sunday grace: swarm season

swarm season.  acrylic, ink, paper on wood.  april 2018.

there are specific times of the year when bees and birds and butterflies swarm, drawn together in a seemingly chaotic instinct to find their place.  i read an article that described swarms and on that day i felt all my worries, fears, regrets, and shame had similarly swarmed in my body, frantically congregating in crowded quarters beneath my rib cage.

this year i have experienced an unexplained and sudden onset of panic attacks, chronic high anxiety, and insomnia.  during the past month i have essentially been disabled by this, unable to work, drive, be alone, eat, or sleep.  my life was hijacked.  even though my panic mostly feels like an infestation of hungry invaders, i have reframed the urgent fluttering presence in my body as my swarm.

there is no apparent root cause (no situation or event) that we have landed on yet.  could be cumulative stress or secondary traumatic stress, could be hormones, could be sensitivity to the growing collective anxiety in our world, could be genetic, and on and on...

i want to write more on the ways i managed the worst of days when i was overcome with fear and energy, because i know it can be helpful for others to read (especially for those like me who are sensitive to medication and have a desire to go the most natural route possible).  i'm not in that space yet.  i'm still barely hanging on over here, trying to remain an objective observer to this madness and focus on the day when the swarm moves on.

with all dark days, there are moments of light.  even though it has been hard to see and acknowledge, some goodness has come from this.  this is the grace (and quite possibly the purpose) of swarm season:  attention, vulnerability, deciding to do things differently.  here are a few moments of swarm grace:

• i cut out caffeine and it was relatively painless.  all the cortisol and adrenaline cursing through my veins cushioned the typical withdrawal symptoms.  after decades of two cups of strong coffee daily, i am now enjoying one cup of swiss water processed decaf every morning.
• i asked for help.  and not just for help, i asked for exactly what i needed.  and you know what?  people responded in the most loving and supportive ways. 
• i finally got it that i really do need other people.  
• i cleaned up my nutrition. 
• the breath is fucking magic.  magic.
• i have an entirely new appreciation for the exquisite beauty of an ordinary day, a night of sleep, someone who holds your hand, people who know things, people who are able to hold space.

here's looking forward to the day the swarm has done its thing and lifts in gentle flight.

the winter of slow liberation

buried, 36"x36", mixed media on wood, by lisa parks

i started this post with the intention to check in.  because this entire winter has felt a lot like checking out.

i'm still working on my 500-hr yoga teacher training, still working on soul studio curriculum, still painting, still puttering around my house, creating and dismantling tiny altars here and there.  tiny altars for rest, for protection, for healing, for the right words, for courage, for liberation.  still sitting before those tiny altars, face dimly lit by the little flames, staring at the gathered goddesses and creatures, willing x-ray vision to animate their myths so that they inform my own story or so i can recognize my human self in them, heart slowly blooming with insight and inspiration and ideas.

still softening and opening to what my role is in this brand new world.  liberating all the seeds that were buried.

.  .  .  .  .

in other news, artist liz kalloch's tools and talismans series is featured in issue no.4 of amy butler's blossom magazine.  the entire issue is stunning.  my own tools and talismans, beautifully rendered by liz, are shown on pages 150-151.  see the entire issue here.

living poetry

for several years now in late december or early january, i choose one word to guide my being through the new year (click here and scroll down to see previous years' words). this practice has really helped me refine my dreams and intentions. i love to look back during this week between christmas and new years day and see how the soul of the word manifested throughout my life and year.

for the past week or so i've been thinking about which word i want to choose for 2016.  i chose an intention word for my upcoming yoga teacher training (trust), but that felt very focused on my yoga goals as compared to my whole life.  so i kept searching.

one of the things i like to do to help narrow it down is look and listen for a word that is in heavy rotation in my current vocabulary and conversations.  there are a few right now:  wonder, precision, frontier, practice, poetry...

poetry was the word that kept lighting up in neon when it fluttered through my brain or escaped my lips.  still, it felt quite mysterious and undefined to be a guiding word (unless i was to become a full time poet).  then i ran across this string of words by poet and mystic rumi, let yourself become living poetry.

so it shall be words of the year for me.

for me, living poetry is:

• having a structure, the components and some guidelines for how to lay life out on the page...inspiration, imagination, rhythm, precision, choice, selection, refinement, commitment
• being able to throw all of that out the window and just live from my soul in the messy moment
• seeing beauty in the ordinary
• seeing opportunity for exploration and empathy in the un-beautiful
• using words in provocative and inquiring ways to open understanding and connection
• storytelling embodied in words, paint, dance, work, image, play, clothing, food, yoga, home, relationship
• truth, spoken plainly and kindly
• reading more poetry, discovering new poets, writing more
• staying open to the twist, to changing beat, to unfinished words put aside to rest, to acceptance, to rejection, to editing, to uncrumpling those pages littering the floor and having another look
• exploring the human heart and how it shows up in the world at any given moment

a happy, poetic year to you loves.

sunday grace: muse

"i am my own muse. i am the subject i know best. the subject i want to know better."

