Facing Fear

I've had a lot of time to think these last nine days and it is amazing what you can learn about yourself when you step back from the world for a bit.

I learned I'm not as introverted as I thought. I'm a bit stir crazy and I miss being around people. I'm tired of my house and I want to see the world again. Hopefully I'll be up for a drive to a park later today.

I learned that I need to have more fun. I fear I've become bland from too much school and work and I need to play. For me that looks like reading fiction, for one. Over the course of the last week I finished five books, all but one fiction, and the non-fiction was a Bill Bryson travel memoir, which comes close to fiction with his exaggeration and hyperbole.

Fun also includes watching movies. I am in love with cinema and part of me dreams of working on some kind of movie some day. Maybe helping create a documentary. Or writing a screenplay that becomes an animated film created by Lance. That would be cool.

I need more time to frolic in nature, to break out my camera and tinker with my loaned Lensbaby, to mess around with my paints and charcoal. If you've been reading my blog for a while, or if you remember Feisty Scribe, you've heard this refrain before. I think, however, that the surgery finally got me through my block about this.

But the biggest thing I learned this week relates to Fear. That nasty little monster, pussy-eyed and warty, sneaks up on me regularly and laughs maniacally in my ear. He whispers the most vile things to me, making my heart pound. I saw him quite a lot this week.

However, here's what I figured out, and it seems so damn simple when I write it: Fear is worse than the thing I'm afraid of. Fear is worse! Fear, with his foul breath, his razor-sharp tail, his disgusting crusty claws. He is worse than anything else. Worse than the doctor. Worse than surgery. Worse than pain. Worse than spiders and bankruptcy and failure and all those other things that plague my thoughts.

Fear was with me in pre-op. I was so nervous my body turned to ice and the nurse had to warm up my arm so she could give me the IV. My heart raced along like it was trying to win the Kentucky Derby. I gulped the air and tried to slow everything down so I could relax. When they finally wheeled me into the operating room, though, I knew there was no turning back. I had to face this surgery. (Of course, it did help that the anesthesia took over soon after.)

When I woke up dazed and dizzy in the recovery room, I wanted to shout with joy. I'd made it! I'd faced one of my biggest fears and I lived through it. Wow.

This is going to be my new mantra: Fear is worse and there is nothing I can't handle. Nothing. I can make it through whatever this life throws at me. And even better, I can come out the other side feeling stronger than before.

Post-Conference Reflections

Experiment with Lensbaby...see more at my Flickr

I've been back for nearly two weeks, and I am in awe of how the dream conference shifted my consciousness. I had an inkling before I left that something major would happen in Chicago, but I tried not to think about it while I was there lest I find significance in irrelevant things like how the waiter folded my napkin on the third night. I believe looking for synchronicity is a fine art, one that takes discrimination (although, I suppose one could argue there is significance in everything!).

The more I think about what message the conference brought to me, the more I see two clear themes emerge: I need to make my health my priority, and I need to stop hiding myself and my talents.

About my health: I had one of the most challenging weekends I've had in a long time this past weekend, experiencing pain that had me in bed for two days. I have avoided Western doctors for four years and yesterday, on the recommendation of a friend, I finally sat down and made the call. I have an appointment tomorrow. I'm a bit scared and I am trying not to let my past experiences color what I have in store for me. My hope is that I will get questions answered and that there is help for me that doesn't just include taking medications or getting surgery. I want to get to the core of the problem and take measures to truly heal it and prevent it from returning.

Making that phone call felt monumental. It tells me I am finally ready to take care of myself, that I am finally ready to listen to the signals my body and my dreams send me regularly. I tend to punish my body and I've started to wonder where I think that will get me. It deserves my respect and attention.

About sharing my talents: This is a recurring theme for me. I tend to make myself small, something I learned growing up. But all the messages in the last two weeks have been to ignore that urge and to instead be BIG. To bravely put myself and my talents out there. And to stop apologizing for who I am, hiding who I am, and feeling I am not good enough. I am good enough. People do want to hear what I have to say, and they want to see what I create.

As a result of this revelation, I am even more firm about my conviction to send some of my children's manuscripts back out to publishers. In a month I'll receive the brand new edition of the Children's Writers and Illustrator's Market and right now I'm polishing three manuscripts so they'll be ready to send when the Market arrives in the mail. Look how far I've come. Four years ago, I dissolved my contracts with my old publisher and I began a downward spiral, believing my career as an author was caput. This rebirth feels scary and painful and absolutely wonderful.

Dream Conference Memories: Day One

I stepped onto the shuttle bus, not sure what awaited me during my five-day stay in Chicago. Butterflies danced in my stomach, making me fidget. Then a friendly woman joined me on the bus. "Are you a dreamer?" she said. And that's when I knew this trip was going to rock.

