rhythm of possibilty {self-portrait challenge}

Sewing in my little room. It is actually pretty clean right now, but from this angle, you cannot tell that at all.

I tend to find sewing meditative. The rhythm of the cutting, ironing, pinning, sewing, snipping, turning, ironing, pinning and on and on. I have time to think as I do these things. Lately, my brain has tended to wander to the idea of possibilities. I am feeling my heart open with this idea…possibility. There is so much that is before me. I just need to give myself a little space to realize this. I need to allow myself to release the fear, anxiety, self-doubt, and self-judgment. It is that darn self-judgment that gets me every time. The comparisons with others and negative voices that echo in my head.

Trying to just find that rhythm of hope and belief.
In myself.

Trying to stay in a rhythm of possibility.

(visit self-portrait challenge for more responses to this month's challenge of environment.)

planting connection {self-portrait challenge}

There has been a running dialogue in my head with you today. I suppose it started with the smell of strawberries in the kitchen this morning. I started thinking about how anytime I would see you in the spring and early summer we always had strawberries. Because you would freeze them, I guess we had them whenever I visited. My mind wandered to memories of you all day. Maybe it is because the last time I saw you it was this week, three years ago. Does the mind subconsciously remember such things? This afternoon, as I sliced the strawberries before Jonny got home, I just thought about you and wondered how you are doing. Wondered where you are now. Just wondered. I keep thinking about how I have been drawn to the color green for the last year or so…longer than that now I guess. It is that nature green…that bright leafy, grass green that I seem to want to soak in. Though, I guess, I am drawn to all shades of it lately (as evidenced by my clothes and jewelry and the fabric I buy), but it is the grass green that seems to be important. It is the color that seems to be whispering "grow" to me. Maybe it is you whispering that word to me through this color. Through the leaves on the tulips all spring. Through the warm, thick grass in the backyard. Through the oregano that comes back each year in our little patch of "garden." Through the green of the plants I decided I had to plant late this evening. I was working late and decided that even though dusk was fast approaching, I just wanted to put those annuals into the pots and not wait another day. And, as I turned over the soil and moved it to the side to put them into the pots, I found myself talking to you again. Letting you know that even though I may not have your gardening abilities or that I do not love it to the extent you did, putting those plants in the soil in those pots helps me feel close to you. Helps me to feel a connection. Of course, it also makes my back hurt like hell. Goodness my back is the back of someone with sciatica. It felt good to just tell you about that too. Just like I was catching you up on my life as though we were talking as we used to. I started wondering if you used to wear gloves when you would plant things. I think so. I waited for an answer as I thought the question. Maybe you will remind me when I plant the herbs later this week. I told you that I thought you would have laughed at me out there wearing my wedding ring in all that soil and you would have shook your head in disbelief that I was planting things so late. But, then I had the thought that maybe you understood. You understood my need to feel this closeness. Our relationship has shifted. And, as I talked to you this evening, I felt this bit of space inside me that seemed to indicate that you understand. That there is just knowing now. And, that is okay.

It feels so good to talk to you. And, it wasn't a conversation filled with sobs or moments of literal heart ache. No, it was just me talking to you. Just me feeling connected.

(see more self-portraits at self-portrait challenge)

letting go {self-portrait challenge}

This evening, I choose to (try to) let go…

Of the need to feel guilty. I think I must be a bit addicted to feeling guilty as I choose to feel it so often. Can guilt be like a drug? Oh how I have gotten better over the last few years, but I hope to keep saying, "thanks, but no thanks" to the invitation of guilt.

Of the need to please. I will not please everyone. I cannot. And the truth is, I will not.

Of the need to dwell. A few months ago a wise friend said to me, "when your friend thinks she could have cancer and her doctor is saying things like, 'we don't really know what it is' and 'we haven't seen this before really' and you don't stand by her or you choose to stay mad about things, well, I think you lose all your friend points then." Yes. This is true. I need to let go of my need to dwell on things like this. Move on.

Of the need to be understood. The truth is, sometimes people just aren't gonna get it. They aren't gonna "get you." And that is okay. It. Is. Okay.

Of the need to look a certain way. I do this more and more as I own that I can just be me.

Of the need to put myself down. It is such an easy record to play in my head.

Of the need to think I am protecting others. Because this is often at the risk of harming myself. The opposite of this is inviting in honesty and boundaries.

Of the need to be liked by people who might be a lot cooler than me.

