Things that are helping

Making art for Soul Restoration that reclaims and celebrates the various parts of myself: whole, broken, kind, unkind, strong, and weak.

Going to my day job, putting my head down, and getting some good work done.

A deep and earnest conversation with my husband, who sat and held my hand and helped me unravel the last few knots in my heart.

Receiving this from SARK: Part of being your human genius self is to learn to live more in the "marvelous messy middle" with all of your feelings and handle them skilfully and with great love. So how do we do this? By feeling what we feel and moving on.

Treating myself to some extraordinary Japanese masking tape.

Acknowledging that I'm just in a foul mood today and feel physically out-of-sorts... and just sort of going with it.

A wonderful conversation with my dear sister, who'd called out of concern that I had been discouraged by our Mum, and totally "got it".

My sweet husband taking over amusing our little 'un as I reached the end of my tether, and making us an exquisite salad of lentils, asparagus, squash, Reggiano and rocket for lunch.

Listening to Holly Miranda's beautiful album.

Making plans for long overdue catch ups with friends.

Writing this to Liz and seeing that this is where the truth is:

Thank you so much for holding a place for me in the Your Story Be Present retreat. I can't tell you how much your kindness and support has meant to me.

Sadly, after much excitement, confusion, fear, and bravery I have to accept that I won't be able to attend. In the final analysis, my husband isn't comfortable with me being away from him and my little girl for a week. And I just can't find it in my heart to attend despite these circumstances.

When the eventuality that I couldn't attend first hit me, I was absolutely devastated. For one thing, the location and the content really spoke to me. And, as I mentioned, the chance to meet you in person was also so delicious and inviting. The timing was also perfect, as I honestly felt my toddler was old enough to cope without me and, for the first time in a long time, I had the finances and the time to attend (which can be considerable impediments, living all the way on the other side of the world!).

But, really, the most poignant thing for me was that this was the first time ever I thought "Yes! I really could attend that!" because it was the first time I felt that I was worthy of attending, that my art and writing were worth putting first, and that they could hold their own in such stellar company.

I am working hard on owning the decision not to attend, though I know I will always be sad that I didn't. I think I also would have brought something unique to the experience, although I am glad that someone just as worthy and wonderful will be able to attend in my place and make the most of everything the Your Story experience has to offer.

And maybe there's comfort in the realisation that I am growing into a place where I am prepared to declare that my true life's work -- and I -- am worthy of this sort of community and experience.

Sorting the wheat from the chaff

A friend is one to whom you can pour out all the contents of your heart, wheat and chaff together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will sift out what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

Arab proverb

I am so grateful for being truly seen and heard at this juncture in my life. In some ways it feels like a storm in a tea cup, in others it feels like a pivotal moment. So may things have crammed into my heart and attached themselves to this decision, that it has been really hard to sort the wheat from the chaff and see what the decision itself really is.

I feel I have so many people to thank. You are all such beautiful, generous, and talented women in your own right and I feel so restored to be surrounded by a community who didn't for one second question my wanting to go to this thing. You all just got it.

Thank you Yvette, for communing with me in that space where we are alone in believing our truths.

Thank you Lee, for your gentle words and prayers.

Thank you Krissie, for sharing this perfectly-timed tweet from SARK: Dreams are resilient. You might crumble, struggle, fight, give up, or feel crushed. Your creative dreams are untouched by all of this.

Thank you Monica, for reminding me that the reasons "against" are actually the most compelling reasons "for", and that I deserve this gift to myself.

Thank you Jen, for celebrating all of the work that I have done and all that I am about to do, and for sharing your own journey with me.

Thank you Jennnifer, for holding up that mirror and showing me that this indeed something that I would want my daughter to feel empowered enough to choose, and that the only way that this will ever happen is if I love my self enough to choose it myself.

And thank you Cathy, for showing me that it is possible to push through the barriers to this sort of journey, and for reframing indulgence in such a powerful and poignant way.

