited and happy about the changes. And at the same time, there are other feelings and other thoughts that surface and sometimes surprise me. I understand that change is the blood of life, and I'm entering into this change willingly, but I know that every time we gain something, we let something go. I'm willing to embrace the change, accept the new, and release the old.

Here's to happy art for everyone!

Better Living Through Art

I have a theory that our environment pulls out of us the things we have within us that match the requirements or conditions of the environment. For example, I make my living manipulating information, mostly words, to help people integrate software into the workplace. My inate skills allow me to do that well. I excel at this work. But if I had been born 50 years earlier, or 100 years earlier (or even 10!), I wonder what skills would have arisen from within me, and how these information skills would have manifested in that work.

Over the last few weeks, I've discovered some changes in my interests and a change in the activities that seem juicy to me. Activities that used to totally engage me, activities I've participated in for decades, suddenly seem dry and uninteresting. It's more than a passing phase. I realized yesterday that those activites fed my art while it was underground in my life. It was the place where I could study designs, break apart inspiring examples, and think about how to apply and reinvent techniques for various effects. Of course that was my art at the time. And now that my art is more mainstream, I don't need that outlet.

I'm wondering what else is going to change in my life now.

I am pretty burnt out from working too many hours last month, with no end in sight. I had a hard time focusing on work today, so I played hookey. Normally, a day of hookey means escaping from the house, shopping, exploring, and looking to the horizon. All fun things. But today, I stayed at the computer. I did some online shopping (for art supplies, of course). I reviewed some of the inspiring websites I've collected in del.icio.us. And I made the banner graphic for the site. It's not exactly what I had in mind when I started, but like any collage, I started by finding images that capture the meaning of what I want to say, and then I experiment with ways to put them together to tell my story. Today's story, the blog banner's story, is about the messy energy and vibrant colors of art, mixed with the joy of laughter and the freedom of flight. I had a blast looking for the images that captured the essence of these things. Of course there would be a crow, but what crow? And the watercolors seemed perfect as soon as I spotted them.

Perhaps I will soon be scanning a custom collage for the blog banner. But in the meantime, this one says that I want to say: I'm living my best life today by embracing my art.

Welcome to my Studio

I'm a long time blogger, but this entry is a big deal for me. This is the first entry in my art blog. I realized last night that the renewed focus on my art in my life is taking me places I didn't expect. One of those places is here. I realized that I need an art journal, a place where I can write about my art, keep notes about what I'm learning, and review my progress. I love the idea of a handwritten journal, but I'm a realist. If I can type, I can get more said quickly, and the easier it is to write, the more successful my journal will be. So here I sit at Blogger, home to my 6 other blogs, starting a new one.

I don't know if anyone will find this blog. I don't even know if I want anyone to find this blog. I'm really writing this just for myself.

Since January, I've coverted my junk room into a studio. Inspired by photos of someone else's studio last November, I created a wonderful workspace for myself. Just clearing out the junk (which resulted in a garage sale in April) gave me such a lift that I felt inspired to begin work. I've done a rough sort of my supplies, with most of them in cubbies in the room, and some of the larger supplies in the newly painted and organized closet. I still want to build in shelves to give me more closet organization. I removed the closet sliding doors and replaced them with curtains to match the window curtains with grommet tops so they slide open so easily. I love sitting in there working.

Since January, I've taken several art classes, and I'm currently scheduled for two more in May. I don't find classes on interesting techniques or projects very often, but when I find a teacher who has something for me, I don't hesitate to sign up.

I've got a whole slew of potential projects that I'm itching to get started. Just last night, I sent a round of pictures to Walgreens that will make up a project. I've got photos already printed for at least two more. I'm so excited. I need this journal to give myself a place to keep track of my projects, review my results, and critique my efforts.

In future posts, I want to cover the following: each art class I've taken, my project list, my finished projects, progress in creating a working studio, how my life is changing from exploring art again, and my efforts to begin supporting myself through my art.

If you are reading this, I promise that you will find my honest opinions here, not something I'm saying because I think I have an audience. I'll let you see what is going on inside my heart and head as I begin this new phase of my art journey. It might be raw and rough, but it will always be real.

In the few minutes I have been typing this, I have again that sense of profound awareness that I had last night when I realized I must start a blog. The reality of my journey is so solid and so real since I've started writing. I am a person who responds to journaling. I'm having a journaling response now. By starting this blog, I've changed the course of my journey, I can feel that. Just like I changed my life when I cleared out the junk room, when I created the studio, and when I started signing up for classes.

Art is back, baby. Big time.