Well.  Talking about eliminating clutter.  I will NEVER forget taking wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow FULL and running over, to the dumpster and joyfully emptying it. 

It all started with the journals.  Thankfully, I was sitting on a real love conference call, with a journal in my lap (NOT an art journal, don't worry!), listening to people get loved, when the thought occurred to me.  If I didn't like reading about all my trials at that point, what made me think I'd EVER want to rehash the crap!??  I took a deep breath and shared on the call, that I was thinking about tossing them in the dumpster... one less thing to put into storage.  My dear friend and coach, Alex, laughed and shared my angst.  And the dumping began.  At one point I even broke the wheelbarrow with the load!  Journals, supplies, clothes, art books even!  Gasp!  There was so much that I knew if I'd never used until that day, I was never going to.  Done. Fini.  Over. 

Yes, I probably should have donated much of it, but I was tired and the pure joy in just heaving it could not be denied.  And, now, months later, I've only missed one thing.  Pretty darn cool.  Much less stuff is NOT a bad thing!  Simplicity.

I had a six foot tall cabinet I'd had made just for storing fabric.  I did give away the cabinet and probably half the fabric.  I saved only the pieces I just couldn't let go of, and they now dominate one corner of my living room, along with my sewing machine.  I'm actually making progress on my quilt and will hopefully get some other things made in the coming vacation days around the holidays.  I also gave away 2 desks, bookshelves, a t.v., and thankfully I don't even remember all of it!

We stayed with mum for 6 weeks, until it was just too heavy a weight to lift, then with a friend for 2-3 more.  Sleeping on the floor at 57 is not something anyone wants to do for too long.  Then, finally the time came and we found a sweet little duplex near my son's school.  He can walk right through the woods, and it's even a bit picturesque, with knock out roses under the front window, green shutters against the brick walls, with cedar shake soffits.  Small, and nothing like the farmhouse in the country, but quite livable, and much warmer, and closer in to town, but not too close! 

In the last week, I think I finally rested and recovered enough that I've begun to rise early and do my yoga.  I also began juicing last week.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Yum.  I have wanted to do this for a long time, but just wasn't ready.  I'm a firm believer in all things in their own time.  I'm feeling the juice healing my body as it cleans the toxicity from my stored fat.  That's leaving too, and I'm trying to believe that it's in its own time, but  I'm really wanting to push harder here.

And, a coworker saw paintbrushes I'd left on the breakroom table and now I'm doing a painting for her, of her beloved little puppy of 16 years.  I still have several outstanding paintings to finish, but I am doing a little as I go.  There just aren't enough hours in the day.  But there are more now that marching band season is over.  I did have a minute one day to photoshop this painting I finished years ago and was never wild about, I think it's an improvement.

Oh, and I almost forgot about my mural!  One of the things I love about blogging, is that I can see that I'm doing more than I might have allowed myself to believe!  My friend, Beth Hughes, moved her yoga teaching business into her very own space, and she's such a mover/shaker, she brought other like-minded healing arts professionals into the space with her, with lots of room for growth.  I met Beth when she walked into the chiropractic/massage offices where I worked several years ago.  I felt an instant kinship with her.  When I left the business, she moved in.  She loved the yoga lotus I'd painted on the wall there, and wanted one on her own wall.  I was all too happy to oblige.

I entertain the notion that one day, my Whole-Hearted Art will share in the same beautiful space in the old Broad Street building in my hometown, Rome, Georgia.  Beth and I share political views, worked closely on the Ron Paul campaign, and love YOGA! If you are in Rome, please check out her website (http://www.healingartscenterrome.com/thestudios.htm), or fb, for classes.  She's amazing. 

Art-less days

My days have been full of band exhibitions and football games and many church-related activities.  It's been wonderful!  I love being a mom.  I love, love, love my son.  I'm very aware that in only a few short years he will be off on his own life-time adventure, hopefully serving a mission, going to college, finding work that he loves, and somewhere in there finding the love of his life.  I try not to think of it as the end of my life, and I say that with some seriousness... my life truly began when I became a mom.  I love it that I have someone there, always needing me to take the focus of me and put it on them.

