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!

 

 



Taking a Time Out . .

 

I started this girl about two years ago -

I liked her, but wasn't fully happy with her.

The colors were off - she just didn't feel right.

But the message spoke to me. I set her aside and was going to come back and finish her.

At some point, she ended up in a file, half completed.

It was almost as if I couldn't finish her because I didn't believe the message.

I wasn't committed.

I believed everyone else deserved that infamous "time out" -but I wasn't allowing myself that.

I had too much to do.

Hmmmmm.

 

Recently, while sorting through files and boxes of stuff that I couldn't deal with before my move,

I came across her again.

I stared at her and thought -

it's your time to come to life.

And as I thought that - I wasn't sure if I was saying this the girl in the illustration or to myself.

I put her in my "active" file of pieces that I am working on.

 

Last weekend, I escaped to the Oregon Coast for a short visit.

My weekend was very, very busy -

filled with long walks, naps, reading, meditating, sleeping and drawing.

OK - maybe busy is not the right word - but it was the kind of busy-ness I needed.

Other than the long walks, most of my time was spent in a rocking chair in front of a fire.

I took a short nap and then got up. I sat in the chair.  I pulled out my drawing supplies.

I opened my pack of paper.

And there, sitting on the top, was the original drawing of the "time out" girl.

I didn't realize I had her with me.

 

I didn't feel right working on the original version.

That was drawn during a different time and I was in a very different mind-set.

So I started from scratch.

I drew the girl above, attempting to capture the essence of the weekend I was having.

Kicking my feet up and spending all of my energy on .... ME!

 

I posted this on Facebook to share with friends and I was amazed at the response form my women friends.

 

Obviously - I'm not the only one that needs to be reminded to take a "time out" for ourselves.

 

We spend almost every waking minute doing for others -

our jobs, our families, our friends, our pets, our homes, our chores...

it's hard to know where to slip in some time for ourselves.

 

But the lesson that I have learned over the last year - and have to keep relearning -

is that when I take a few minutes and give to myself -

I am far more productive on the have-tos.

So - I plan on taking this particular piece and sharing it with my friends -

I'm also going to make a copy for my own walls.

 

So here is the question - what are YOU doing to take care of you?

Is it time for a time out?

Coming Out of the Dark . . .

It's Winter. . .

The darkness is beginning to lift slightly.

The days are trying to get a little longer.

The weather is going through a variety of personality changes which have included cold, blustery winds, freezing temperatures, thick, dense fog, sunshine and pounding rains.

 

The foggy mornings have been . . .beautiful.

I leave the house early in the morning, just as the morning light is beginning to creep up -

still a little hesitant.

It's as if the daylight is still trying to shake off it's evening slumber just like I am.

I leash up my trusty companion, Redford, and we trudge out to stretch our legs.

The last several mornings, I have been greeted by flocks of little birds flitting around the trees and singing their song.

I can see buds on the ends of the tree branches bulging with the hope of bursting out in the future.

The ground is beginning to swell in spots as bright green shoots are starting to push skyward.

The whole world looks as if it might explode.
 

And I am filled with hope and anticipation.

And as the fog clears, we are left with bright blue skies and a light that is unequalled during any other time of the year.

 

Once Christmas is past, I find the heaviness of the winter a little too much to bear.
The colorful lights of the Holiday come down and we are left with gray and darkness.
 

But when I see the little hints of what is to come . . .I feel a sense of lightness begin to creep in.

And I remind myself to relax and enjoy the coziness of the remaining winter months -

it won't last forever.

Spring is coming.

New life. New growth. New Light. New color. NEW.

And with these things in mind . . .

the morning fog begins to remind me of a blanket wrapped around the cold trees,

offering warmth until Spring returns and clothes the trees with their bright green foliage.

 

I have felt the same sensation building up in me lately.

The feelings of emerging from a very long winter.

 

When I was young, I had cousins who were living in Alaska.

They came for a visit.

It was early Spring and although the weather was ok in Oregon -

it was still cold.

We were wearing our coats and still dressing in our sweaters.

My Alaska cousins, having been raised in a much colder climate,

showed up and were wearing short sleeves and shorts.

They were outside continually.

They said it felt like summer to them.

Their version of "normal" was much different from mine.

 

For the last several years, I lived as if everything was fine.

Life was "normal".

I had adjusted to the way my life was -

I got up every morning and kept myself in motion.

I played the role of wife and mother, business owner, artist . . .etc., etc., etc.

Whatever was required at the moment.

