Possibility...

Did you hear it?
Yesterday, there was huge noise.
It sounded like a loud BAM....
At least it seemed that way to me.

It was me -
slamming the door closed on the last chapter of the previous life.

Let me explain...

Yesterday, I went to the title company and signed off on the sale of my house.
Notice, I said house - and not home.

When it became evident that my marriage was over,
one of the first things I had to do as a "grown-up" was put my home up for sale.
It was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
And it was filled with a lot of conflict -
I had wanted to move for quite a while.
I didn't like our neighborhood at all - it had changed so much since we had moved in there -
and not for the better.
But it was still our home.
I had lived there longer than any other single residence other than the house I grew up in.
I grew up in a family that "stayed put".
Having a place to call home was so important to me as a child - I wanted that for my kids.
I wanted that spot that they could come back to again and again and again and feel the comfort of home.
And if I was to move from that home,
it needed to be on my own terms.
It needed to be a well-thought out decision.

But in July, I found myself talking with a realtor to sell my home -
and it was because my world had been ripped apart.
All of a sudden I was getting ready to sell my home and it was not by my choice.
I was paying the consequence for someone else's choices.
And it made me sad.
And then it made me angry.
I moved in December,
but the house had not sold yet.
I continued to be responsible for it - at least financially.
I wasn't living in it -
but it was still there.
And I had to return to it several times over the last few months.
Which was surreal.

But enough of the past -
yesterday, the house officially because someone elses.
On Monday, I returned to it for a few miscellaneous things that still needed to be collected.
I walked through the empty rooms.
The heat has been off for a while so it was cold - really cold.
The halls echoed with the emptiness.
It was a house.
No longer a home.
And I felt a heaviness.
I drove home and cried on and off all evening.
But I awoke cleansed and ready to move on.
I signed yesterday.
I officially "closed" out the account on all of the utilities.
And then - feeling strong and empowered and somewhat lighter,
I went a step further...
I went to the DMV and changed my address and . . .
wait for it . . .
my name!

Yes! I have officially taken back my maiden name.
I am no longer Laurie Miller -

I am Laurie Linn.
FYI...The business name will be following shortly -
but here is the point...

As Laurie Miller,
I felt trapped on many occasions - hopeless.
I didn't allow myself to think about new adventures, vacations, or anything big -
I didn't even allow myself to think about things closer to home -
like trying new restaurants or going to hear live music in a local venue.
I had accepted that those things were not going to happen so I quit hoping.
Now don't get me wrong -
I was in a "good" marriage.
I wasn't abused or dispected.
But my former spouse didn't like to try new things.
Or to plan -
and definitely not to dream like I did.
And after asking and suggesting with no positive feedback, over the course of time - I stopped.

But Laurie Linn...
Well - that's a different story.

She is believing in POSSIBILITY!

 

 



UPcycled Table

I met Mary Jane over 2 years ago.

She came to one of my shows and picked up a few items.

She then called to have me help her with a project -

To redo an old chair that had been her mother's.

The idea was to cover the chair with images that reminded her of her mom as a tribute to her.

 

Several months ago,

she called again.

This time to do another chair - but for her sister.

The chair was just like the first one - it had come from the same set that had been their mothers.

We covered it with images that reminded her sister of her children.

 

Then came the table.

The table had been mom's as well.

However, it had been subjected to quite a bit of abuse and didn't look very nice.

The finish was peeling off.

There are a few cracks in the wood.

It had been left out on a porch and exposed to the elements a bit too long.

But it was moms and Mary Jane could not bear to see it tossed out with the trash.

 

So she brought it over.

She wanted it to have the look of the outdoors since it will eventually live in their mountain cabin.

Mountains, a river, fish, a cabin, ferns -

 all of the things that they love about their cabin were to be included on the table.

 

A little sanding.

A little priming.

A lot of color and . . .

Mary Jane's sad and unloved table has been given a new lease on life.

 

 

This little table is still a work in progress.

There is still some detailing left.

And of course - a good finish to protect it for years to come -

But I think I was able to capture the feel of the love and joy that they experience at their mountain retreat!

DANCE

When I was five, my mom put me in the car one day and told me she had a surprise for me.

We drove for a while - really just a short distance - but to me it felt like forever.

We arrived at an old school and went inside.

I was confused and nervous.

What were we doing?

We stood in a really, really long line.

And then it happened - she signed me up for ballet lessons.

We then went and bought tights, and leotards, lots of bobby pins and the best part of all . . .

ballet slippers.

I went to dance lessons and learned to plie, and releve'.

I learned about first position and all of the other positions.

To this day - over forty years later - I tend to turn my feet out when standing.

I learned about working at the barre.

We practiced during each class to a live piano player who spent her afternoons playing classical music for us to point and kick to.

And then in the winter - the best thing of all happened -

we got dressed up in our costumes, had our hair pulled back into a tight bun, had our faces smothered in thick make-up and performed our routine on a large stage in downtown Portland.

This was the same stage that the best theatrical performances were given on, and concerts and all the best talent in our City performed on.