If it wasn't for the fact that my job affords me the time to blog, keep in touch with my many artistic friends, and read their blogs, I might have no art in my life at all... visual art that is... I do find ways to put an artistic spin on a plate periodically! 

Today on facebook, one artistic friend has requested some promotion, so I decided to do just that and write a blog about others, just for you! 

Mary Beth Shaw is an awesome artist who has written a book and created wonderful stencils for us at

http://stencilgirlproducts.com/

The information for ordering her books is right there on the site, too!

And, I found the most wonderful artist on facebook and fell in love... Keri Colestock... search for her and check out her wonderful artwork!  It's not everyday that I find an artist I love this much.  I have looked at EVERY one of her images on facebook.  I hope to be able to get one of her walldancers for my budding art collection.  I hear she likes to trade.  I guess that means I'll have to make something!  Nothing like motivation!

 

Something for You?!

When I was young, I thought Life was all about ups and downs.  My dad would say that I'd get too high then have to suffer the lows.  Now, I'm feeling more and more like it's both, and neither!  Having a happy life is certainly not about flatlining.

My highs came from unrealistic expectations that something or someone was going to "make me happy."  Because, of course, according to all the movies, songs, and people around me, that's the way it all works.  And, of course, as we are learning, and society is following along, oh so slowly, it turns out that W E   A R E   R E S P O N S I B L E   F O R   O U R  O W N   HAPPINESS!

 I remember the first time I encountered the concept.  I was in my later 20's and participated in Lifespring, a self-awareness seminar.  But, when the seminar was over, I quickly fell back under society's spell and went back to waiting on Prince Charming.  Later in life, it became Job Charming, and, even, Child Charming!   Now, at the ripe old age of 57, I realize I'm Charming!  If it's to be, it's up to me.  Happiness is an inside job.  Through the help of others (I did build it, but not alone) like Greg and Donna Baer, and Real Love, and all the coaches and friends I've made through conference calls and personal phone conversations, even small group meetings and seminars, I now know that I am loveable, warts and all.  I also realize that most of us never received enough of the love we desparately needed as children. 

This fact alone, I believe, accounts for most, if not all, the "evil" done in the world.  People who are hurting will do anything to avoid that pain: attacking/anger, clinging, running away from responsibility, acting like victims.  Yes, we were all victimized to some extent, some far more than others, but what we choose to do with that, after plugging in to all that's available at www.reallove.com, is largely up to us.  We can have a support group that is absolutely unparalleled by anything else in the world, if we only reach out and have faith in the process and in those who have been down the road ahead of us.

 I'm direct evidence that it works.  I'm not perfect, and I don't need to be.  I am loveable just the way I am, and learning to make better choices, failing my way to happiness.  If we are loved every step of the way, right or wrong, it takes the sting out of being wrong.  Talking about what I do wrong, my mistakes, to people who are loving, keeps me from wanting to hide and lie, and try to look good to earn the praise and approval of people who are just as empty, if not more, than myself.

I'm enjoying my path more today.  If you aren't enjoying yours enough today, please let me know, so I can offer you what I've found. 

Sweet Repeats: New Class...read on how to receive a gift worth 95.00!

I'm really needing to take a class in painting faces... this highly-recommended one just crossed my path, and I love her work, so.... here goes....

Sweet Repeats: New Class...read on how to receive a gift worth 95.00!

It's all in the attitude

I haven't posted in a while.  Things have been C.R.A.Z.Y.  How about in your life?  Have you ever noticed that "when it rains, it pours?"  I guess that is why there's a cliche for it, eh?  I am laughing, but a few weeks ago... not so much!

