Stencils

I have taken to using stencils lately. I just paint through the spaces and magically, letters emerge. I am sure this says so much about where I am with things in my life. Trying to somehow understand the space that I have to work with. Knowing the boundaries that are set up by our society and those I put up for myself. There is a purpose for outlines and edges, they help us maintain our sense of control and sanity. We do, however, have the ability to create new spaces and play with the colors.

Lately, I have been in browns and reds. The seasons are changing and things are falling. When things fall, I can only assume that others rise. I am rising as a budding writer. I have to believe that. I am tripping and slipping, but I keep trying to find my footing in this new forest. The woods around me are dark. There is a different kind of air. I am breathing deeply and hoping that there is magic to be found there.

Practice Patience

Self Portrait 10/18/06

This weekend was filled with waiting, some of which was with friends and in other moments, I was alone. It is possible that there is no meaning to it at all. But, being the meaning metaphor seeker that I am, I couldn't help but think about the message from the universe. I am definitely living a life of beauty and blessing. However, there are certain elements that I am waiting for. This patience thing is really hard. Harder than I would have expected. Mostly because I am constantly struggling with feeling like I shouldn't want anything and that I need to appreciate each moment of the process.

Two varying scenarios happened over the past few days- one in which I waited and was rewarded. The other, I became very impatient and left the situation, proving frustration and empowerment. So, which is it? Should I wait patiently and hope that good things will come, and taste even sweeter? Should I take action to create new paths in order to feel some semblance of control?

The thing here is the practicing piece. Either way, the reality is that I just need to practice living with waiting. Living in the state of unknown and fear. Today, I am calling upon my huge chunk of faith to pull me through this waiting, to help me practice patience gracefully.

Cosmic Toilet Paper

Tell me this isn't the most perfect horoscope! I couldn't believe it myself. I am going to save this and apply it to any crappy week or time period. I saw this in the SF Guardian. It fits so well, like a crazy jagged puzzle piece.

Some days I feel like I sit on the "throne of insecurity." The trick is to sit up straight and to be confident, even in my insecurity. As the week ends, my posture is stronger and my heart is recommitted to my queendom.

Sundrops

It's funny how we can feel raindrops on our cheeks, but not sundrops. It is hard to concretely feel the sunshine sometimes. I want to let it soak in, to feel it in my veins. It's not that easy though. How do we let in the joy? I have been thinking so much about joy and pain lately. I have this myth in my head that if we experience pain, then we should experience the same amount of joy. I am beginning to realize that it may not be true. If it isn't true, how do I justify the pain? I know that we can never see the whole picture- who knows what our lives will bring? Yet, I do know that we get to hold and play with the current picture. Today, I will venture into the sun to play. I will be silly and laugh from my belly.

Sugar Lovin'

I just spoke with one of my close friends. She is an amazing woman filled with grace and goodness. She always gives me the sweet sugar lovin' that I need. I guess I needed some lovin' tonight. An evening filled with the struggle to find my place in the world. Sometimes good music, tea and friends can help ease the intensity of the overwhelm. There is a slow motion to this struggle. A path, dependent only on time.

Mary Oliver says it beautifully:

Daisies

It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead
oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies display
the small suns of their center piece, their - if you don't
mind my saying so - their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example - I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch -
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.