The face in my dreams

Yesterday morning I created the UGLIEST goddess -- she even had cellulite. I named her imperfection, loaded her into yesterday's blog, and then just had to pull her off. Too ugly.

Thinking about it later, I decided maybe my goddess period had come to an end (how many times have you heard THIS before?). I mean, now that the weather is warm, there are so many beautiful REAL things to shoot, maybe I don't need to entertain myself by making things up anymore.

So later in the day I sat down to play, and came up with something sort of nebulous -- and clearly NOT a Goddess -- that I liked, and I was planning to leave it at that but then my daughter came in, and in showing her some of my Photoshop tricks my nebulous thing turned in to this.

Maybe you can't see it, but KC and I immediately saw a face with wonderful flowing hair; sort of Native American in character. I love it! My first goddess FACE. (And who knows -- it may be my only goddess face). But there is a benevolence to her, and a sense of acceptance which I was really needing to feel yesterday. And so I share her with you -- because, of course, she is feeling benevolent and accepting about you, too.

So if there's something you're feeling embarrassed or ashamed or awkward or guilty about -- just pass it to her. I have a hunch she'll smile a bit, and bless you all the while. Who knows? Maybe she's another incarnation of Gabby...

When the brain waves slow down

This morning a lot of us were getting this message:

Blogger is unavailable right now. We apologize for this interruption in service. Please visit Blogger Status for additional details.

And many of us were extremely frustrated because for hours Blogger Status didn’t even tell us what was going on – or when we could expect a fix.

Having been married to a computer security analyst for so many years, I don’t feel nearly as angry about receiving this message as the other 500 or so bloggers who were complaining to Google about the interruption in service. Our internet has been flaky for a couple of days now, and I suspect there’s some sort of minor hack happening that’s keeping all of us from sharing our thoughts for the day.

What does intrigue me is the disruption our inability to communicate seemed to be causing – I mean, we could still write our blogs: we could always enter our thoughts into a word document and save it for later publication.

But there’s something about the immediacy of blogging; the sense that what we’re thinking and what we have to say is time-sensitive – and of course important – to someone, at least. But I suspect the real issue is adaptability: I know it is for me. I’m used to sitting down and transcribing whatever’s on my mind after my morning’s reading and meditation, and I’m convinced enough of the synchronicity of things to believe that something that’s on my mind this morning might be on someone else’s mind as well, and there’s a chance that synchronicity will bring someone comfort.

So even though I could see that Blogger was going to be offline for a while, I didn’t just automatically move into Word, say what I needed to say, and go on with my day. Instead of milking the moment for the thoughts and directing them onto a different surface, I got caught trying to make the usual process work, and wasted lots of time looking and poking to see if I could figure out what was happening, and of course checking back to see if I could get through to Blogger. We are creatures of habit – or at least I am -- and slow to set up alternative behaviors if our normal patterns are interrupted.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t change. Because, in fact, we are changing all the time, just as life and circumstances are changing all the time. But the adaptations are never instantaneous -- especially as we grow older. We need time to realize something is different and something needs to shift inside before we can actually go about making the appropriate external adjustments. Once my shift happened, I opened Word and began writing. But of course by then I’d completely lost whatever brilliant thoughts may have been animating me when I started, so I just talked about Blogger and went back to rearranging the kitchen and paying bills. So although I did eventually switch paths, it took so long that the original moment -- and any wisdom it might have contained -- was sort of lost.

Which may be why we thought for so long that “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” It’s not that it’s true, it’s just that it takes patience – and probably more patience the older we dogs get. Eventually the patience runs out, and folks assume it’s just not possible. But we old dogs ARE trainable, really we are – it's just that these days adapting and learning new tricks just takes a little longer.

Those self-defeating voices

Some blog posts just seem to write themselves, but this one is already on its third iteration this morning, and I suspect it's because I don't really want to talk about what it's supposed to be about.

What I knew, when I rose from my meditation period, was that I needed to talk about vulnerability. But when I sat down to write, I went to all kinds of other places -- a classic avoidance mechanism. The problem is just that one thought leads to another, and it's easy to step away from the difficult stuff into story-telling.

But here's what I need to be saying: being an artist is all about being vulnerable. You have to be open enough to allow new possibilities to emerge. You have to be brave enough to try them. And then you have to have the courage of your convictions to show the results.