It's also when the synchronicities began. Sue, the friendly woman I met on the bus, lives in Minnesota, land of my ancestors and a place that's been at the forefront of my consciousness. It's no wonder we hit it off immediately. I mentioned my presentation, and when she found out the topic was animals and dreams, our rapport grew.

On that same bus I met Peter, a quirky dreamer who joined me for dinner at the hotel restaurant the first evening. We shared dream and life stories and it turned out his wife is doing the same allergy-elimination therapy I am. Another coincidence.

And so it went for the entire conference. If I was brave enough to be myself and talk to perfect strangers (something I do not normally do), it meant I opened myself up to interesting conversations and connections. I'm happy to say, for the most part, I was brave enough, and that means I made many new friends.

That night, at the opening reception, I realized I have joined a tightly knit community of intelligent, fun, friendly people. The founders share friendships that are apparent and their love of dreams has not dissipated over the last 25 years. These are my kind of people: men and women who share a fascination with dreams, the unconscious, myth, archetype, the Earth, art, and psi. I felt I was in my element, free to be myself. What could be better?

Leap...You Already Know How to Fly

I created this collage back in September, and somehow along the way I forgot its message. That's me in the picture standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out into the open possibility. Maybe if I had real blue fairy wings attached to my back I would not be so nervous about leaping.

I'm at a point in my life where part of me feels ready to let go. I want to shed old ideas, old messages I replay in my head that are lies. I want to fully embrace the new me, to embody her and feel comfortable with her. Right now I'm stuck in that painful, confusing middle space between the old me and the new me and I am here because part of me fears letting go. What if my wings don't work when I step over the edge?

But the thing is, they will work. And I will soar. And so, very soon, I'll take a deep breath...and jump.

Red Door Show

On Friday I trekked with Lance and Susan to Oakland for the opening of Small Work for a Small Space, the show I am in at the Red Door Gallery and Collective. I had no idea what to expect. I've been to a few art shows before, so I knew there would be some mingling, some wine and cheese, and lots of interesting art to see. But I didn't know how I would react. I wasn't that nervous on the drive out, which surprised me. But when we arrived, the nervousness started to creep in.

Those old negative messages played in my mind. They said my art wasn't as good as everything else there, that all the other work was more creative and more likely to sell. The messages left me feeling small. I guess I was a small work in a small space too.

But I also felt proud. Proud that I took the leap and submitted my work, proud that it got accepted, proud that I was brave enough to show up and be with my unease. And I learned that the messages can still be there and I can work through them and ultimately feel good about putting myself out there.

I wasn't brave enough to mingle with the other artists, so after a while we left and walked down to the Oakland Art Murmur. I was inspired by the spontaneous music that sprung up, the vegan cupcakes for sale, and the fascinating art in the galleries. I felt uplifted that so many people are willing to put themselves out there and totally be themselves, and that so many other people come out to support that. Thanks to everyone who came to the show and gave their support to art that night.

Find Yourself and Then Be Yourself

Over the holiday break, I had time to take a long look at my life. The holiday art show season completely wiped me out. Last quarter I had no time for myself, little time for seeing friends, and I had to cram school work into every second I had left after working at the shows and my part-time job. I was stressed out and miserable. And confused.

I mean, wasn't getting into art shows supposed to be a fabulous thing? Wasn't that what I was striving for?

It might have been what I was striving for in September when I started signing up for all those fairs. And it still might have been what I was striving for in October when I had my first taste of doing a fair and kind of liked it because I saw that I could make money doing them. But by the end of the season, I was completely dead. I didn't even make it to my last show, and that was a hard decision to make. I started to feel that all-to-familiar feeling of failure creeping in. But I also saw how much I had run myself into the ground and I knew I needed a break.

So I took time to really think about what I wanted in my life and where I want to go with my artwork. And the answer was surprising...and completely obvious.

I want to be a writer, a photographer, and a mixed-media artist. I want to create books that combine these three things. I want to inspire, to show others the beauty and wisdom I find in nature. I want to do all of this in the most authentic, "me" way possible. And I want to start now.

None of that has anything to do with going to art fairs or trying to get more sales on Etsy. It really has nothing to do with making money or "turning my art into a viable business" or getting retail sales. The bottom line is, this is not about money. It's about making a difference, bringing an important message to the world, and being my authentic self without holding back.

So, I'm doing it. I'm jumping into this adventure with both feet. And I've made what for me is a terribly difficult but exciting decision, and it has several parts:

1. I am not going to do more than two fairs this year, and maybe none. (gulp)

2. I am going to write more on this blog in order to exercise my writing muscle, because

3. I am going to start writing a book.

Yes, you read right. I'm getting back into the writing world. Even though I have a lot of trauma related to the children's book I published, I am going to get back on that horse. And I am going to ride that horse into a glorious sunset with fairies and birds flying around me and sparkles and rainbows. Oh yes.