I want to thank my husband for showing me that although he doesn't understand every aspect of my longing to attend this particular retreat, that he loves me and really wants me to be happy. My sweet man doesn't read my blog, out of respect for me and this space, but on Tuesday afternoon -- "under the circumstances" -- he read my post to try and understand how I was feeling. He then spent the rest of his afternoon at work looking at the Your Story site, then googling art retreats to see if he could find something similar held in Australia. When he came home, he sat with me and held my hand and explained how he felt he'd stumbled into a conversation that had been going on for a long time in my head, with my family, with my past. He patiently asked me again what it was about this particular retreat that captured me, then sat patiently as we extracted each issue, one by one, sorting the wheat from the chaff. He helped me to see that not going to Oregon may be due to unfortunate logistical limitations, rather than a sign that my family are unsupportive, that my art and writing are worthless, or that I'm not worthy of my dreams.

He also gently noted that I had a tendency to knock myself just when things were going well, and described my sadness and fear as "valid human feelings".

At that point, I saw myself not very far from where I'd started: a very good place indeed. A place where I was seeing the benefits of my work with the psychologist, where I was loving the creative blaze sparked by Soul Restoration, and where I was carving out time for myself and the things I love most.

In some ways, I don't feel as if I've made a "final" decision. If I'm going to be truthful, I feel like I am waiting for some kind of miracle. But, whichever way it goes, I know I am going to be OK.

And I have the feeling that the next step in the process of being OK may to work on developing gratitude towards my dear M for showing me that I still have a way to go when it comes to protecting my weak spots and truly believing in my talents, my dreams, and my right to happiness.

What was I thinking?

This arrived last night:

Hopefully we can have a chat tomorrow about your proposed retreat trip to the US. I don't have a problem looking after Isabella but I am really concerned about how she would cope without you away for a week or more. She is so young. Is there not something similar you can attend in Melbourne and come home at night? Just a thought, I googled the Be Present thing, I don't really understand much about it, but it seems a long way to travel to attend and a bit of an indulgence. Anyway that is my opinion for what is worth.
 Love,
 M xxxxxxxx

And my heart sank to the floor.

I don't know how to describe the hours that followed. Even now I'm struggling to make sense of how I'm feeling and why. My husband was completely bamboozled as he sat with me and held me through the pain. He said, "I feel I'm in the middle of something I don't understand."

How could I capture the gorgeous momentum I've been riding the past few weeks? How could I quantify the feeling that my writing, art-making, journalling were really coming together? How could I qualify the sense that the work I'm doing with my psychologist and the Soul Restoration projects were giving me permission to make things I was really proud of, and feel more alive and more ME than I had in ages? How could I explain the way in which the Your Story retreat in Oregon arrived at a time when I couldn't help but think it was significant, and that it had evolved into the ultimate symbol of giving myself space, putting my needs first?

I tried to do all this, but I'm not sure it made sense. In the final analysis, two facts remained:

1) A week was a long time to be away from a two year old who had never not had her Mummy there.

2) There was no "good" reason to attend this retreat, other than I really wanted to.

Oh, and 3) I was clearly devastated that I couldn't go.

And the latter really made me question everything. What was it about the "indulgence" suggestion that really pushed my buttons? Why was I suddenly compelled to rubbish everything I had been working so hard on and that had meant so much to me, telling my husband that most of what I write on my blog is crap, that my art is pathetic, that all of this "space for yourself" stuff is bullshit anyway? And that it wasn't important so I was the world's biggest idiot for caring so much?

Why did I suddenly feel like it had all been taken away from me? That I was clearly not the person I thought I was or wanted to become?

The pendant above arrived this morning, accompanied by a sweet message. I don't know what to make of either anymore.

All I know is that the space where my heart was now aches with emptiness.

More compelling reasons

1. Oregon is, indeed, a beautiful place and one I’d love to visit.

2. I’m dying to go to Portland.

3. It will be the end of Spring, beginning of Summer.

4. I’ll be on my own.

5. Everyone I meet will be a new friend.

6. I’ll get to connect with the marvellous Liz Lamoreux in person.

7. I’ll get to meet and learn from the inimitable Ali Edwards.

8. I’ll also be mentored by the beautiful Kelly Barton and the super-smart Meredith Winn.

9. My art and writing are really on a roll at the moment, and this experience will take it to a whole new level.

10. I’ll learn new photography techniques. And I’ll have blog material for weeks afterwards!

11. I can fill up my suitcase with chocolate covered pretzels and mint mojito gum and treats from Anthropologie and Trader Joe’s and Sephora.

