[Pictured above] The new norm, unfortunately. I sense that this is temporary. This is a past due Wake-Up call and it's needed more than ever right now. And I’m not saying this because I am dismissing the actual hard and painful stuff happening to our fellow humans right now, I am saying this because I’m feeling and experiencing that hard, painful stuff.

I honestly didn't want to add to the overwhelm. Every post out there is demanding the next best ten things you "should" be doing and even all the helpful information suddenly became a burden.  Way too much. For us sensitive, big feelers, and those in soul recovery, you may be feeling overloaded and experiencing energy exhaustion.  Our anxiety is through the roof, our biggest fears come to life. And, many are having to be out in the world, working, exceeding their energy reserves to keep the world turning. Bless them. Bless them. May they be protected, replenished and well. 

I wrote some poetry. With tears and ink. One early morning when all was quiet, except for some bird chatter outside my window. With steaming coffee, seeking solace, I wrote some words.

We stand still.
Time feels different. The air is empty, but soft.
When the realization is that the clocks have not been the observers,
because they've been reciting predictions under a subtle breath.
Everything seems irrelevant, but Life seems crucial,
Almost important enough to be held sacred.
Some just noticing.
Others, ready to create art, new paradigms and brilliant songs of renewal.

We stand still.
We can't see, but we sense the earthquakes in our bodies.
And overflowing channels of worry and anxiety burst like little
volcanoes in our minds.
We pretend.
We keep using sanitizer.
To keep clear all the things we've allowed to happen up until now.
Soiled hands of yesterday's habits.

We stand still.
Because we are too cloudy of information and feel the dizziness
of a life out of control about to swallow us whole.
Pausing only happens to machines, not humans. It is a function
in need of repair. 
All the laundry is hung and we try to read for five minutes before
our attention caves and we reach for the next bit
of distraction, the next spoonful of poison.
Because we find it hard to 
Stand Still.

To be continued. Catch up with me on instagram!

One) Hawk. Always inviting me. Same spot every time. Bidding me a good day of clarity and high vision.

Two) It's not as cold as he said it might be. This sweater us fuzzing up where the most movement happens: under my arms, along the sides of my chest/breasts. But, I love this grungy sweater.

Three) About the sweater. This ragged sweater is a she-shed companion, especially in the winter when the shed is doing it's best to keep out the December chill and my little heater is pumping away. I feel like Mr. Rogers when I change into it before working out in the shed.

Four) This tea, I love it so much. Lavender Earl Grey with a splash of vanilla cream.

Five) I finally light the candle. I ask St. Jude and make a sweet-grass offering.

Six) I miss her. I wish things were different and we were still friends. The kind that would spend hours on the phone or exchange ideas over Skype while sipping on our favorite teas. She was my Best Friend. I think of her often and winter always brings on the bittersweet memories. I will always love her and consider her my soul-kin. I told her I would never give up on her, our friendship. It takes so much out of me to allow the death of our relationship. This will be something I will grieve over from time to time. But, still...Love.

Seven) Hope. All I got right now.

Eight) Not too much incense. I only burn half the stick. 

Nine) Writing. I'm counting on the words to set me free. They always do.

Ten) A birthday reservation at our favorite restaurant. Every year since I met him. 

Eleven) Coyote. Still.

Twelve) She said laughter can lift us out of our darkness.

Thirteen) Grief. Taking it slow for now. I am a soul in recovery...for life. 

​Fourteen) This quote:

I create as a way to navigate my life's journey.  This is my personal and spiritual practice.  In fact, all this other "living business" filters through my creativity.  Each time I find myself at the art-table, I am gazing into a mirror.  I trust it...deeply.  I trust it to show me the way, to reveal the higher road or to knock me down when surrender is a really good option.  

Creating helps me:
reflect, investigate, map, assess, release, reconnect, commune, heal.

Some day soon I hope to share more about my journey as an energy practitioner.  There is a simple explanation as to why I am open to this way of walking in this world; this open communication to these energetic multi-realms.  It was an initiation that didn't look like one and to tell you the truth, there are many that continue to present themselves as doorways in which I must step through.  The simple explanation is: trauma broke me open and the need to survive became my lessons.  I became hypersensitive; a sensing soul to all those subtle energies, that eventually became my guides.  My soul was cast and over the years I've been shamanic-ally pulling back the layers revealing the tightly knitted web that gently houses my essence. It's the part of me, and the part in you that is untouched, sacred, holy, pure, eternal. Art making is a way home to this.  A way back, centered into this realization.

The image below is a captured moment of my creative process.  I call this the crap-painting stage.  I say it with a frustrated tone as well.  I call it this because when I am face-to-face with the things I perceive to be awful, ugly, dark, shadowy (within myself) it manifests onto the canvas.  I am not saying this is "THE" process for everyone, I am just sharing my process here. 

How can I say there are these damaged parts and pieces of myself, you might be thinking.  

And, I'm responding with yes, of course there are these unmet pieces of me, sometimes hidden in the shadows.  

Most of the time, I don't even have a clue what they might be because I'm too busy projecting them.  And, I haven't met anyone who doesn't do this (jus-sayin).  This is just one way to notice them and bring some conscious light to them.  I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing, unless you are not willing to look at your part in it.  Which, again, isn't easy.  I know...I know.

This is a stage in art-making or life-making that is formless, unknown, in between.  It's the grit and grind before the smooth and shine.  This place always feels challenging.  I have no control and I feel so powerless.  I don't know what to make of it.  I'd rather throw it out and start over.  I want to quit and deem myself a sucky-artist.  Never having to take responsibility for my own expansion again.

Ever experience this?

Well, dear tender-heart...please stay with me here, 

What's happening here is: I've forgotten to see the beauty in the cycle or in my creative process.  My vision became blurred by the illusion of perfection, And perfection cuts us from many different angles,  For example: the false illusion to a permanent happiness or worse, a great fear that we won't be accepted, loved or seen.

This is some huge, deep work.  I know this, because this is my current work. But, there is hopeful movement making its way through.  It's all such a journey to be taken in and held with reverence and grace.  Hold that so-called "ugly" art with compassion because it's just the early stages of becoming or emerging.  

​Just like you.