October 2009
eye candy…a special treat {your photos!}
click on images for photo credits…
filling the well {a monthly inspiration prompt} :: time to get creative
my creative time is very unstructured. at the whim of two young children, i am constanly squeezing in creativity in between feedings, homework, and bedtime stories. often times my littlest one is cozied up in my studio watching me work and singing to the soft music.
most of my creative time goes to running things here in the wishstudio… connecting with you, dreaming up new ideas, keeping things moving behind the scenes. i do still try to find time to do my own crafty projects, blog on my personal site, and create a little art when i feel inspired. that is someting i want to devote more time to, and what i find the hardest time to carve out for myself. i am working on that one though, as i find i really do enjoy (and even need) the process of getting messy and creating just for fun.
for me, creativity lives in all the facets of my life, so if i am not in my studio making connections or art, i am still immersed in creative living all the time. it is the air i breath!
how about you?
Read more >>the necklace project
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musepreneur :: are you a scanner/slasher with many passions?
by jennifer lee
Being the creative person and/or a creative entrepreneur that you are, I bet you have a plethora of passions: perhaps art, writing, photography, knitting, and salsa dancing. Maybe you dream of running a yoga studio in Costa Rica and in the same breath you can see yourself opening up a vegan bakery or writing your first mystery novel or designing high-fashion shoes.
Here are a few ways to embrace your love of variety:
october giveaway winners!
ordinary sparkling moments :: is it a passion or job?
As these thoughts and questions simmered throughout my week at Squam Art Workshops (SAW), I couldn’t help but think about a similar spark that caught my attention at the 2008 SAW gathering during a panel discussion with the teachers. An audience member asked everyone on stage what rituals they did each day to get themselves in a creative mood, and I found myself wanting to jump up and say, “YES!” to the answer Penelope Dullaghan gave. I am paraphrasing, but it was something like this: That sometimes she isn’t in the mood, no matter how many candles are lit or rituals are performed; sometimes she wakes up grouchy and tired but she has a deadline to meet and – wait for it – this is her job. Ritual or no, it is her job to create, so create she must do.
In those moments when I would love nothing more than to skip along the sidewalks all day, nap, see a movie, and read, I always have a choice. I am an independent artist and have the freedom to take on as much or as little as I want. It could easily be said that I take on too much, but I approach my work with a take no prisoners attitude because I consider every opportunity to do the work I do is a gift, a gift that is being offered to me because I have worked hard. I followed my passion and – I still can’t believe I get to say this – my job is to create, write, and share my work.
There are plenty of days when things feel out of whack, when I ask myself, “Is this what I really signed up for?” When I started my greeting card line Swirly in 1995 I certainly didn’t anticipate having to spend day after day packing orders of cards. Running that business was a job, let me tell you, but it was my passion for what I was sending in all of those boxes that kept me going. And that’s the deal – when a passion is pursued I need to release the idea that I’ll wake up with bluebirds tying ribbons in my hair and sunbeams streaming through my windows. Pursuing a passion is work. It is effort and time and being willing to take on more than is easy to handle. It is, in the simplest terms, a job.
When I stop feeling that the work I do supports my passions – when the river I’m traversing seems to be stuck in a swamp instead of feeding into wider channels of joy and possibility – then it will be time to shift my direction…and think about changing jobs. But whatever title I ever hold the work will always be part of the package, and only through those efforts will I find my way to the wide open sea, beautiful lands, and passion fulfilled.