And I got to do my simple ballet routine on it.

The lights were so bright and hot.

The audience applauded for us.

It was magical.

And I became instantly addicted to performing.

 

I continued dancing for years to come - all the way through college.

Besides ballet -

I experimented with jazz and tap.

I played around with ball room.

If it was performed to music - I tried it.

And as I grew - I discovered my love of theatre and my favorite thing of all was to perform in musical theatre.

There, I was able to satisfy my love of acting, music and dance.

There I found my bliss.

To this day - If I hear wonderful music, it is next to impossible not to move in some way.

 

But somewhere along the way -

I stopped dancing.

I had children.

The family came first.

Money was tight.

Time was short.

Patience were stretched.

I gained a few (ok maybe more than a few) pounds.

And I stopped dancing on stage . . . in public . . .even in front of my family.

The few times I danced, I confined myself to the safety of my own home when no one was around.

 

Recently - I watched a movie on dancers.

It was a documentary about young ballet dancers who are driven, and passionate and desperate to dance every minute of their lives.

I watched as they stretched and practiced.

I watched as they extended their legs.

They made it look so easy and fluid. Yet - having been a dancer, I understood the dedication and hard work involved. The ultimate athleticism.

I found myself longing for the bloodied toes and the aching muscles. Those things were almost like "badges of honor" to us dancers.

My heart and muscles almost ached for the feel of dance while I watched the movie.

And the feeling lingered for some time afterwards.

 

We all have that thing that makes us ache inside -

maybe for you it is music, or a sport, or writing or . . . .?

It was that thing that you loved to do more than anything else when you were young.

It's that thing that makes you feel restless when you ignore it.

It calls to you. It drives you.

 

Do you answer the call?

Do you still do it?

Do you still pursue that passion on a daily basis?

Why do we let these things go as we become adults?

Somewhere along the way, we become convinced that working on those passions is a sign of immaturity.

Or worse yet - it's a sign of being selfish.

 

Really? Being true to ourself and doing that which makes us the best that we can possibly be is selfish?

As I have grown and changed, I have developed new passions - my art and writing. These

 are passions equal to performing and music and dance.

Does that make me greedy to have more than one?

And if I have such strong desires for my art and writing - am I being greedy to want to pursue the old and forgotten ones?

Does that make me selfish? Or self-absorbed?

 

I am beginning to challenge that thought in my own life now.

I am wanting to reclaim those lost passions.

I want to DANCE!

 

Fearless Warrior?

 

 

"For the warrior, the experience of a sad and tender heart is what gives birth to fealessness. Conventionally, being fearless means that you are not afraid or that if someone hits you, you will hit him back. However, we are not talking about that street-fighter level of fearlessness.

Real fearlessness is the product of tenderness." Chogyam Trungpa

 

A short time ago, a friend gave me a book. . .

 a self-help book, which normally I would run away from.

I'm just being honest.

But this one is different.

It's written for a real person. By a real person.

It's full of wonderful life experiences and I have found myself sucked into it -

reading little bits every day and feeling uplifted, inspired and stronger.

In fact, it is full of little sticky notes where I have read passages that jump off the page at me.

 

The above passage jumped off the page at me today.

 

I have a another very good friend - who teaches martial arts.

He refers to this craft as being a "peaceful warrior".

 

Peaceful warrior.

 

Now normally, I would have heard that phrase and I wouldn't have given it any attention.

But the word "warrior" is not one that I think of or use in my daily communications.

It has a connotation of someone who is fierce and scary and who likes to fight.

Some like the street fighter that Trungpa refers to.

Someone who gets pleasure out of fighting.

 

Or it conjures up images of Melk Gibson in Braveheart.

And if you know me very well . . .you know that I have never watched that movie because, again -

the idea of a warrior makes me uncomfortable.

In fact - it scares me a little.

 

So why am I hearing this word so often lately.

Seriously - it seems like I keep hearing and seeing this word.

What I am supposed to learn from this?

 

Hmmmm -

Then today, I read the above quote in my book.

And there is that warrior word again.

And Chogyam Trungpa states that a true warrior is tender.

A true warrior has experienced sadness and has a tender heart.

 

And as my friend stated - a warrior is peaceful.

Wow!

OK - obviously, I meant to learn a lesson here.

 

 

I have expereienced a lot of sadness this last six months.

I feel like I have been in a battle every day.

 

I have also experienced a lot of joy.

Big, little and medium sized victories -

 

I like to think that I have a tender heart.

Heaven knows - if I am in your presence and you begin to weep over something that is weighing you down . . .

I can guarantee I will be sharing your tears with you.

I tend to be very empathetic to others.

And as I continue to emerge from the experiences I have had over the last year,

I find that anger is one of the few emotions that I am NOT feeling.

Oh don't get me wrong - I have moments of being upset . . .even mad.

But anger is not an emotion that is dominating me right now.

I'm not angry with my circumstances or my ex husband or the universe . . .

quite the opposite.

I am curious as to what I can learn and share from this experience.