I don't have too much trouble with the first and second bits of that triad. It's the third that I struggle with, and it's mostly because of the curse of perfectionism.

So I had this wonderful idea: I've been asked to participate in an exhibit on lawn chairs. So I thought I'd turn a photo of a lawn chair into a lawn chair. But the vision I had involved a certain amount of investment, so I acquired a mannequin and an old lawn chair from ebay and purchased a deck chair. I photographed the mannequin on the lawn chair (photoshopping in my neighbor's feet, as the mannequin's feet were damaged) and printed the results as an outdoor waterproof banner, which came back from the printer yesterday.

I then stitched up all the edges of the banner and mounted it on this chair. And I'm pleased with the results. Kind of. The chair isn't exactly what I'd hoped for, though, and now I'm wondering how on earth I can justify charging enough for it to make back my investment. Plus I had originally thought I would create two more prints of the image and weave them into the old lawn chair, but it's so beat up I can't imagine -- even if I can get that to work out right -- that my gallery will be willing to show it; they're very into new and modern, and that would definitely be old and funky...

Can you hear all those self-critical voices?

And, no, I'm not asking you to say, "OMG this is so adorable; you are so creative!" What I'm asking is for ME to say that to MYSELF. And somehow the words are sticking in my throat. And what's up with THAT? There's some serious approach-avoidance sh*t going on here, and I suspect it's the same disabling stuff that keeps me from sending off my novels and books to publishers... It's really fun coming up with and implementing the ideas, but somehow I can't seem to convince myself that anyone would actually want to BUY them.

Oh, well. The good news is that I'm starting school a month from today. And the first two classes I have to take are Coaching and Practitioner Development: which means I'll be spending the next three months exploring psychology and the roots of questions just like these. Perhaps the time has come for a bit of transformation...

With Sophia at the window

At the close of this morning's chapter in Joyce Rupp's The Star in my Heart, there were some exercises entitled "Meeting Sophia." The first exercise intrigued me:

"Quiet your body, mind. Go to the center of your being. Picture an open window. Go and stand there, seeing Sophia standing there with you. Listen to what she speaks to you about your journey of life and the window. Quietly move from the window when you feel that Sophia is finished speaking. Write in your journal what Sophia shared with you. You may also want to write your response to her."

The awkward thing I need to confess is that even though this is my second time through this book, I don't really "get" Sophia; don't really resonate with her. I understand the concept of her as wisdom incarnate, the divine feminine within, but still some part of me doesn't grasp or accept the idea.

But somehow, standing at the window and imagining Sophia beside me... that stayed with me. I didn't do the exercise, but I thought a bit about it while I meditated, and could imagine the comfort I'd feel from Sophia's hand on my back. Which then made me think I wish sometimes I had a mother to talk to. My own mom died over 13 years ago -- and wasn't all that supportive even when she was alive. But I can imagine -- perhaps from my interactions with my own daughters -- standing at a window with a mother figure NOT my mom, whose hand rests comfortingly on my back.

What are we looking at? Why do I need comforting? And why does it feel both sad and peaceful at the same time? I'm not really sure. But somehow, even though I didn't really "go there," I can feel a little leap in my heart -- that leap you get in those moments when you feel really loved and appreciated. And understood.

So I invite you to stand at the window, too, if only for a moment, and feel that comfort and acceptance, the warm hand on your back. Even if it only lasts the duration of a breath... it feels a bit like something is healing.

Blest be the ties that bind

What do you see when you look at this image? Does this goddess look tied down or bound up to you? Or does she look grounded -- maybe even fed -- by her connections to the world around her?

We all have ties -- to family, to church, to work, to community, to the past. Do these ties feed you and keep you grounded? Or do you find yourself straining at the leash? And what about memories -- those thoughts that keep you connected to your past. Do they hold you back? Or do they sustain and fuel you?

I found myself thinking of these questions this morning because I was reading Joyce Rupp's chapter on memories in her book, The Star in my Heart. Gratitude, she says, "is at the core of a healthy spiritual life. It helps me to recognize how cherished I am by God and to live in awareness of the generous daily miracles provided by God.

I cannot be grateful without the gift of memory, without recalling or recognizing the good things of my life. Memory helps me to be aware of my Sophia moments, those times when I have been drawn to deeper truths and wisdoms. Remembering my past blessings helps me to see how deeply involved God is with my life."