“Most people don’t recognize opportunity when it comes, because it’s usually dressed in overalls and looks a lot like work.” ~Thomas Edison
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october giveaways :)
here are two extra juicy giveaways for you this month!
first… madelyn mulvaney, photographer, writer and creator of persisting stars has offered to one very lucky winner a gift certificate to take one of her inspiring e-courses as well as one photograph from her shop (amazing, right?). click on over to her gorgeous site for more details about her class offerings! maddie is also working on her first book ‘the art of living cheerfully’ so stay tuned to all that is unfolding in her world.
starting next month, she will also be joining us as a regular contributor here in the wishstudio with a column inspired by her book.
and if that weren’t enough… the fabulous christine mason miller has gifted a copy of her wonderfully soul stirring book, ‘ordinary sparkling moments’ in addition to a package of her inspirational art postcards. her words and artwork will remind you to embrace the simple joys of every day, and inspire you to live an authentic, wholehearted, and beautifully meaningful life! there are so many wonderfully profound yet simple truths shared in her story… i know you will love it as much as i did!
to win either of these prize packages this month, leave a comment on this post, 3 words or less, by the end of the day on monday oct. 19 about what inspires you. one entry per person please. two random winners will be chosen and posted on tuesday, oct. 20th – good luck everyone!
Read more >>wishmamas :: balance
It is my lens, my window, my aquarium.
Trying for balance is the thing I do daily, again and again, the way the first people must have tried repeatedly for fire, striking dull things together, feeling their fingers bleed or become numb with the hope of something they couldn’t really fathom, even after they’d felt it once, twice, more times; the way the cave walls suddenly flashed with warmth and light, so much suddenly possible.
Being a writer and a mother means having a hundred things always suspended in a precarious state of maybe equilibrium. Balancing these two parts of my soul means living in a state of being continually at odds with itself. It is at once an act of movement and stillness, of breathing and holding breath, of restraint and strength. Some days I feel like it is possible. Other days every action is tied to the thread of the next, and all I do is rinse breakfast bowls, make peanut butter sandwiches, fold small shirts, nurse, wash dirty hands, and point out big rigs on the road as we drive to and from school, and when night comes I pull the this strange quilt of moments close and wonder if it will ever feel like enough.
The truth is, I always pictured that I would be mother. I even pictured having boys (ever the tomboy, they’ve always been my favorite.) But until I unexpectedly became pregnant with my firstborn, I was content to have children remain abstractions in my head—a part of Someday when I would really be Grown Up and had Accomplished Things. It was in that same Someday that I imagined I would become a writer. Meanwhile I spent hours in traffic, contributed to a retirement account, dropped off my dry cleaning, and was content to exist at the very center of my own small world.
Then my boys showed up. Both were unplanned, born four years and four days apart as though they were cahoots together from the start. I had just turned 27 when I had my first, 31 with my second, and before the birth of each I remember having conversations with other women who seemed hell-bent on giving me one very urgent message: your life is over when you have a baby. Say goodbye to your professional life; your dreams; your sense of identity, as it exists now, separate from the little person that will depend on you. I heard this even more with my second than with my first. With my second son it was clearly the end. I was a Mom. Childrearing could no longer pass as a pastime. It was my life.
It turns out there is nothing truer than what they were saying—and nothing farther from the truth. My life was over, as it had been. Things are more full, complicated, poignant, raw. I have new definitions for certain things. The word Leisure, for one, has been forever altered. Sleeping in means waking up at 6:30 instead of 5a.m. A good night of sleep means waking only twice instead of every hour. And there is a list of endless task-specific skills that motherhood requires, the least of which include: stain treating shirts and emptying pockets before throwing laundry into the machine; or bringing snacks and remembering tissues and wipes every time I leave the house, and the learning curve for these is steep and I decidedly suck most. But the thing I didn’t count on was that becoming a mother forced me to listen to my stirring, wanderlust heart in a way that I never had.
Before my sons, my life was full of busyness, and creativity was often pushed to the margins as my days became filled with commuting, commitments, consumption. I worried a lot about how things appeared, and about security and control. Living with two small boys has gradually worn away the edges of these illusions. I am learning that there is no such thing as control (the very fact that they are in my life at all proves this) or security for that matter. My sons teach me, with their buoyant little boy hearts, that only moment we have is now.
This is the only one.