I am filled with compassion for my ex husband for the struggles that he is going through.

Does that mean I am being a doormat and am willing to not hold him accountable for his actions?

NO.

But I am filled with compassion and empathy.

I am filled with tendernes.

Through this experience I am learning a deeper sense of compassion and tenderness . . .

and I am learning to be more compassionate and tender to . . .

wait for it . . .

-

to MYSELF.

 

Yup.

Me.

Myself.

I.

 

Oh boy - is that ever new for me!

Compassion and tenderness and empathy -

those are emotions you have for other people - not yourself? Right?

I mean - as a wife, a mother . . .a woman -

we have a tendency to put everyone elses needs before our own.

To not do that is selfish.

But how many of us keep doing that and then one day we wake up, look in the mirror and find that we are no longer in there?

We have lost ourselves.

I have looked back on all of the things that I removed from my life in order to be the perfect, selfless woman -

I gave up on friendships, interests and passions.

But those were all things that made me who I was.

So - I became lost.

 

It's almost a new year.

And I have never been one to spend a lot of time lamenting over resolutions.

I don't really see the point in looking at ways to improve myself based on a date on the calendar.

But this year is different.

And I have already been working on those resolutions.

And my number one resolution? -

to put myself first.

 

Not in a selfish way - but in a way that allows me to be a better person in order to give those around me what they need.

To allow myself to continue to grow a more tender heart.

And I can't emotionally do that without caring for myself first.

I will be more tender with myself.

I will forgive myself for my faults and take responsibility for them so that I can improve.

I will learn to say no to those things  and more importantly - those people -  that make me feel like less of a person - or who seperate me from my true purpose.

 

I am going to work on becoming FEARLESS.

 

And - here is where I am going to go out on a limb -

I am going to work to become a WARRIOR!

Where Would I Be Without A Song?

About a year ago I wrote a post about music.

I wrote how I was having a rough night and I retreated to my studio,

cranked up some music and through the power of a particular song -

the stress seemed to go away.

Today I will revisit that topic.

Lately - I am having a few more "rough" days than usual.

Now, please don't think that I am sitting at home,

having lost my will to go on.

It's nothing that dramatic.

In fact - quite frankly - I am doing quite well . . .

all things considered.

I have been making art like crazy.

I have had more orders than usual come in.

I have had successful art shows/festivals -

another one this weekend, in fact.

I am finding my groove in my new life as a single woman.

I am working through the "business" of divorce.

In fact - i can actually say the word now.

I smile more that I am sad.

I laugh more than I cry.

But some days . . .well -

the rough days creep in.

This last weekend I had a very successful art festival.

The weather was beautiful and the people were in abundance.

I saw old friends and met new ones.

It was a great weekend!

But it was also one of the hardest I have ever lived through -

I have been participating in this particular festival for the last four years -

and my husband was my partner each year.

We spent the whole weekend together as a team.

When I showed up with a girlfriend to set up my space, I was immediately asked where he was.

That set the pattern for the rest of the weekend.

They question "where is your husband?" was asked and I retold the story . . .

and answered questions, and received hugs and "I'm sorries".

The support was overwhelming.

But, although I felt all of the wonderful love and support -

each time the question was asked,

it was a bit like getting kicked in the stomach . . .over and over and over.

BUT . . .

I did well.

I stayed strong.

I kept a smile on my face.

Until Monday when I fell apart.

I was tired and it all caught up with me.

I cried. 

A lot.

You know the kind - gut wrenching, can't breathe, toxin cleansing crying. . .

A friend of mine sent me text to check in - how was I doing?

A rough day, I answered.

Her response was to have a cold diet pepsi and crank up some good music.

Obviously - she did not understand how upset I was.

Such simple advice for such a major meltdown.

I took the advice.

(I did; however, expand the advice to include a large bag of M&Ms - just for added insurance.)

I plugged my iPod into the dock in my studio and turned up the volume.

Way up.

The sound filled my studio room.

I was the only one home.

I pulled out the paints and the projects I was working on.

I was working on mindless base-coating - just laying in blocks of color.

The perfect task for singing.

I cleared my head and focused on the music.

I let the music play and I sang.

I sang loud.

I sang with feeling!

In between songs - I sipped my diet pepsi.

The music didn't change the fact that I was sad.

I am ok with feeling the sadness when it needs to be felt.

I need that to move forward.

But the music affected me on a soulful level.

As I sang - the tears cleared.

I felt a lift of pressure - I felt a bit of joy.

Through this process, many people have sent me songs to listen to.

Some of the songs talk about taking charge, surviving and using the bruises we gain in life to grow and excel.

The power of music cannot be understated.

A song can take me back to a particular place, a moment in time . . .

I can feel and smell and experience memories all over again when I listen to a song.

I have entire mood shifts based on the music I am listening to.

Music has been my companion through joy, sorrow, the birth of my children - I have used music to teach my children, to commemorate special events, to celebrate, to FEEL.

With music I feel the presence of God.

All I know - is that during this time of change -

music, art and a little diet pepsi seem to be the best medicine for this lady.