When my husband lost his job and said he needed to find himself,

I moved through each day and picked up the extra duties as needed.

I adjusted my version of normal.

 

With the changes that have taken place in my world,

it is as if the cloak of winter is beginning to lift.

I am begining to see that I was not living . . .I was surviving.

I was existing . . .but not thriving.

I laughed. Sometimes.

I smiled. Sometimes.

I slept. Sometimes.

I created art and used color and shared words of hope.

But I wrote the words of hope to save myself.

Now I write them because I want to share the joy that I am feeling in myself.

I feel like the buds of the trees that I see on my walks -

bulging with a joy and hope and anticipation that is just waiting to explode.

 

The fog is lifting.

I am seeing what was and what is to come with a brighter light.

 

I have felt like I have been standing on a cliff but was too afraid to jump because I couldn't trust where I would land.

I couldn't see the bottom through the thick fog.

But now that the light is returning and the fog is lifting -

my view is brighter and I can see that there are wonderful things at the bottom of the cliff.

Things that make me laugh and smile.

Things that make me believe that my dreams are truly attainable.

Things that make me excited with anticipation.

I am no longer existing . . .I am living.

I now laugh . . .often.

I now smile . . .often.

I now sleep . . .often.

 

My own personal Spring is emerging and I welcome this change of season.

 

 

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!

 

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.

Fall, Autumn . . .Beautiful

Regardless of what you call it-

fall or autumn -

I call it beautiful!

My favorite time of year -

I love it!

And I think we do it pretty well in Oregon.

 

Sometimes, the rain that comes in this time of year is a little tough to take.

But it also seems to wash everything clean -

and then when the sun peeks through,

the colors are more intense and glisten.

 

And the colors - oh the colors!

Once again,

God and Mother Nature prove that they are indeed the best of all artists!

 

 

This picture was taken at about 10:00 pm while walking the dog. The street light cast an ethereal glow . . .so pretty.

This color of gold warms my soul!

My view every day as I walk into my day job. . .

A favorite tree of mine - year round. Such a beautiful shape and color.

Even the shrubs are putting on their best.

Beautiful berries on the dogwood tree.

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.

I'm JUMPING

Multi-media painting on upcycled wood with upcycled frame
 

Life.

A crazy ride.

It's been a rollercoaster in my world lately.

Moving at the speed of light.

In fact, for my birthday this year -

my kids surprised me with a trip to a local amusement park.

A good portion of the day was spent riding roller coasters.

I took on that adventure with a sense of symbolism -

life is a rollercoaster - and one hell of a lot of fun!

 

And throughout this experience, I have had the chance to jump and jump high.

 

A few things that have happened. . .

 

I signed papers for my divorce. That was strange and disconcerting.

But deep down, I knew it was the right thing to do.

Full of every range of emotion possible.

 

I was able to participate in "the" show of the year.

This was a show I have wanted to participate in for over 6 years - but I was never brave enough to jury in for it.

This year - I took the leap.

I was accepted.

I participated this weekend.

And it was a tremendous success for me.

I was surrounded by some of the most talented women artists in the region.

I was humbled to be a part.

 

I have been working on a huge PO for one of my wholesale accounts.

The biggest ever.

I was brave and went in and talked to the buyer.

We expanded my line with their stores.

I conquered my gremlin on that one and it paid off.

 

I have reconnected with old friends.

Friends I haven't spoken with in almost 30 years.

And it feels good.

I have rekindled these relationships and wondered why they were neglected for so long.

It has felt like a warm homecoming.

These are people who knew me well and understand who I am, who I was, and what makes my soul leap.

We have shared laughs, tears, and many wonderful memories.

 

I have taken mini-vacations to replinish my soul and feed my inspiration.

I have listened to new music.

Looked at amazing art.

Read uplifting books.

 

I have gone into collaboration with a new business associate.

My work can now be found as a needlepoint patterns at

Kathy's Needlework Creations.

 

I have been putting new ideas out there and experiencing the joy of

reaping the rewards.

 

Now don't get me wrong -

the last four months have been full of a lot of sadness, frustration and a little anger as well.

There has been discouragement.

There has been a constant sense of being overwhelmed.

There has been fear . . .more fear than you can possibly imagine.

But friends and family keep stepping in and lightening the burden.

They have encouraged and lifted me up.

 

But I am here to say -

I have tested the theory.

I have jumped . . .

and I think I have seen a few wings sprouting back there.

Have you tried it yet?

Go on - jump.

And jump HIGH!