I used to squander my time. I pushed my creative self to the side because there was always time to go back and pick up the dropped stitches, staying up until 3am to pursue an illusive story. If I worked long hours at my job and felt drained, I could refill on the weekends with slow-start mornings and evenings listening to jazz in cafes or people watching in town. Because I had so much time, I often missed the value of each moment. I easily spent entire nights watching crappy television shows because there would always be another night; but more often than not these distractions became habits, and writing happened much less than it happens now.
Now my time is compressed. I have a 7 month old and a four year old and every moment demands more of me than I feel capable of giving sometimes. I am no longer the center of my days, and I can see how easy it would be to loose sight of myself entirely in the midst of this. Caring for small children has a black hole capacity, for sure. But what it also does is force me to acknowledge that the only Someday I’ll ever have is right now (every cliché is true. They grow up so fast.) And forced to look at my life through the lens of this urgent present, my creative self has surfaced and writing is there, persistent and terrifying, and as indisputable as my need to breathe.
So I try for balance. I wake up and plunge into a choreography of push and pull between the needs of my own heart and the needs of my boys. I write because I cannot avoid it and still feel whole; and without feeling whole I become a shallow, snipping, impatient mother. Many day’s it’s less of a balance and more of a prolonged stumble, but it’s something, and in the process of this something, I am becoming.
***
Christina’s short fiction and essays have appeared in the Sun and Mothering. Before recently turning her attention to writing full time she spent several years as a teacher. She writes the blog {my topography} and is working on her first novel.
in a new light :: letting go
There is a quiet in the floorboards that I am not used to. The complete stillness in this house is a stark contrast to the sounds and energies generated by my little ones, when they are here, just being themselves.
I can only write about where I’m at. No matter how much I might want to write about something else right now, like my garden’s harvest, or the way the moon shone a bright orange last night, I can’t — not until I reckon with these feelings and then let go.
Ah, the concept of letting go! It is now my teacher. I got pretty good at learning to care for my little birds, and now one is leaving the nest, so to speak. My firstborn, my son, has just started Kindergarten. I know he hasn’t really left the nest yet, not completely, but it feels that way when he’s away from me five days a week for nearly eight hours at a time.
It is a bittersweet time for me and I am feeling such a mix of emotions. I am so happy because he is happy. He loves going on his “school adventures” as we call them, and tells story after story upon his return. My husband and I are excited for him as he begins this new, more independent phase of his life. But, I am honoring the fact that I am also in mourning for his babyhood and preschool years that I can’t get back.
change.
A part of me welcomes it and jumps at the chance to rearrange my life, let in new experiences, put on a new pair of lenses, and allow myself to be gifted with the element of surprise.
change.
Then, there’s that other part of me that doesn’t do so well with it. It can be hard, messy, uncertain, uncomfortable — even scary.
As my daughter has started more extensive hours at preschool, a breathing space has opened in my life. This freedom feels equally luxurious and devastating. I feel equally full and empty. As my tears begin to dry, I am seeing possibility within this new space; an opportunity to reinvent myself and unfurl the parts of me that are other than caregiver. I now have more time to be with me and really honor my needs and desires that I had tucked away for later. Part of this letting go is embracing this available space.
For one, I can work until 2 PM instead of 2 AM! — my stamina for the late-night stints was at its burning end anyhow. I can now take time to just sit, completely alone with my body and my thoughts, sipping coffee, even allowing myself to doze if that is what I need. I’ve decided that sweatpants are for lounging and sleeping in only:) — I’m sprucing up my wardrobe — colorful scarves, sexy jeans and soft brown leather cowboy boots. I’ve made a list of places to go — field trips into Portland, art museums, coffee shops.
There are definitely two distinct sides to this coin of letting go of my babies. I know it will become easier as time goes by, but for now I just need to be where I’m at. I will leave you with these two sentences that I composed just before school began: “And then there are moments when a sadness creeps up and in on me, my eyes flood with tears and there is a tightness in my throat and just over my heart as I think of letting my babies go. But inside I know that letting go is the only way for them to realize their own precious hearts’ capacity for greatness and love.” These words bring comfort — they have become like a prayer for me. Writing this post has been surprisingly therapeutic — I feel me loosening up a bit, letting go a little more… and a little bit more.
