Advice

I accidentally found this poem and it addressed the feelings I so often have of needing to have everything in my life in order before I can allow myself the gift of creating anything. . .

Advice to Myself

by Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.
Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.
Don’t even sew on a button.

Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.

Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.

Pursue the authentic-decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.

Your heart, that place
you don’t even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.

Don’t sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we’re all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don’t answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in though the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.

Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

1.30.12

{project from the guerilla art kit by keri smith • i created the postcard to be mailed anonymously and recreated again and again!}

1.29.12

{communion table}

1.28.12

{the birthday boy • at WinterJam in Columbus}

1.27.12

{lost}

1.26.12

{messy ~ not the good kind}

{a little better}

1.25.12

{and this is how you find that your mother had surgery. . .with complications}

I Found A Lie

I found a lie inside my heart.
It said that the body of Christ didn't matter.

It said that only the blood -
Only that elusive spirit of Jesus
would be enough
for the absolution for my soul.

And I could do that much on my own.

So I chased that mist
which was breathed and blown
by the movement of the wind.

I chased the dance
of his creative soul.

alone

Then I realized
that grace is never about giving
me what I want. . .

That's a silent hallelujah.

So all I want to say is this -

Don’t give up
on this thing called church.
This body of Christ -
It's as simple as a gathering of hearts across the distance.

It is more than sitting and standing and unanimous voices of song.
And it is more than fancy words.

Life will continue in its
strenuous
aching
briefness.

But there is glory. There is love,

and this,
this body of Christ,

it is a Good God’s dream.

{written after a long struggle to find my place in a faith community - and to celebrate becoming a covenant member of Journey at Christ Church}

1.24.12

{messy}

1.23.12

{lunch fortune}

1.22.12

{nap time}

1.21.12

{photography installation}

1.20.12

{a secret message}

1.19.12

{it's $3.69 one day and $3.29 the next. i only had $10 on me today.

guess i picked the right day to spend it.}

1.18.12

{heather defaced my renoir}

1.17.12

{preparing for my first, and likely only, photography showing! i'm putting together some matted prints to be shown for awhile at Journey}

1.16.12

{homemade cinnamon rolls}

1.15.12

{the altar table at Journey at Christ Church}

1.14.12

{for $5.95 each my karma is intact with a live trap. let's just pray mice like peanut butter}

Winter Morning

the dog and I step into the silence
of before light

he takes a deep breath -
the scent of winter visible
in his joy

the moon is a fingernail of light

the bony fingers
of the walnut tree seem
stitched into the prospect of the sky

our little corner of earth's
bounty
is
fallow. dormant. resting. bare.

there is a holiness
found in resting.

and a promise of being
restored.

written and submitted at Abbey of the Arts

1.13.12

{"abandon hope, {of good hair anyway} all ye who enter here. . ." it was -2 with winds over 25 mph here today!}

1.12.12

{while wiping muddy paws this morning i heard samson's hip pop. he's been limping a little every since. i feel terrible but hope some rimadyl will do the trick}

1.11.12

{my friend Frank, who inspires me to keep trying this Project 365 thing; who had a big part in helping me the job that just might have saved my life}

1.10.12

{buddha light}

1.9.12

{broken phone, six days from being eligible for an upgrade. . .}

1.8.12

{mya, the black lab puppy next door • they got her at halloween after losing their 11 year old black lab chloe}

Word

Being up at 4 a.m. every day has it's upside. I guess. Lots of time to stumble upon things on the internet that really make me think. And smile. And question. And occasionally laugh out loud.

I found Jim LePage this morning. And he made me do all these things. In a nutshell, he's a graphic designer who's project Word took each book of the Bible and summarized it in one, bold graphic. I'm in love. . .

And in case you don't "get" this one from 1 Timothy 2:11 –

"A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. Do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet."

More of his work I love. . .

Go. Look. Buy. I am.