Of the need to focus on and fear the judgment of others. This goes hand in hand with that need to please. But, this one is really about that word: fear. It is a fear in the pit of my stomach. The fear that I will have to admit I cannot do it all. The fear that I will have to admit my pain, my truth.

Of the need to judge.

Of the need to stuff it in.

Of the need to ask for advice when I already know the answers.

Of the need to call someone.

Of the need to get wrapped up in emotion when I think someone does not understand me. I just keep trying to peel back the layers and let go of this. Knowing my reaction and words and thoughts belong to me. Theirs belong to them.

Of the need to fear what speaking my truth might do.

Of the need to be worried about a post full of pieces of my story (like this one).

Of the need to "have to."

What need do you need to let go of today? Do it now my friends. Let it go.
(maybe even leave an anonymous comment. free yourself…)

(for more "street" photography, visit self-portrait challenge)

two words {self-portrait challenge}

In this month’s issue of Domino, there is an article about two women in BC who are image consultants who will ask you a series of questions (on the phone), then converse with one another, then call back, and tell you two words that are your style statement. They have created a creative science of sorts and have some sort of system that they use. The author writes about how these two words became guidelines for people who had paid for this service. Phrases like “Sophisticated Era” and “Classic Genuine” seemed to change the lives of these people. They went through their closets and homes and decluttered based on these words. They began to choose their clothes and sofas based on this style statements.

Separate from how one might feel about spending $500 for two people who don’t know you even a little to tell you your style statement, I am intrigued by this idea of two words that would symbolize who I am, who my heart hopes and longs to be. Two words to remind me to recognize who I am.

I have been thinking about this article quite a bit since I read it over the weekend. Not really feeling drawn to set up an appointment with these women (though knowing my style statement might be interesting), but rather just intrigued by the idea of thinking about two words that would be a personal mantra for myself. I even had a moment when I kind of put out into the universe that I was open to recognizing my two words.

Yesterday, I received an email from a blog reader who had read yesterday’s post. She explained how she could relate to parts of my story. In her note she said, “I know you are strong, a spiritual warrior.”

My two words.
Spiritual warrior.

I know there might be other words out there, other phrases that represent me…that speak to who I am. But, right now these two words vibrate within me. (Thank you for them.)

As I sift through the past and make choices about how to react to the life behind me so that I can live in this life right now, I am indeed a spiritual warrior. I fight my way through the feelings to find what is underneath. I sit in the quiet and notice. I practice so that I can be ready for the unexpected. I breathe. I breathe. I breathe. So that I can recognize. So that I will see myself. So that I will know myself.

As I chose an outfit for today, I felt like I wanted to wear a dress. It was a beautiful summer-like day here in the Puget Sound area. As I chose a sundress from my closet, I also grabbed a pair of pants to wear underneath the dress. Just in case. After all, a warrior has to be ready for battle, even in a dress.

*****

Thank you for your comments and emails about my post yesterday. It means so much. To know I am not alone. To know you are out there reading. My heart is full with your support and kind, kind words. Thank you.

*****

Visit self-portrait challenge to see more responses to "street photos."

an elephant in my living room {self-portrait challenge}

Two weeks ago, the elephant that has been sitting in the middle of my living room my entire life started talking to me. In the past, the elephant and I have successfully ignored one another. Because I learned that whenever I tried to talk with this elephant, I would be crushed or at the very least misunderstood. I have worn a path in the living room as I have tiptoed around the elephant my entire life. We have an unspoken understanding of how our relationship works. We pretend we don’t even see one another. In fact, I have figured out a way to avoid the living room all together. Yet, out of nowhere, the elephant decided it wanted to have tea and talk and take the shit off the shelves that has been comfortably sitting there for years.

This is the image I have been sitting with as I reflect on this new aspect of my relationship with the elephant.

On my drive up to Seattle Saturday, as I soaked in the blue sky and the mountains that surrounded me, I had a small shift.

What if as I try to sift through my feelings, I allow this elephant to be Ganesha? What if I channel my energy into seeing how Ganesha has been sitting in my living room my whole life just waiting for the moment when I would see him?

This doesn’t mean that I am equating the original image with a god. No. The original image is a big old elephant of unspoken crap that has sat in the living room for as long as I can remember. But, as I prepare to do some battle with my own internal demons and stuff that is clawing its way to the surface through this, maybe I can allow myself to realize that I do not go into battle alone.

The elephant god is ready, just waiting for me in the middle of my living room, whenever I decide I need assistance.

(see other self-portraits here)