12. It’ll be great incentive to pull my belt in and save for something special (rather than buy books and artsy embellishments like a girl obsessed).

13. If past travel experiences are anything to go by (I’m thinking about my work trip to Chicago for the NACADA Conference in 2008 when I was five months pregnant), I’ll probably be too excited to sleep the entire week I’m away!

14. I’ll be able to sleep, read, write, eat and watch movies UNINTERRUPTED the entire plan trip. Oh. My. God.

15. My babysitting plans are coming together. Mum said yes to changing her usual babysitting day plus taking on one extra day, and my sister kindly agreed to take a day off work to babysit. Next stop: mother-in-law.

16. It shouldn’t be a problem to take time off work.

17. The exchange rate is still pretty good!

18. I’ll be able to call and SMS my sweet husband and my beautiful little ‘un every day.

19. I’ll be dying to get home to my beloved little family.

20. This will be the first time since my little ‘un arrived – actually longer – that I have done anything that’s for me and me alone.

20. This will be the first time ever that I am putting my art and my writing (and photography and adventures) first.

21. Places haven’t sold out (I checked with Liz this morning) though they are selling fast.

Some things that are holding me back...

1. I am afraid that my husband will be hurt that I am choosing to spend time away from him and sad that I am choosing to take a holiday alone.

2. I am also a little nervous about making this commitment to myself. Only a little. But it’s there nonetheless.

This is a whole new world for me.

The heavy artillery

A funny thing happened last night and I think it revealed just how beneficial therapy and Soul Restoration have been for me, and how far I had come.

I was sitting at my desk, gluing the final touches on the timeline of my life and a strong voice in my head said, "We didn't put you through all those years of education so you could do this.”

This being: cutting out little pieces of paper and gluing them onto card that no one else would see. This being: selecting sweet embellishments to make my words into treasures that would make my heart sing every time I saw them. This being: splashing around with paint and making self-indulgent art that would never amount to anything.

The voice was my Dad’s. And I could see him and my Mum, sitting on their couch at home. Giving me “the talk”.

The only thing was: I don’t think this is something that they would do. Sure, I was on the receiving end of “the talk” a few times when I was much much younger. One conversation in particular resurfaced last night that I had forgotten about. It changed the course of my life entirely (or, perhaps more accurately, prevented a change of course entirely). It all worked out for the best and I can’t say I feel any bitterness about it.

I think my parents and I would all agree that I don’t really have anything else to prove. I completed all my education, with flying colours, got a Doctorate: there’s no further to go. I am at the top of the tree in terms of my career in university administration, as high as I’ll ever get unless I want to become a GM (which I don’t and no-one in my life would encourage). I’m married to my soulmate, have my own home, am financially secure. And, of course, have produced a beautiful, healthy, clever grandchild who is the apple of everyone’s eye.

Forgive me if it sounds like I’m defensive or boasting. I’m just trying to understand where that voice came from. Because it didn’t upset me. It couldn’t. I just can’t see how there’s anything “more useful” that I should be doing. I am making myself happy, in a way that ticking all those boxes didn’t.

And although I fear that makes me sound ungrateful for all I have, I would like to think that this journey is all about bringing myself to a place where I can celebrate exactly that. And, in doing so, I would like to think I am making everyone around me happy too.

Last night, listening to that voice, I suddenly realised that I’m getting close. All I could think, in a bemused sort of way, was, “I must be getting close to doing something that I really want to do. Something that I love.”

Because this is pulling out the heavy artillery.

Reasons

Reasons why I can't go to the Your Story Be Present Retreat in Oregon this June:

1. I would miss my little 'un, and feel bad for leaving her for a whole week.

2. It would inconvenience a lot of people, particularly where extra babysitting duties are concerned.

3. It would require a lot of forethought, planning and organisation.

4. The total cost, including an airfare from Australia, would be disproportionately high (and the exchange rate might no longer be in my favour by then).

5. It's a long way to go for a couple of days.

6. By the time I get everyone on board with the idea, places will have all booked up anyway.

7. My plane might crash. Or I might miss my connection at LAX. And I hate LAX.

8. It's not like my art or writing are all that important.

9. It would be a highly selfish, indulgent thing to do.

10. I am not worthy of this sort of opportunity.

Reasons why I should go:

1. It would make my soul sing.

Floored

I have always thought

that I was one of the few

lucky ones in life.

