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".

 

 

 

 

 



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!

 

 



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.

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!

 

My hand won't stop drawing!!

A new piece - actually a special request from a friend. And it shows some of the influence from my online class with JoAnn Sharp!



You saw this one a few weeks ago - but it is finished now and not so blurry!



It's Wednesday.

That means American Idol.

I admit it . . .I am an American Idol junkie.

I love the show - I grew up singing and performing.

I don't do it often now - but I do love listening to the performers.

However, there is a problem.

I don't have a cable connection in my art studio. I don't want tv in my art studio.

I do watch movies in there - and I have been known to netflix entire series of tv shows in there.

(OK - confession, I watch alot of tv shows on netflix in there - but it doesn't count, because there are no commercials!)

But I don't want the commercials in my studio. My studio is my sacred space and I don't want that in there.

So when I choose to watch AI on Wednesday nights - I either have to move everything that I paint with into another room - or forgo painting all together.

So instead - I compromise and doodle and draw and experiment with my paper and pencils and new markers.

And I am having a great time -

And I am enjoying the fact that they are so portable!

And now another confession . . .

I did it.

I broke down and have started my collection of copic markers.

I do not; however, have them yet.

It was more affordable to buy them online.

And now I will be experiencing Christmas is May!

So I will have to wait . . .and wait . . .and wait.

In the meantime, I will keep playing with these tombow markers and I'll keep you posted on my experimentation with the new copics once they arrive.

So to say the least - if you wonder where I will be at about 8:00 tonight -

it's a pretty safe bet that I will be sitting on my bed,

the tv remote close at hand,

and my drawing supplies spread out it front of me.

If You Give An Artist A Pencil . . .

And evening doodle created using sharpie and TomBow markers on watercolor paper.

So recently I decided to take an e-course.

I signed up and have been practicing (some) on decorative lettering with JoAnn Sharpe
If you are not familiar with JoAnn . . .seriously - drop what you are doing and check out her happy whimspirational art!
I have to admit - I have a bit of starstruckedness. (I know that isn't a word - but go with me here.)

As part of the class - there was a supply list.
Pens - check. Pencils - check. Rulers - check. Watercolors - check. Paints - check. Paper - check. Markers - Markers???
I don't usually buy markers. I've never liked markers -
Markers always leave lines and look . . .unprofessional.

I was really surprised when I learn that markers play a significant part in JoAnn's work.
And I LOVE JoAnns work.

So that got me to thinking -
Why markers?
What have I been missing?

Then I started researching and found a whole world I have never explored.
Markers!!!
Now you experienced people are probably thinking . . .
Who is this girl who doesn't use markers?
I mean - I know all about Crayola markers.
And then there Pentel markers, and the LePlumes. They are nice. They are ok.

But there are so many many many more.
I learned about TomBows.
Did you know they are waterbased and you can create a watercolor effect with a brush and water?
How cool is that???

And Copics
Oh Copics.
There are no words to describe the world of Copic that I have discovered.
Again - you seasoned artists are probably thinking - "Aah, who is this person? And she calls herself an artist!"

I shopped and perused online sites for information and pluses/minuses of the various brands and what they would do and what they were good for and one and one and on.
I watched video after video.
I have become obsessed.

In the end . .. I bought some TomBows. Two sets.
(Which in the end - one would have been sufficient, I think. But oh well.)

And finally - I am now adding pennies to my piggy bank to save up and buy copics.
Lots and lots of copics.
I am considering making a sign and standing on a corner.
The sign will read -
"Will work for copics".

And so you can see . . .
just like that little mouse in the children's book
"If You Give A Mouse A Cookie" . . .
This may never end.