I Am....

I came across this quote by CS Lewis the other night.

It YELLED at me...

And I created the drawing above.

Then when I was saving the photo, I noticed I had another photo saved with a similar name.

Obviously I love this quote because I did another drawing with it very recently - back in January.

Is the universe trying to teach me a lesson here?

 

 

So it got me thinking...

What do I believe I am?

I remember sitting in a workshop many years ago.

We were supposed to find a partner and introduce ourselves.

We were then instructed to write down who we were.

We took our pens and began scribbling quickly.

We created our personal resumes on our paper.

We then shared our answers...

Wife, Mother, Sister, doctor, lawyer, assistant, teacher, student, volunteer, etc., etc., etc...

 

The teacher thanked us all and told us that not one of us had answered his question.

We all looked around in confusion.

We had long lists stating who we were.

 

"Those are the roles that you fill each day. They are not 'who' you are...", he said.

"Now - write down "WHO" you are".

 

We took our pens in hand and .....

Sat in silence.

No pens were moving.

We were all stumped.

We looked around the room hoping that the answer would find us.

How do you answer that question?

 

If I couldn't state my roles - then who was I?

This question wasn't about what I did or how I spent my time -

but it was about those things that we hold so close to ourselves, deep down inside.

The things that we feel uncomfortable speaking out loud because it may be interpreted as being

egotistical or vulnerable or afraid...

The ever-thriving personal internal debate...

"like yourself just the way you are - but don't brag about it or you are conceited."

or

"don't show your fears and vulnerabilities or someone will take advantage of you".

 

So "who" am I? Who do I believe I am?

I'm still learning the answer to that question.

I may never fully know the answer because I am always growing and changing and evolving.

I hope I never stop.

 

But let me share the words of Marianne Williamson -

 

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
― Marianne Williamson, Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles"

 

This quote gives me goosebumps every time I read it.

This is who we are -

it is who I am...

 

And I hope that, as I let my light shine as bright as I am able, it will "give other people permission to do the same." As I am "liberated from my own fear", I can "liberate others".

 

 

 

 

 



Random Order

 

A few random thoughts on this Friday morning . . .

 

1. I'm going to be a Grandma again. Or "Nanna" as my grandson calls me. He is going to be a big brother! Yeah...So happy, proud and excited.

2. We are just about ready to close on the house I moved out of in December . . .I was beginning to think this was never going to happen. (Heavy sigh of relief).

3. I love clouds. I don't like gray skies - but I love the clouds we get in Oregon this time of year...So majestic and beautiful.

4. I am ready for Spring and color.

5. I love to laugh.

6. I have a lot of things I want to do . . .and sometimes I feel a sense of panic because I am so anxious to do them all....NOW

7. I still love to read some of my favorite children's stories. And I read them to myself.

8. I feel honored when I witness miracles.

9. I LOVE dragonflies and swallows.

10. I miss holding hands with someone special.

11. I don't like the judges on American Idol this year - it kind of ruined the show for me.

12. I love listening to live music.

13. I love to drink fresh juice in the morning.

14. It's never too late to try something for the first time.

15. I don't like to have my picture taken.

16. I don't like to be the center of attention.

17. I love spontaneous get-togethers.

18. I want to take a dance class.

19. I would prefer to see live theater over a movie.

20. I am grateful for my dog - who forces me to get outside, even when I don't want to.

21. I love pistachios.

22. I've discovered I actually like Country music - not all, but a lot of it.

23. Making new friends is scary . . .but fun.

24. I have learned how to ignite the pilot light on my gas fireplace, trouble shoot my garage door opener when it isn't working, and fix my garbage disposal when it gets clogged.

25. I have a love/hate relationship with the weekend.

26. Honey Nut Cheerios are really yummy.

27. I am not as organized as I would like to be but I am willing to accept this flaw.

28. I love hats - but I don't like wearing them. They make my head itch.

29. Dreams are Weird!

30. I get so frustrated when I have a day off and can sleep in but wake up earlier than I do during the week.

31. Why do people wait until they are far away to tell you how they feel?

32. Shrimp salad rolls with peanut sauce.  Enough said.

33. A good pillow should never be underestimated. Same goes for good pots and pans.

34. My kitchen knives really need to be sharpened!

35. 10:00 in the morning is NOT too early for good chocolate. 