This decision makes my Should, that unbearable task-master side of myself, squirm in desperation. She can see she's losing the battle this time. I can no longer listen to her demands, because the demands of my soul are so much louder now. And I know I have the strength now to listen to my soul.

So, all of this means I am going to spend more time meditating, walking and sitting in nature, painting, and writing than prepping for art shows and updating my Etsy shop and trying to market myself. I never liked any of that anyway. It feels good to declare that!

I hope you will all come along for the ride. It's going to be a magical adventure.

Honoring the Snowy Owl

I have had an amazing month. For the last three weeks, I have been in my first art class since junior high. Signing up for this class meant taking a huge leap into something scary for me...sitting in a room full of artists and trying to feel like I belonged amongst them. Now that I have declared that I am an artist, I knew I needed to try it and see what happened.

This was the perfect class for my rebirth.

The class is called Sacred Art: Ancestors and Spirit Guides. I have been working with both ancestors and spirit guides for about a year now as part of my master's program at JFK, but I have not experienced anything quite as amazing as this. Part of it has to do with the teachers, Kaleo and Elise, who hold the space incredibly well and bring a wealth of knowledge and materials to the class. Part of it has to do with the journeying and qigong we do as part of the class in order to get in touch with our ancestors and spirit guides.

During this class, I became well acquainted with a new totem animal, the snowy owl. The owl came to me in a dream a few weeks before the class. Now she sits on my right shoulder, guiding me and encouraging me.

As part of honoring the spirit guide or ancestor who comes to us in this class, we create art pieces. In one journey, the owl gave me a cape and a nest, and I decided to make them to give them form in this world.

I started with the nest. I gathered sticks and twigs from the parking lot at school and brought a bag full of them to the second day of class. It took me four hours to twist and bend those twigs and sticks into a nest. I tied the twigs together with raffia and stuffed the inside with moss and lichen. In the journey, the owl had also shown me specific items to go in the nest: a piece of amethyst, a piece of jade, a piece of carnelian, and a blue egg.

These are all meaningful for me. Amethyst is a protector stone and it is also my birthstone (and favorite stone!). Jade connects one with the heart. Carnelian's energy works with the first three chakras and helps one manifest their creativity in the world. Connecting the energy of these three stones meant that I was connecting all of my chakras, and also connecting my spirit with my heart and my creativity. This is exactly what I am trying to do with my photography and art, and so this nest is a representation of where I am going with my creativity.

The blue egg ties it all together. Blue is the color of the fifth chakra, the only chakra not represented by the stones. The fifth chakra is about communicating and using one's voice. This is so meaningful for me, for I believe I am in the process of developing my true voice, and an egg in a nest could not be a more appropriate metaphor for this process.

After the nest was done, I tackled the cape. This was considerably more difficult for me, because I don't sew. I have dabbled and had a few lessons, and I have a sewing machine passed down from my mother-in-law, but I have had fear around making an entire piece.

I overcame this fear through this process. I Googled a hooded cape pattern. I went to the craft store and got fabric, buttons, and beads. I came home, cut out the pattern, and headed upstairs to learn, once and for all, how to thread my machine (it's a 1969 model!).

After 45 minutes or so of messing with the bobbin and the complicated threading process, I was ready to sew. I put together the hood, sewed it to the cape, and viola! I had my cape. I added a button and a loop to close the cape, and it was ready for beading.

I spent the rest of the time in art class beading that cape. It was an exercise in patience. Bead after bead, I created what came to look a lot like the spotted pattern on the back of a snowy owl. I am thrilled with the results.

And so, here I am. I've taken my first art class in a long time and overcome the fear of creating among other artists. I've tackled my fear of sewing. And I truly know now that I am an artist, and I am ready to own that in a much more profound way.

Shine Your Light

“No one lights a lamp in order to hide it behind the door: the purpose of light is to create more light, to open people’s eyes, to reveal the marvels of the world.” -- Paulo Coelho, from The Witch of Portobello

This is why I've decided to delve back into the art world in a big way. Because I cannot keep my light hidden or obscured any longer. What good does that do? When I squash my light, it festers and creates problems. It doesn't want to be kept away from the world. If I instead allow it that delicious purple light to shine, it inspires others to shine their own special lights, and that creates more and more light!

I remember hearing Maya Angelou speak five years ago in Denver. She sang "This Little Light of Mine" and it was incredibly inspiring. I wanted to stand up, right there, and shout and sing about all the things I wanted to do. I wanted everyone to know! And why was I so inspired? Because there she was, letting her light shine!

What keeps our lights hidden? Criticism, jealousy, people who tell us "art doesn't make money," or "be realistic," or "only truly talented people can do what you want to do." I've decided that's all hooey. I know for sure that if we allow our inner light to shine and we use that light and put it into whatever work we want to do, we can create more than we can even imagine.