So the process of

mapping everything out, then

seeing nothing but

sadness, rejection,

intense loneliness, at first

took me by surprise.

Then it totally

floored me. I understand that

this is all about

reclaiming my life

and seeing all the gifts but

it's not that easy.

I am trusting in

the art to bring me back to

the best of myself.

This timeline is not

finished: I can reframe it

however I like.

The blank canvas

Riding on the wave of my Soul Restoration epiphany, I reopened my old collage scrappy book, dug out some old unfinished canvases I'd buried for want of better solution, gessoed some new sheets of canvas for another project and prepared to launch into a frenzy of artmaking.

And then...

skidded

to

a

halt.

Those old canvases, the new project, the blank scrap book pages are all just sitting there, waiting for my next move.

The trouble is, I have no idea what to do next, and I also suddenly have a lot less energy and enthusiasm than I did a few days ago.

Does anyone else experience this, in their chosen creative medium? Is it the sudden absence of structure/direction that a course can provide through prompts and projects? Or lack of looming deadline (real or imagined)? Is it fear of the blank canvas? Or fear of lack of ideas? Paralysis from the pressure to make something profound/beautiful/meaningful?

Funnily enough, this sudden and unexpected feeling of burnout yesterday was followed by the longest and deepest night's sleep I have had in ages.

Did I mention that I have hardly slept a wink for the past three weeks? Something to do with all this hope and optimism being pumped out of my heart after such a, long stagnation, I suspect. I'm usually a nine-hour-a-night, sleep-like-a-log kinda girl but my usual deep slumber has eluded me since just before Christmas. I'm sure it was no coincidence that this was the time that the process of therapy uncovered, then cracked, a tough little nut of sadness I'd been protecting for many years. Since which time, all sorts of things have started to move, things ticked off lists, boundaries being built, decisions being made.

All things being equal, I should be absolutely shattered by the amount of sleep I'm getting. But, in fact, I feel fine. Better than fine.

Even with artist's block.

This too shall pass, right?

Mr Egg bears witness

What is happening

Originally, when I enrolled in Soul Restoration, I was looking to have a bit of fun, learn some new techniques, and make some whimsical pretty art. I already had most of the supplies required, so signed up and counted down the days until the course started.

Then the official kit arrived and I groaned: "Scrapbooking?".

Now, I've got nothing but respect for scrapbookers and a lot of the art I have made borrows heavily from traditional scrapbooking techniques. But somehow I have this stereotype of what a scrapbooker is... and it isn't me.

Then I got access to the course curriculum. The biggest initial hurdle was getting access to the secure PDFs. I know copyright is a huge issue with online courses, with people sharing passwords, forwarding on materials, claiming ideas and techniques as their own. But this was the scrapbook equivalent of Fort Knox.

I started to read the initial assignments and groaned even louder. Looking deep deep within? Cataloguing the lies I had come to believe about myself? Setting boundaries? Creating space for me? Trusting my own wisdom? Honouring my choices? I was already doing all this in therapy, and stewing in my "stuff" in my spare time was not exactly my idea of fun.

Then there was the sheer scale of what was being asked. At least two assignments, a whole heap of journalling, some major major soul searching, making truth cards... and that was just week one! The support and resources were really extensive and helpful -- particularly the technique videos -- but even the number and range of those seemed quite daunting. I really did wonder how people with little to no artmaking experience were going to find the tasks, especially seeing as the art produced by the hosts and participants was so pretty and polished.

But then I started. Just a simple statement, glued onto the front of my collage book with gel medium. A couple of embellishments were added. Then I dug out a butterfly-shaped paper punch. Then I tapped out a few words on my old typewriter. Then hunted down a few more embellishments. Printed out some pictures. Cut them out. Then sploshed a bit more gel medium over everything. Typed up some more words. Rubber stamped images of butterflies and birds nests and postage stamps and whatever else on top of things. Made messes with paint and ruined pictures in the process then covered the mess with old dressmaker's patterns. Used rub-on lettering left, right, and centre. Made a special trip into the city to stock up on more stamps, stickers, stencils, ribbons, sparkly paper pockets... frankly, anything scrapbooky I could get my hands on!