Let Your Flag Fly. . .

 

Ever since I was little, I have loved music.

I love to listen to music.

I love to go to concerts.

I love to sing.

I love to play music on the piano (I even played the organ when I was younger).

 

Music is a source of joy for me.

It is also the way I cope with stress, anxiety, sadness, and every other emotion I experience.

I use music to convey my feelings that I cannot find words for.

Many times, if a friend is struggling or I want to tell them something that I can't find words for - I will send them the link to a song.

I love music.

 

Music is a part of me.

Music is ALWAYS playing in my car and in my home.

I have smacked people's hands and scolded them for turning down my music.

Heaven forbid they should turn it off!!!

 

I budget the purchase of music into my monthly budget!

I love music.

 

When I was College age, I was living in a tourist town and working for a couple who owned a motel.

They set me up in a motorhome so I could have my own "space".

It was a great arrangement until they took away my electrical supply.

I still had lights and heat - but I lost my ability to play my music on my "boom box". (Remember those? LOL)

I sunk into a bit of a depression.

I was lost.

I had a hard time functioning and when I was alone in my space, I would experience an overwhelming sadness.

At that point in my life, I had a major "a-ha" moment as to how important music was in my life.

It was not a "like" . . . It was a requirement!

 

Fast forward to present day. ..

 

As you know, I have recently moved.

I am in a new neighborhood and am establishing new routines.

My daughter and I made a major decision when we set up our new place.

We opted to not put a television in our main living space.

We both have tv's in our rooms, and I do enjoy watching a movie in the evening every once in a while.

But we didn't want the energy of the tv dominating our living space.

We wanted that space for talking and relaxing.

And because of this . . .the first thing I do when I go into my kitchen/living space, is turn on music.

I've never thought anything about it. . .

until a friend had visited for a couple days at the beginning of the month.

My friend (who had never "stayed" with me before) commented that his favorite thing about being in my home was that the music is always on.

Hmmmm .... well, of course it is.

It's a requirement!

And not only is the music on - I am usually singing right along with it.

Rather loudly.

I am not shy about singing to my music in my home. (Sorry neighbors).

But singing loudly has snapped me out of melancholy moods, sad moments, and boosts my happiness quotient.

So why wouldn't I sing?

Music playing in my home is almost as much of a requirement as . . .electricity!

 

Recently I was out of town helping a friend move.

There were several of us who had gathered together for the weekend to lend a hand.

We were loading up my car with items to be donated.

My keys were in the ignition, the music was playing loudly, and the car doors were open.

Oh - and we were in a parking area where there was a lot of traffic.

A great song came up on the CD player - one of those songs that you just can't help moving to when you hear it.

I started dancing.

Then the person I was working with started dancing.

We had a dance party right in the middle of the parking lot with strangers looking on.

Some laughed. Some looked at us like we were "freaks".

 

I have a dog.

I no longer have a yard.

This means that I must, without fail, take my dog on a couple walks a day.

We have a couple very short walks - and two long walks.

And it is just me and him.

I am creating my new walking path.

And as always - music is a part of my walk.

I plug in my headphones, turn it up loud enough to block out the world and walk the dog.

And I always find myself singing . . .out loud.

In my old neighborhood, I walked in a school yard and was almost always alone.

So no one noticed my singing and dancing to the phantom music that only I could hear in my headphones.

 

But I walk in a neighborhood now. The other day, I was walking and singing - at full volume- and I looked up and saw a few of my new neighbors looking at me with strange looks.

I felt a bit like a "freak".

 

I made a comment about it on FaceBook and a friend told me to "Let your freak flag fly high!".

I love that statement.

And I love flying my freak flag . . .sometimes.

But usually, I am very shy about it.

Until recently. I am trying to not worry about what others think.

If it makes me happy . . .I need to do it!

 

But it got me to thinking. . .

We all come into this world with certain talents, abilities, passions and drives.

Some passions, talents and drives develop based on our environment, friends and the things we are exposed to.

I KNOW that I came into this world with a passion for the arts - especially music.

We may take lessons to develop those talents - we may explore and spend time on them every day.

We become proud of them.

And then . . .

we hide them.

Why???

We find ourselves feeling self-concious if we sing out loud at the top of our lungs while walking our dog.

We worry what the neighbors will think.