1.7.12

{winter angel • maple grove cemetery}

What Happens to the Questions

what happens to all

the questions that go

unanswered?

all the whys

the how comes

the what if i had onlys

what space do they

fill?

what mirror reveals

their reflection?

sometimes i think they

wait in my dreams

to smother me with

their weight and heft

while i

restlessly

ponder what doesn't matter

anymore

and maybe never did

perhaps the old unanswered questions

are the mists that settle like dust

on grandmothers furniture

are they waiting for me to write

my name in their legacy?

here is what i think

these questions that have

no answers –

with time

they disband, dissolve, disperse

and become the compost

that feeds the dreams of my soul

1.6.12

{it was 60 degrees on January 6! • sitting on the porch with no coat in ohio!}

A Joyful Mind

What might a joyful mind be?

When your mind does not need to be right.

When you no longer need to compare yourself with others.

When you no longer need to compete — not even in your own head.

When your mind can be creative, but without needing anyone to know.

When you can live in contentment with whatever the moment offers.

When you do not need to analyze or judge things in or out, positive or negative.

When your mind does not need to be in charge, but can serve the moment with gracious and affirming information.

When your mind follows the intelligent lead of your heart.

When your mind is curious and interested, not suspicious and interrogating.

When your mind does not 'brood over injuries.'

When you do not need to humiliate, critique, or defeat those who have hurt you — not even in your mind.

When your mind does not need to create self-justifying story lines.

When your mind does not need the future to be better than today.

When your mind can let go of obsessive or negative thoughts.

When your mind can think well of itself, but without needing to.

When your mind can accept yourself as you are, warts and all.

When your mind can surrender to what is.

When your mind does not divide and always condemn one side or group.

When your mind can find truth on both sides.

When your mind fills in the gaps with 'the benefit of the doubt' for both friend and enemy.

When your mind can critique and also detach from the critique.

When your mind can wait, listen, and learn.

When your mind can live satisfied without resolution or closure.

When your mind can forgive and actually 'forget.'

When your mind can admit it was wrong and change.

When your mind can stop judging and critiquing itself.

When you don't need to complain or worry to get motivated.

When you can observe your mind contracting into self-preservation or self-validation, and then laugh or weep over it.

When you can actually love with your mind.

When your mind can find God in all things.

An Excerpt from The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See by Richard Rohr

1.5.12

{there's a mouse moving in to the bathroom drawer}

Getting Real

Last night I was too tired to do anything productive so I was just bumping around on the internet when I found this site – What Real Women Look Like. I've known for a long time that I don't have an accurate inner picture of my body. {i won't say my self because i believe my self and my body are not interchangeable concepts} Walking down the street, or seeing someone in a store who I think is my size and shape, I will say to Ali, "Do I look like her?" Usually she will laugh and say no, but what I'm really trying to do is sort out my inner perception of my body.

I don't remember a time when my body wasn't big and shameful.

From fourth grade on I've always been the big girl. Taller than everyone else, I got boobs way before the rest of the crowd. I've always worn baggy clothes to hide them. I've never been terribly overweight but I've never been comfortable with myself. My whole life I've felt awkward and less than graceful.

So, I arrive at my 47th year weighing 170 pounds at 5'8" and I have no idea what I really look like.

This body image gallery asked women to take a real photo of themselves and submit it so that other women can begin to see what "real women look like." Not models selling clothes. Not actresses selling sex. Not fake women trying to sell us a diet version of bliss. Real women.

This is a real woman who is 5'8" and weighs 172.

I thought she was lying until I looked at the rest of the women who were the same height and weight. Then I started kind of frantically looking through the rest of the galleries looking for someone who matched the inner perception of myself.

Here is what I think I look like.

Don't misunderstand me. The part that's troubling me isn't whether I look like this woman. {who is courageous enough to tell the truth about her body} The problem is my inner perception. . . My inner picture tells me that I weigh 70 pounds more than I really do.

70 pounds??

And apparently I'm not alone. The purpose of this website, which is now getting attention from all over the world, is to give women a clearer picture of themselves. I have to admit that I'm shocked at my own inner distortion. When I woke up this morning it was the first thing to come to mind.

The next hurdle? Now that I have this information, what in the world do I do with it?

1.4.12

{part of the snowman display i created for the school office}

A Messy Book of Days

To begin this year of messy I'm loosely following this year-long, online art experiment called 2012 Book of Days. The woman who is doing this huge outpouring of creativity is Effy Wild and her website's tag line is "flinging glitter and taking names." Sound messy enough?! So far it has been much, much fun beginning the project with people from all over the world - and did I mention it was free??