Reading this, I realized that we do have this unfortunate tendency to forget the amazing gifts and blessings that have been given to us over the years. And yet the memory of those wonderful moments -- if we can access it -- can sustain us through incredible difficulties.

Yesterday was kind of a crazy day, one of those days with lots of to-dos and last-minute tasks and errands that kept conflicting with each other -- which meant I forgot to do a couple of things, and the blog got sort of tossed aside in the middle of it all. I felt a little guilty for not doing more to honor that wonderful feathery chick that had appeared.

But now I see it was perfectly appropriate to keep it short and sweet, and to honor a particular network of friends whose connections have sustained me over the years. I rarely get to see these women; they're scattered all over the country. And yet we find ourselves in email contact almost daily, and have been sustaining that connection since we first met at a convention back almost 20 years ago. How amazing is that? And what a precious gift to celebrate.

So I hope you'll take some time today to ask yourself what grounds you and feeds you; what connections over the years have sustained you, and have repeatedly led you back into the arms of the Divine. Take a minute to remember, and then find a way to express your gratitude -- and watch how that refreshes your spirit. Whatever life is like right now, there are sure to have been miracles somewhere in your past. And touching into those memories can be a wonderful way to re-energize your soul.

In closing, I can't help but think of that wonderful old hymn; can you hear it?

Blest be the ties that bind
our hearts in Christian love.
The fellowship of kindred minds
is like to that above.

What I didn't remember until I looked it up was the song's third verse:

We share each other's woes,
each other's burdens bear,
And often for each other flows
The sympathizing tear.

So true.

And here's where my sympathy and frustration are flowing today: the oil spill. I can't believe another attempt has failed; this is just horrifying. Here's a link to Jim Wallis's blog entry about that at Sojourners....

In praise of spring chickens

Well, I may not be
a spring chicken anymore,
but this flamboyant creature
sure seems to be one!

Enjoy the colors,
celebrate the sunshine,
and have a fabulous day!

PS: I dedicate this post to my dear friends the Teatimers, spring chickens every one -- especially to Nan, whose spring chicks arrived today; to Carol, who despite today's birthday is still very much a spring chicken; and to Cathy, in hopes the deliberations of the coming weekend will bring desired results -- just keep those red cowboy boots on!

Peach and periwinkle to all y'all!

The new chastity

This one makes me chuckle. I've had my eye on her for a couple of weeks now; she's some sort of electrical junction box and stands on the corner of a street I pass regularly when I'm out running errands. Her two flaps and the lock were just irresistible, so I finally took my camera along a day or two ago to get the shot, though it wasn't until last evening when I saw how demure she seemed to be that I realized the perfect name for her: Chastity.

But to me she doesn't represent Chastity in the old-fashioned don't-lose-your-virginity-till-you-marry sense. I think she's all about becoming -- and remaining -- a whole person.

The goal of growing up, it seems to me, is about building a life that's full and rich, ripening with meaning and purpose. You want that life to be open enough to allow new people into it, but not so full of gaping holes that you become a sort of human vacuum, desperate for someone else to fill the empty spaces you can't even admit are there.

Because then you find yourself working overtime to keep those pieces in your personal puzzle, even when the shape of the hole changes and they no longer fit. And when you get to that point, the constant rubbing of the edges just makes everybody sore.

After I finished that last line, I published this post and ran off to Pilates class. But when I got into the car and punched in the music, what was playing was this, my all time favorite Michael McDonald song, I Can Let Go Now. I've always loved the song, though I could never quite figure out what situation the lyrics were addressing until this morning, when I realized they fit perfectly with the post. So, since I just saw him on the finale of American Idol (what can I say: I love Lee, but I really REALLY wanted Crystal to win) it seemed appropriate to post the lyrics here. The song is truly beautiful; you can listen to a clip here.

It was so right, it was so wrong
Almost at the same time
The pain and ache a heart can take
No one really knows

When the memories cling and keep you there
Till you no longer care
And you can let go now

It's wrong for me to cling to you
Somehow I just needed time
From what was to be-it's not like me
To hold somebody down

Chorus:
But I was tossed high by love
I almost never came down
Only to land here
Where love's no longer found
Where I'm no longer bound
And I can let go now