 

I wonder - I pay money to go see certain musicians play on a stage and feel honored and excited to be part of the audience.

But what would I think if I saw them singing out loud while walking down the street - especially if I didn't "know" who it was?

Would I recognize the talent and stop to enjoy?

Or would I think they were strange?

Would I honor the fact that they were "flying their freak flag?"

Or would I look away and try not to make eye contact?

 

What would the world be like if we felt more comfortable "flying our flag?"

I think - no, I believe - it would be a much better place . . .

we would hear more music, experience more dancing, engage in more laughter and see more color.

We would live in a world that was full of people who were passionate about performing the mundane tasks of everyday life because they could openly express themselves.

And because they could openly express themselves in a way that brought them joy,

it only stands to reason that we would all be happier.

And that cannot be a bad thing.

 

So here is my decision -

I am flying my flag . . .high and proud!

Or least I am going to try. .

I am going to do my best to let my passions for life be seen on a daily basis.

So if you happen to see a dark haired woman out walking her big, curly dog and singing at the top of her lungs - rather than looking at her like she is strange -

why don't you join in and sing with her?



Do the Hustle . . .

Five, six, seven, eight . . .

Step, ball change, step, step...

Dance. Choreography. Routines.

I spent a lot of time in musical theater rehearsals and in dance classes growing up.

I spent countless hours stretching at a barre.

I learned ballet and jazz and modern and tap.

I did not have a favorite.

I learned to dance the charleston, the hustle, the boot scootin' boogie and just about every other dance trend you can imagine.

I loved it all.

While in high school, I met a friend.

He was a little overweight and not very "cute".

He was considered a little odd.

He didn't really "fit" in.

He was teased sometimes by his peers.

But he was kind and we became friends.

Really great friends.

We discovered that we shared some important common interests - music and dance.

He had an amazing music collection on albums.

Remember those? Vinyl!

I had a tape player.

I would give him blank tapes - he would record his albums for me.

And then we would go find an empty room at the school, or at our church or . . .whereever.

We would drag along a boom box (remember those?) and some of the music tapes.

And we would crank up the music and dance.

On the dance floor - 

he became a different person.

He was Fred Astaire. I was Ginger Rogers.

We would be gliding around in our jeans and athletic shoes - but I imagined that he was in a top hat and tuxedo and I was in a ball gown.

He knew every kind of dance imaginable - 

We would waltz.

We would swing.

We even (I must confess) did disco. 

He was a great leader. 

I learned how to follow his lead by the simplest of touches on my back.

We would do spins, and lifts, and dips, and all sorts of tricks. 

I trusted him. He trusted me. 

I think today of some of the throws he would do with me, and I can't believe that we were that brave.

At times, I felt suspended high in the air above him.

We developed an unspoken language.

When we were 17 we entered a talent contest. We danced.

We didn't even have a set routine - we worked better if we were spontaneous.

We danced.

We won.

Occasionally I attended social dances at my school or my church. 

At these dances, if my partner of choice was not there, I would dance with others.

Very often, when I attended these dances, I wasn't asked to dance very often. I would stand on the wall - yes, it is true - I was a bit of a wallflower.

Often the ones who did ask me to dance were not great partners.

They struggled to know what to do with their feet, where to put their hands, where to look - 

we lacked . . .communication.

I didn't enjoy it.

When the song ended, I would thank them and try to escape as quickly as possible.

And then I would wait and look for my friend - the wonderful dance partner.

 

After my children were born, I pretty much stopped dancing.

Or did I?

I feel like I have been involved in a dance of sorts for the last several months.

This dance has had all sorts of partners-

the unknown, fear, sadness.

These partners have not been very good leaders.

They are unpredictable and are poor at communicating. 

They leave me feeling lost and frustrated and very, very insecure with my abilities.

I have also danced with the partners of happiness, hope, peace and joy.

I prefer dancing with these partners.

I trust these partners - they help me to feel confident and special and in charge of my life.

They are the partners that are encouraging me to chase me dreams and to achieve a new level of life that I never thought possible.

And because these partners are all about building confidence in me - 

they are trusting ME to take the lead.

The bad dance partners are still going to come and go - just like in those social dances of my youth.

But I don't have to spend more than one song with them.

I thank them for the dance- and make my escape.