-frida kahlo

sunday grace: finding the things that save you

i'm constantly telling my students (who are front-line child abuse responders) that in order to survive in their careers and maintain integrity, compassion and energy for the work, they have to discover, mindfully practice and enjoy the things that save them in "real" life.  i practice what i preach.  for me, the short list includes art, yoga, flowers, cooking, dogs, the forest and learning something new.

i was lucky to combine three of these things...art, dogs and learning something new...on saturday at beautiful TOOLRY, a creative workspace downtown.  (see more TOOLRY here and here and here.)  i participated in a charcoal drawing class led by artist laura pharis.

the workshop was a bit outside my comfort zone.  i have not worked with charcoal before and my creative preferences lean toward using color in bold and abstract and messy ways.  drawing exact and realistic details in black is not something i would intuitively move toward.  but i know that learning new techniques is one of the ways to be a fuller artist.

(also saving me:  a box full of new art stuffs.)

we started with exploring the structure of the figure by drawing a skeleton and understanding the armature of the human shape.  i'm kind of loving the bones right now and can't wait to integrate them into my mixed media pieces.

puppy breaks are very helpful when you are learning something new.  this is emma.  she is the newest member of the TOOLRY family.

after a few hours of the foundations of using charcoal and drawing the human form, we were ready to move into gesture drawing and figure drawing with our model, the lovely sarah.

oh this empty white space.  i'll be honest, i was a bit tentative here.

starting with scribbling and practice and erasing always helps.  once the blank page is marked (with charcoal or paint or the first few words) it becomes much less intimidating.

after a series of two-minute gesture drawings, it was time for another puppy break.

in the first few stages of the live drawing, i fell in love with this abstract, picasso-esque sarah and the ghosts on the page.  i was tempted to stay here, but i came to learn and practice a specific skill, so i moved forward into a more realistic version.

i'm pretty happy with the final version.  but the experiences of the day were the real sources of happiness here: play, exploration, courage, kindness and creativity.  these are the things that saved me.

what is saving you this weekend?

a week of color and making and goodness

oh loves, spring has finally arrived in all her glory in virginia.  this week has been full of so much beauty and color, i can barely stand it.  i hope you are seeing and living the same.

this week:

i rescued these fallen camillas on a walk in my neighborhood.

while the forest outside is still lingering in its winter bed (the big trees don't really explode with spring for another few weeks), the kitchen window is all about spring and sunshine.

the cherry blossoms.  they kill me.

ditto, the lilacs.

downtown loveburg is plastered with local art.

cyndi's studio is opening this week!  she is the calm in the midst of the storm pre-opening.  yoga goodness is such a beautiful space with amazing teachers.  i'm honored to have my photographs grace the website.  it was so inspirational to capture the beauty and grace and strength of some of cyndi's students.

more yoga goodness.  when we arrived in loveburg fourteen years ago, there was no yoga other than the kind you did by yourself at home.  today there are so many beautiful yoga studios and teachers to choose from.  such abundance!

i was feeling blue on saturday and ken said, "let's go to the art store."  i love him.

this paintbrush is like gold.  i was curious about its $405 price and tried to convince inez at the shop to break out some paints so we could see what it could do.

i had to be satisfied with my $10 brushes at home.

for easter brunch i made two dishes for the first time that were amazingly beautiful.  persian jeweled rice is saffron basmati rice with apricots, bayberries, pistachios, almonds, pomegranates and mint.

these easter egg radishes were roasted with brown butter and pink salt.  is there a more appropriate easter side-dish?  i don't think so.

like everyone else, i have spring cleaning and organization fever.  i gypsyhillified my ikea flat file chest for the art studio.  it will give all those thousands of bits of collected ephemera and papers a lovely home.  and the giant buddha head planter on top will hold rolled paper.

spring is off to a lush start on gypsy hill.

around here

class cancellations due to snow left happy me with lots of time to create.  i am trying to avoid new art supply purchases until i use the things i have, like these caran d'ache colors.

something came over me and i painted with white, yellow and orange; rare choices for me.

is rumi like the sexiest 16th century man ever?

i'm optimistic about color and other things this spring.

i've wanted to cook with matcha for a long time, so i made some green tea and almond muffins.

the verdict:  they tasted yummy, but i wanted way more of that green matcha color for the (very high) price of the tea.  i'll try ice cream in a few weeks and use more than the recipe calls for to see if i can get that amazing spring green.

we started spring cleaning and organizing.  our local health food store has majorly upgraded their bulk spices, herbs and dry pantry staples.  i'm finally putting to good use all those jars i've hoarded away like a crazy grandma.  

i finished this piece last week and i am so in love with it.

i'm daydreaming of herbs and succulents on the sill and a meadow of wildflowers on that facing slope.  

another hoarding endeavor that is paying off:  mismatched carnival glass.  i'm thinking about a midsummer party...

these guys.

another thing i've wanted to cook:  lotus root.  i made this soup with lotus root, carrots, purple sweet potatoes, spring onions and asparagus.  the lotus roots are pretty and have an odd taste. the rest of the soup just tastes like spring.

sunday grace

these last few weeks i'm feeling seriously out of my groove:  slow, annoyed, achy, reclusive, uncertain.  when i experience funks like this, i tend to (conveniently) blame karma.  i'm just paying a karmic debt and it will cycle through, back to normal, right?

pema chödrön urges us to look at karma differently, from a less passive position, one that requires us to pay attention, listen, learn, open and grow:

"the idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings you need to open your heart.  to the degree that you didn't understand in the past how to stop protecting your soft spot, how to stop armoring your heart, you're given this gift of teachings in the form of your life, to give you everything you need to open further."

that damn soft spot.  it's going to be the death life of me.

the colors of winter

are the colors of writing, resting, nourishing, adventuring, reading, painting and healing.