"The Apartment"  went to hell in a handbag. (Is that a southern colloquialism or is it universal?)  I was trying to be practical, at first glance, it wasn't my first choice of living quarters, but I thought I could make it work, with cleaning and some paint, etc.  First, it was the bees and wasps, not just a few, but an infestation.  Cute little honey bees, hm?  Nope. Don't get me wrong.  I love bees. I love honey.  But not in my WALLS.  The landlord tore bricks out of the exterior to get them smoked out and they simply moved to the other wide of the building (still my apartment).  Landlord did not replace bricks, and with rain and southern humidity, I soon had... MUSHROOMS growing through my bathroom ceiling!!  It was (and still is) surreal.  After a lengthy bit of time, Landlord came and tore out ceiling, spraying something to kill mold (ha!) and said he repaired plumbing leaks overhead.  Nope.  Guy upstairs flushes or takes shower... well, you get the picture.  Actually, I wish I had taken some pictures... well, maybe not.  Kitchen sink drains into floor, couldn't wash dishes for over a week... yikes.  Then lady upstair's dryer starts venting into my dryer.  I came home late at night from second job and my apartment is stifling hot and I can't  breathe for the dryer sheets.  Welcome to my life in hell for 3 months.  Finally, said to heck with it and rented storage space, moving truck, and got out.  Whew.  Still recovering and here it is a month later. 

I hope I never have to go through anything like that again.  I'd love to hear your horror stories.  Personally, I feel like mine is the cake topper, but I could be wrong.  Now, why the title "It's all in the attitude" for this post?  I was actually quite proud of mine.  After an initial thorough meltdown, I was grateful for the 4:00 a.m. inspiration to move in with my mom and put my things in storage (again).  Initially, I was hopeful of being a blessing to her, with grass mowing, and possibly helping her have that yard sale she's always talking about.  I thought, with these crazy economic times, and the upcoming elections looming (I tend to get negative about our future), it'd be good for all our little family to be under one roof.  I've learned a lot about how to get along and what's important this past year.  I thought I could do it. And, I have done much better this time around.  (Am I the only 57 year-old woman who has moved back in with her mom countless times?)  I'd love to hear your stories about this, too!  I alternate between moving to the west coast (think Oregon and California) and back to my home town every 1-7 years! 

The big difference this time has been that I know I am responsible for my happiness.  I am no longer blaming her, at least not for very long, when things go wrong.  I'm realizing I am the Big Bad Bear, not her.  She's just this little old lady who gets pretty crusty, controlling and complaining (most of the time, lol).  And I can see me following in her footsteps, if I'm not pretty darn careful.  It does take a huge effort, at least for me, to change.  And, I'm grateful, that Dr. Greg Baer (www.reallove.com) has said, that some people never recover from childhood abuse, in an entire lifetime.  Years ago, I would beat myself up because I wasn't healed yet.  Nowadays I am amazed when I catch myself not responding in a way I would have even a year ago.  I am changing. Maybe not as fast or as much as I'd like sometimes, but I am changing.  If I keep it up, just think of how far I might get in this little lifetime that I have left to me.  See, it really is all in the attitude.

This link will help you with yours, I hope.  http://www.marcandangel.com/2012/07/18/5-character-traits-that-make-you-happy/

Progress Along the Path

Home is shaping up a bit.  I noticed that even though the unpacking is still in progress...AND the organizing, too, the act of hanging art on the walls... just the right piece in a certain place... is helping me to feel more at home.  It is soothing to look at my creations.  I have put my heart and soul into them.  They are a little like my children!  Any artist understands this. 

The Path - The Yellow Brick Road?  Found the image on this website http://littlesebagomaine.blogspot.com/ and found a new friend!

 

 

 

 

 I have re-learned that during very difficult emotional times, my toolkit is essential, my trail of breadcrumbs to help me find my way:  deep breathing, staying quiet, allowing feelings to come without adding drama, fresh air/exercise and healthy foods and last, but absolutely not least, is the desire and commitment to finding JOY and much of that comes with the choice to be grateful.  I am so blessed to live now, fully as I choose, daily, fresh air, sunshine, spring flowers, birds singing, health and most of my freedoms still in tact.  Too much to be grateful for to be grumbling and worried.  Where there's will, there's way provided.  We'll just keep on keeping on here... hope you are, too.  Please feel free to leave your trail of breadcrumbs in the comment section below!