And then - I go and look for my favorite partners to finish the night out with.

BELIEVE. . .

First of all . . .may I just express my thrill.

Because of a readers comments, I tried doing this through Firefox and SUCCESS!

I was able to upload a photo. 

Whew! One less thing to stress over. LOL

The statement in this piece is near and dear to my heart.

A little walk down memory lane . . .

My dad was in sales for as long as I can remember.

He was self-employed for many of his working years.

Tried his hand at a few businesses - all related to his area of specialty, which was insurance and financial planning. 

Some of the businesses failed.- some didn't.

But he was a hard worker and tenacious.

And in the end - he was successful.

He took care of his family and his wife and still does to this day.

He instilled an incredibly strong work ethic in each of his children.

We all were expected to do chores with no allowance - or payback was a warm, wonderful home to grow up in and no lack of food to eat. 

He taught us that being a member of a family was a group effort and he would pay us the day that he got paid for his chores around the house.

He kept our yard beautiful.

We had a huge garden that fed us and my summers were spent canning with my parents.

He loved and still does love my mother with all of his heart. 

He taught us, his children, to follow our dreams.

He taught us that we had the power to learn and work at anything that we were passionate and to never give up on it.

I remember, being College age. I had been a musical theatre major.

I knew it was not the smartest option for College - but it was what I was passionate about. 

One day I decided to change. I was going to go into physical therapy. 

How's that for a total directional change.

I enrolled in science and medical classes - 

I was excited - but I stopped sleeping and starting having bad dreams.

He sat me down and told me to stop trying to be someone I wasn't meant to be. 

Follow your heart, he said.

I stopped pursuing physical therapy - and then the nightmares stopped and I began to feel better.

He is my hero.

Because of the line of work he was in, he was often involved in sales conferences and seminars.

I remember several times - from about age 12 on through high school,

that he would take me to these with him.

Why?

Because the nature of his work was sales - these conferences were often geared towards methods for making more money in the industry.

But the talks were not about knocking on more doors or being a salesman . . .

They were about using the power of positive thought to accomplish great things.

The power of positive thinking.

He told me he wanted me to be able to do whatever I wanted - and that understanding this concept was a key element to that.

Growing up - 

there have been many different approaches to this concept - 

but in the end, and in it's simplest form - 

it all comes down to this:

We are what we believe we are.

Think you are happy? . . .then you are.

Think you are miserable? . . .then you are.

Think you are strong and courageous? . . .then you are.

Think you are fabulous? . . .then you are.

I learned this concept at a very young age.

But I didn't begin really applying it until adulthood.

OK - moment of truth - 

I still struggle with this concept.

I struggle with it each and every day.

My own self-defeating gremlins and demons get in the way sometime.

But regardless of the struggle . . .I also know that it is true.

Believe what you are and what you want to do in this life.

Believe in the possibility.

Believe in the power of yourself.

This next week, my father is going in for a major surgery. 

He is 81.

I know that he will be ok - in fact, he will emerge better than he is.

But my heart is still hurting for him and my mom and, quite frankly, for myself.

And in his honor - I am going to believe that he will be more than fine - he will be amazing!

Thanks, Daddy. I love you and I appreciate the lessons that you shared with me.

 

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!

What is Fear Preventing You From Doing?

 

Remember when we were kids?

We would sit in our grade school classes and the teacher would ask us -

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I don't know about your class -

but in my class, the answers were BIG things.

No one said - I just want to be ordinary.

We had BIG dreams. BIG hopes. BIG desires.

We didn't think about how much money it would make or what others would thin of our choices -

We lived by our dreams.

 

As for me. . .

I fantasized about being a ballet dancer.

I wanted to twirl on my toes and wear flowing skirts or sparkly tutus.

 

I wanted to be singer - not with a rock band -

but with a big, full swing orchestra.

And even when I was young, my dream would have been to dress up in 40's style vintage dresses and sing classic American dance standards for a band like Duke Ellington or a jazz band like Ella Fitzgerald.

(Truth be told - I still have this fantasy!)

 

I dreamed of being a Broadway actress.

Doing that meant I could combine all of my passions together.

I wanted to perform in classic musicals like West Side Story or 42nd Street.

The more dancing the better -

and I did get to perform in some amazing musicals when I was younger - just not on Broadway.