And here's the thing. I'm still not sure I'm much of a scrapbooker. And I'm likely not much of a contributor to the whole Soul Restoration experience. I haven't got stuck into the forums, Q&As, or posting my work. I've got so much out of being an active online participant in the past, especially in Mondo Beyondo, which brought so many special and significant people into my life. But something tells me to keep this one close to home.

This one is for me.

And not just because I'm fast becoming a closet scrapbooker! Or because I've been spending every nap time and evening playing with glue and paper cut-outs and my typewriter and stamps and stickers and stuff that would make any eight year old's heart sing. Or because I am increasingly proud of, and delighted with, the art that I am making, even if it's not always pretty and by no means perfect. Or because, for the first time in a long time, I am prioritising art making over writing, reading, blogging, and resting. Because I definitely can't do it all in the limited time I have to myself.

I think it's because it is all so meaningful and relevant to ME. In the process of watching and learning and and writing and playing, I am seeing a space for me emerge... and grow.

And although the choice between glittery butterfly stickers and bird's nest stamps mightn't seem all that profound on the surface, I'm starting to see how this is one of the most powerful ways to bear out core claim of the curriculum: that women need space for themselves in their souls, and they need to have faith in their deepest truths. This safe little space allows me to see in a tangible way that I really can make beauty: without judgement, allowing the process to lead the way, and trusting my choices.

This evening I went up to where my husband was sitting, put my hands on his shoulders and said, "Life is good".

I am starting to see the possibility of a life filled with great beauty of my own making.

Touché

If you can't stand the heat

Judy Horacek

Respite

New bed, crisp clean sheets
Respite from humidity
Headache receding

Overwhelmed

* by the content and pace of the Soul Restoration curriculum.

* by the constant rain and humidity.

* by how badly written this book is, disappointing given the breathtaking literary and artistic talents of its subject.

* by the headache I haven't been able to shake for almost two weeks, keeping me prisoner of my thumping skull.

* by the relentless cries of "Mummy!" and "NO! I don't like that!" following me wherever I go, whatever I do.

* by meditations on loneliness.

* by limitations on any time to myself: I actually cried today when my little 'un woke up after a one hour nap, as I was expecting her to go for two (as usual). I suspect the garbage trucks woke her up, I knew it wasn't her fault and I tried so hard not to take it out on her.

* by feelings of shame for not wanting to play with my daughter.

* by the various things I have on the boil in my day job... nothing out of the ordinary but I am beginning to doubt my ability in the midst of all of the above.

Grateful

* for my little 'un's singing, even if it is Row, Row, Row Your Boat, The Wheels on the Bus, and Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses on extremely high rotation.

* for the gorgeous new bathers my Mum made me from Maglia fabric she's been hoarding since my sister was born (think late 1970s).

* for considerate service providers, especially delivery people.

* that all my friends' families who live in Queensland are safe.

* for Goddess Leonie's deep wisdom and generosity, which has really been speaking to me of late.

* for my husband's delicious cooking.

* for the creative energy I'm experiencing in abundance right now: persisting with the One Little Word project for January in my own way; easing in to Soul Restoration; a writing project progressing in a slow but satisfying way; enrolling in a fantastic course to progress my book manuscript; discovering a lovely opportunity to make some art and have it circulated broadly; preparing some haiku to submit to a competition.

* for positive responses to difficult requests.

* for occasionally feeling proud of myself.

* for pomegranates growing in gardens around my neighbourhood.

Glowing

Your skin is glowing

she said, that happens when you

feel good deep within.

Gorgeousness this weekend...

* discovering the first scrapbook I used to experiment with mixed media art and surprising myself with the tenderness and delight I felt, looking at pages that used to embarrass and disappoint.

* opening drapes and windows and doors to allow the cool change to infuse the house.

* reading lots of books with my little 'un.

* having a chuckle of self-recognition reading Christian Lander's new book (did you know that I live in the "whitest" suburb in Australia? And I shop at an artisanal bakery with my blonde bambino in tow! Too funny!).

* sticking to my no sugar policy, despite my husband baking a delicious chelsea bun.

* catching up and getting ahead on errands.

* spotting an outdoor setting in the magazine that accompanies the Saturday papers, then going out and buying it... a wedding present from my Mum and Dad, better three years late than never. Sigh!