I'm beginning to be able to put 2011 away. I realized while I was working on my Book of Days journal cover that getting the new job in August might have saved my life - at least my spiritual being. I'm feeling a little of the old creative joy returning.

Here is the cover of my new journal. {this whole are journaling thing is completely new to me, so be kind!} I took an old hymnal – how's that for symbolic – and am remaking it into something else, while still allowing the old notes to shine through.

The poem on the front is "Bluebird" by Charles Bukowski.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going

to let anybody see

you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that

he's

in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say,

stay down, do you want to mess

me up?

you want to screw up the

works?

you want to blow my book sales in

Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too clever, I only let him out

at night sometimes

when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,

so don't be

sad.

then I put him back,

but he's singing a little

in there, I haven't quite let him

die

and we sleep together like

that

with our

secret pact

and it's nice enough to

make a man

weep, but I don't

weep, do

you?

1.3.12

{izzy finishing up my lunch preparations}

my word

A single word can be a powerful thing. It can be the ripple in the pond that changes everything. It can be sharp and biting or rich and soft and slow. From my own experience, it can be a spark for enriching your life.

In 2009, I chose one word for myself - a word that I could focus, meditate and reflect on as I went about my daily life. That year I chose gentle. It was a great choice and influenced me in ways I still feel. In 2010 I chose vitality. Again, a very good selection. It was motivating and kept me feeling alive.

I didn't choose a word to guide my 2011. {perhaps that's one of the things that i did wrong last year?}

These little words have been, simultaneously, what I needed and what I didn't know I needed. They've helped me to breathe deeper, to see clearer, and to grow.

I did not choose this year's word. It chose me. It's a word that makes me feel all clinchy and uncomfortable. It's a word that strips me of control. It's a word that conjures freedom, creativity and chaos. It's a word I desperately need, but don't really approve of. My word for 2012 is messy.

messy |ˈmesē|

adjective

sullied, spotted, stained, smeared, smudged;

disheveled, scruffy, unkempt, rumpled, matted, tousled;

bedraggled, tangled, disorderly;

in a muddle, chaotic, confused, disorganized, in disarray;

untidy, cluttered, in a jumble;

complex, intricate, tangled, confused, convoluted

confused and difficult to deal with

Lord help me. . .no doubt it's exactly what I need. . .

1.2.12

{delilah's eyes • shot with Hipstamatic on my iPad}

i did

I'm not sorry to see 2011 go. I'm sure I'm not alone in that sentiment but, as a person who tries to be a "glass half full" kind of girl, it's tough for me to admit that 2011 was mostly a "glass half empty" kind of year.

Rather than dwell on all the things that 2011 wasn't, I'd like to release it with some kind of dignity and move on. I feel no need to critique, scold or berate myself any longer. {i'm quite sure I will have plenty of opportunity to do that later. . .}

Every brand new year offers this rush of optimization, tweaking, improvements and overhauls. It's all too much, too quick. So here I sit, wanting to honor 2011 while dipping my toes carefully into 2012 and not getting overwhelmed. My solution is to make a 2011 "i did" list. {and there won't be a single "i didn't" to be found!}

here's what i did in 2011 {in no particular order. . .}

1. i told the truth. not always easy but quite spiritually freeing.

2. i struggled with depression but i'm pretty sure it didn't win.

3. i accepted the challenge from my pastor {his facebook words might not have been directed at me, but i felt the sting of conviction in them, so they might as well have been} and i stepped up when he said, "those who are content will never effect change. those who are discontent and walk away from the problem won't either. be part of the solution."

4. i studied my mistakes. i pray that i learned life lessons from them.

5. i laughed. often at myself.

6. i wrote.

7. i won a blue ribbon for photography.

8. i read a lot of books.

9. i almost became a mama.

10. i "kept calm and carried on."

11. i mostly quit watching television.

12. i got a new job that just might have been my salvation.

13. i made new friends.

14. i kept my old friends, at least all the ones i started 2011 with.

15. i survived.

See ya later, 2011. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. . .

1.1.12

{2012 n. main st., findlay • Happy 2012!}