But I miss that part of my life and will find a way to return.

 

I dreamed of working in the Peace Corps -

living a life of poverty in a remote village in a jungle and selflessly helping others.

 

I dreamed of being a police woman like Angie Dickinson was on tv.

Or a lawyer like Perry Mason.

I dreamed of being the perfect mom who had a whole group of children and never got ruffled like Mrs. Brady.

I dreamed of being a cool, hip musician mom like Mrs. Partridge. . .

 

But I never, ever dreamed of being an artist.

I tried art in grade school.

I tried it in high school.

I thought I had no talent whatsover and that feared stopped me from even taking a class.

If I drew something or tried to be artistic, I would cover it up and not let anyone see.

I would only try if I was hidden in my room - and it almost always ended up in the garbage.

I didn't get the courage to try to really explore art or painting until I was well into my 30s.

And even then - I was scared to really try.

I used patterns or only painted in solid colors and let someone else do the detailing for me.

 

I didn't even utter the phrase

"I am an artist"

until 10 years ago.

It took me that long to say to myself,

"I don't care what it looks like - I am going to paint for myself."

And when I lost the fear - life began.

 

What is preventing you from trying to do . . .?

It's time for a fresh start.

It's time to explore those dreams and make them happen.

It is time to LIVE.

Dream big with god nothing is impossible

 

When I was a young girl,

I learned a song that I sang at church.

I don't remember much of it - but I do remember a line that said,

"And with God, Nothing is impossible."

 

I believed this, I think.

But at that age -

I just took life as it came and it all seemed good.

My goals were pretty basic -

graduate from school, have a date to the prom (and there is a good story with that), get to sleep in on Saturday mornings,

 

As an adult -

the desires are a little bigger.

But as I put this theory to the test -

I'm beginning to think that there is some truth here.

 

So I am going to keep dreaming BIG.

Because I have decided that little dreams don't really suit us.

 

So what are you dreaming about doing?

What big, giant, momentous things do you think about and want and desire?

 

Let's all make a pact to keep our dreams big  -

but more importantly - Let's choose to believe that we deserve them. . .

 

Just a little thought that helps me keep going these days.

Taking Care of My Bamboo . . .

Ted Talks.

I love them.

A while ago a friend turned me on to a talk that was delivered in Portland.

It was called "Watering the Bamboo".

It's about twenty minutes

- but seriously -

take twenty minutes and watch it.

Go on - click on the link above and watch it.

Then come back and finish reading.

You will not regret it.

It will inspire you.

It will make you feel hopeful and full of purpose.

It will give you a new insight into this crazy thing called life.

 

So now . . .

about the drawing above.

This is not one of my best.

I get that.

But remember - I work an 8-5 job in an office.

I attend a lot of meetings.

I suffer from a little condition I call AADD -

Artists Attention Deficit Disorder.

I have a hard time sitting still during meetings.

I get fidgety. I get anxious. And then I miss everything that is being said.

So I doodle.

I am a bit of a joke around the office -

everyone wants to see my "meeting notes" because they are usually filled with all sorts of drawings and doodles with a few notes, words and reminders scattered about.

 

I was in a meeting the other day.

 I had just watched the Ted Talk on Watering the Bamboo the day before.

And it was still swirling around in my head.

This is the doodle that came out.

 

It was obviously still sitting in my sub-concious.

And I really spent some time thinking about my situation.

 

A few days ago, I received notice from my realtor that the deal on my house was nearing completion.

Where I thought I would be moving out of my home after the first of the year -

I discovered that it would probably be before Thanksgiving.

I hung up the phone and instead of happiness and relief I felt anger, panic and sadness.

I cried.

Where am I going to go? How am I going to move 16 years worth of stuff?

When am I going to get all of this done?

How much change can I person deal with in a short period of time?

 

But the words of the bamboo analogy came back to me.

Now - to understand what a profound effect this had on me - you will have to watch the video.

Just suffice it to say -

I was reminded, by my very wise father, of  all the things that had been taking place over the last few years leading up to these very important moments.

And it's good.

It's very very good.

And since the day that my life was thrown off kilter -

I have had some absolutely wonderful things take place.

Many that I can't even talk about here yet.

But dreams and wishes are beginning to come true.

And the thing is -

I don't think they would have happened if things had stayed the way they were.