Trauma Drama

Whew.  Well, the technical part of packing up and the actual move are over.  I know you can relate.  Now the unpacking.  I usually love this part, rediscovering my "things" again.  Not so much this time.  I left my 113-year old farmhouse in the country, with the winding road that looks pastoral-masterpiece-inspired, along with my kitties.  Eternal gratitude to my kind neighbor who is keeping the kittens and finding homes for the rest.  She even calls and gives me updates.  I really hated unpacking boxes that had kitty things inside.  I thought when I found this little apartment in town that it'd be great for kitties... fenced in backyard, almost in the woods although in the city... but after moving in discovered D-O-G-S lived in every apartment.  After trying to get 3 of my babies to acclimate, they all disappeared into the woods, one never to return, I took the other two back out to the country.  Sigh.

Everything is always such a mixed blessing.  My meager income was stretched too thin, commuting, feeding 9 cats.  I'm saving on gas, time, rent, utilities, and now, cat food.  I went for a little visit today and they wouldn't even come near me, but one, my little C.  Good for them.  They deserve a mom who won't leave (them for) town.

I cried for days, while I cleaned up the "old" place.  I'm better now that I don't have to go back there anymore.  They say six months after any major event, it's back to life-as-usual. I hope it doesn't take 6 months, but it may take longer.  I loved my house.  There were things about it I didn't, but overall, it was beautiful: huge... 2-3 acres surrounded by more woods and quiet neighbors.  The peace, quiet, incredible-dark-starlit-skies and sweet country air are sorely missed.  I really lost it the last time I stood on my front porch and remembered all the mornings I waited for the bus with my son, watched him take off running for it, and tried to prepare myself for the day when he'll fly free.  But through the tears, as I took boxes to the dumpster, I could spot a few dim stars overhead, and took consolation.  I've begun to notice things I like about the new place in spite of myself.  The cure for melancholy regret is always gratitude.  I was in a rut, nothing like moving to jolt you out of your routine and allow for different choices.

Once order is restored I'll take out my art supplies and create something, maybe even more often, at least that is my goal.  I even thought (gasp) at one point, I should just forget about art.  It sure would cut down on unpacking and the organization needed to make it work in a tiny apartment.  And, that urge, no matter what else I'm doing, to think, "What could I be making right now, if I wasn't doing this?"  The truth is that often when I have the time, I'm not in the "mood."

I sense that once settled in I may actually make more art and better art, since I'll have less house to keep up with, and be more "efficient."  That's the word a friend used when she saw the place.  Not much storage though, which will require that I eliminate anything I don't really need and use.  And, that's a good thing, at this age, less for others to dispose of.  And, I'm doing it willingly, less stress for others, again.  57 isn't that old, but I deal with seniors on the phone at work all day, and my mom and her siblings are 80ish.  So, I can't help but think that we (others my age) are all going through the same kinds of things.  Hard to watch our parents age, harder still to see ourselves following in their footsteps.  Aging is not pretty no matter how you approach it. 

I struggle with giving in (or up) or trying to find a place inside myself to begin, again... to muster up some energy for another goal, besides just raising my son right, although that would certainly be enough, if that's all I end up doing.  It's all I feel I can do right now.  While I toy with the idea of running for public office, ha ha ha ha! I'll be glad when elections are over and I can let it go.  Right now, it's urgent, I feel (again) somehow like I'm responsible for saving the free world, or what's left of the freedoms we once had.  If you are reading this, please, please, please, research the candidates.  No need to debate it, just really examine the freedoms that we are losing by the minute.  Please.  The pain of moving, getting older are bad enough without the thought of how painful it would be to have no freedoms left at all.