* Mum helping me sell my old fridge and washing machine.

* remaining calm in the face of a screaming toddler and an irritated husband... mostly.

* loving this extraordinary gift.

* the prospect of catching up with my bff this afternoon.

A little ritual for letting go

Wrote out all the things

I felt were holding me back

and keeping me small.

Chose to release them

with air and fire and incense

(gift from Mum from Greece).

My patron saint bore

witness to this ritual

purification.

Deep-seated, long-held

mythologies about my

self proved hard to burn.

Doused for good measure

and buried in the back yard.

A yogi stands guard.

Not sure that I feel

different or lighter but it

sure was fun to do.

With thanks to Jen Lemen for the inspiration.

My corner

I once came across the following quote from American Writer Gail Collins: The centre of our story is the tension between yearning to create a home and the urge to get out of it.

I've been watching myself sit with my little 'un today, placidly witnessing the dialogue that bounces back and forward in my head like a steady, insidious tennis match.

On the one hand, I see a woman exhausted by the constant demands of motherhood and partnerhood, enervated by the relentless drive to improve herself. I see her wanting to honour her needs, make space to nourish her soul, take time to heal her physical self. I feel her need to read, to write, to explore, to create, to think. I hear her consider her therapist's conjecture that perhaps all her little 'un needs is to be seen.

On the other hand, I see a mother who wonders if she can still be labelled "new" as her daughter is approaching two, who looks back on the past year, month, day, hour, moment and can't seem to stop finding new things to question. I feel her doubt, her fear that she is not enough and that she should be doing more to nurture the little soul who has been entrusted to her. I hear her guilt that by wanting more from her life that she is somehow cheating her daughter of her real presence, and ingraining in that sweet little soul that she is not enough.

For the first time, these opponents are more evenly matched. And for this reason, I feel slightly more able to forgive the game.

The magnificent Liz Lamoreux has begun a series that explores what it is to fully inhabit our own "corner". In her first video, she entreated us to focus on and invest in our own corner and forgive ourselves for coveting other people's. In her most recent, she is challenging us to find beauty in the things that we try to hide, ignore, or forget.

Nourished by her words, I am going to log off now. I am going to step outside my back door while my little girl naps and I am going to look up at the cloudy sky. And I'm going to let those voices in my head run their course, let them be heard. And maybe I'll cry a bit. And then I'll sigh a deep sigh and accept the tension (likely wishing I knew the first thing about yoga, as I suspect a luxurious stretch might be in order).

When I come back inside, I doubt I'll be any better at resisting comparison with the parenting choices of other women my age. I certainly won't have found the answer, won't have placed any bets in favour of one side winning the match.

But I might feel marginally more love for the murkiness in my little corner. And I might start to see the possibility of creating more space in it. And maybe, just maybe, I may see some beautiful words (the seeds of which were planted over a year ago) start to germinate into something unique, something that only I could offer the world.

And that will be enough.

Not yet done

Most of what we inherit is so clearly correct it goes unseen. It fits the world seamlessly. It is the world. But despite its richness and variability, the well-defined world we inherit doesn't quite fit each one of us, individually. Most of us spend most of our time in other people's worlds -- working at predetermined jobs, relaxing to pre-packaged entertainment -- and no matter how benign this ready-made world may be, there will always be times when something is missing or doesn't quite ring true.

And so you make your place in the world by making part of it -- by contributing some new part to the set. And surely one of the more astonishing rewards of artmaking comes when people make time to visit the world you have created. Some, indeed, may even purchase a piece of your world to carry back and adopt as their own. Each new piece of your art enlarges our reality. The world is not yet done.

David Bayles and Ted Orland

Art & Fear

[Substitute "artmaking" for writing or knitting or baking or singing or dreaming or loving your children or running or blogging or whatever it is that you do...]

Savouring

Watermelon socks

Whir of the washing machine

Smoke-dusted almonds

Easing in

French Earl Grey in pot

courtesy of Rex Hotel.

Sun streams through window.

Still no sweet treats or

alcohol. New bed, pillows,

purchased this morning.

Printing out pages

for One Little Word project.

New year easing in.

After deep sadness,

fog is lifting from my heart.

That's enough for now.

New year, gentle beginnings

Sweet breeze through my house

brings the smell of lilies and

gentle beginnings.