 

So basically -

I have spent the last several years watering my bamboo.

And now - it has sprouted.

And watch out -

cause it is starting to grow!

 

Here are a few other silly office meeting doodles . . .

Nothing to do with the bamboo, but I figured I share them just the same!

A little Halloween doodle . . .

Patterns and designs doodle . . .

 

 

 



Dream while you are awake

 

We all dream. . .

Pretty much every night.

In fact, in College I did a research paper on dreams.

It was fascinating.

The cycles of sleep, the importance of sleep and more importantly -

the importance of dreams.

Did you know that we dream multiple times through the night?

And we only remember our dreams if we wake up in the middle of it?

Things that make you go hmmmmm . . .

 

So what are we dreaming that we don't remember?

And why should all of the good dreams happen when we are asleep and we can't enjoy them?

 

I prefer to save the good ones -

the really wonderful inspiring, juicy dreams for when I am awake and I can remember them.

And that way  -

Maybe I can actually participate and make them come true.

The Birth of a Bridge

This is the story of the birth of a painting.

A while ago, a great friend of mine approached me about a possible opportunity.

She works for a large business in Portland that is part of the Greater Portland Postal Customer Council.

Now - I do not pretend to understand exactly what that means, but trust me - it is important to this story :)

Her company is one of the largest customers of the US Postal service in our area.

Their company also participates in a campaign every year with this organization called

"Bridging the Future Together".

For this campaign, they pick a local artist to produce a painting depicting one of Portland, OR's bridges.

Afterall - we are not just known as "The City of Roses",

but also as "Bridgetown" and The City of Bridges" because of all of the bridges -

12 major bridges in all!

Fast forward a few months - and I am asked to create this years bridge painting.

Cool!

I am excited.

I am flattered and I am humbled.

I go downtown and take photos of Portland's steel bridge.

Just like a "real" artist.

I come home and stare at the photos.

And then I panic!

I mean - upset stomach, can't sleep panic.

I am NOT a landscapey-scene painter.

I am whimsical and unrealistic and playful.

I am NOT a realistic painter.

Bridges are structural and gray and black and steel . . .

After a serious bout of "self-talk" and more encouragement from my friend, I get started.

I blow up one of the photos - I use graphite paper and trace the image.

And I start painting.

I take a few liberties but not many.

And this is what I came up with . . .

Version 1 - blurry image (sorry)

Hmmm - it's ok. Barely.

I show it to my husband - hoping for words of encouragement.

But instead of glowing praises, he says - "I thought it was supposed to be of the bridge. It's a painting of a tree with a bridge in the background."

I am hurt and offended -

and then I am honest and admit - "I do not like it and I am not proud."

Round 2

Concept - bring the bridge forward.

More color.

A sun.

More "whimsy" in the water.

Oh - and I went downtown and took more photos from a different view point.

I finish and stare at it.

I show it to the family.

"Hmmm - nice".

Um - not the response I was going for.

But then - I'm not loving it either - WHY?

I call my friend. I need an honest and brutal opinion.

Seriously - what is with the blurry images? Anyway - version 2.

She is honest with me and says . . .

"It's not you. It looks like you are trying to paint in someone elses style. Be YOU. If we wanted a painting like all the others we would not have asked you. We want it in your style."

I thank her for the reality check.

I take a deep breath and decide that I really don't care what anyone else thinks.

This time I AMgoing to do it in MY style.

I throw away the graphite paper.

I decide I really don't care about scale and structure or any of those cold details.

I want my painting to be warm and bright and full of whimsy.

So here it is . . .the final version:

It may not be the most accurate depiction of Portland's Steel bridge -

but it's me.

And I was much happier submitting this.

It will now be framed and hung in Portland's main post office.

It will be scanned and reproduced onto calendars that are sent to businesses in the GPPCC.

It will be reproduced and matted and raffled off to winners.

And it looks NOTHING like previous year's paintings.

And a lesson was learned. . . .again.

As a painter, and in life - I have to be true to me.

When I am not - my journey is full of angst and stress.

And the outcome is less than desirable.

Thanks for sharing this story with me . . .

Is there anything more indulgent and enjoyable than sitting in bed,

watching a favorite guiltly pleasure on tv

and creating something fun?

this was some more fun that I was having with my new markers.

I wish I had curls like her.