Susan Tuttle is a mixed-media and digital artist who resides in a small-town community in the Midcoast region of Maine. Her first book, Exhibition 36: Mixed-Media Demonstrations + Explorations, was released by North Light Books in December 2008, and her second book, Digital Expressions: Creating Digital Art with Adobe® Photoshop® Elements, a technique-based publication on digital art, will be published by North Light Books in April 2010. Susan is a frequent contributor to Stampington & Company publications and other mixed-media books. You can visit her site at www.ilkasattic.com and her blog at www.ilkasattic.blogspot.com through which she is offering online digital art workshops on the subjects of photomanipulation, digital montage, and a variety of Photoshop techniques.
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As a child it was easy; defined for me, “What an artist you are!” As I moved through school it became that thing into which I poured my soul for safe-keeping. “I am an artist,” my whole being seemed to know, and yet when anyone made the assumption that I would be an artist when “I grew up,” I would be the first to correct them. Though I never had a passion for anything else, except perhaps speech & debate, from somewhere early on I had adopted the idea that Art is not a Job, in any form. Not one open to new seekers anyhow.
As adulthood came for me, without realizing, I had put it aside so completely that some years later, as a new mom, I hear myself utter the words, “I used to be an artist.” The words seemed to positively echo inside of my head… used to be…
I didn’t like them at all, and yet it suddenly seemed so definite, so irreversible. Years passed on and I threw myself into my children, arriving one by one, with their own needs. My art now comprised of childlike crayon drawings as I marveled at my young son’s ability to mimic them at only 2 years old.
“An Artist,” I thought to myself! I did not, however, utter this out loud. It seemed to me, in that moment, that somehow my art had been stolen by definition, and though I couldn’t yet explain how, I was determined to protect his from that fate.
I think what I was beginning to understand is that Art is not something you do, but rather something you are. As the years passed I watched my son begin to define art, begin to recognize others’ reactions to his. “I am a good artist,” he declared one day. I didn’t know what to do. Still so uncertain of what I was trying to protect him from I responded without knowing what I was going to say.
“Everyone is an artist,” I told him, “Everyone is an artist in some way, in some medium.”
Art is how we express ourselves and the final product is not created to be judged, if it is real art. If it is real art it was created because you couldn’t help yourself, because your should was speaking. If it was noticed it is not because your technique was grand but rather because someone else could recognize you and themselves in it. Because art, painting, writing, drawing, cooking, mothering, living, speaks of your heart and soul. And when you put your heart and soul into something it lights up with your inherent beauty.
This is good art.
Creating something of yourself is being an artist.
“Yes,” I said, “you are definitely an artist, and I love what you create!”
Though I haven’t yet begun my old medium of paint and pencil, I have allowed myself to pour creativity and passion into everything that I do. Once again I know that “I am an artist.” Sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes on paper, sometimes in the way that I live in each moment, but I am definitely an artist. And so are you.
Aimee LeVally Harris is a mother of three, forever in pursuit of greater balance of all things in life, embracing her deeper creative self, and building a homestead in the mountains of Taos, New Mexico. After donating all her family’s belongings to charity, and traveling the country in an RV for a year, simplicity and a greater understanding of self seems more possible. It’s been a wild ride, and most definitely, never boring. Following a lifelong assertion that there is a blessing in everything, Aimee expresses her thoughts on these topics on her blog Cage Free Family.
tranquilology :: bon vivant habits
Pack your lunch. Find yourself running out for an expensive, not-so-healthy snack mid-day? Pull your veggies, protein, bag of nuts, and fruit together the night before.
Bike, walk, or take public transport to work. Spend a lot on your daily commute and parking? Explore additional options that will allow you to breathe deeply, read or listen to a book, and maybe even get some exercise along the way.
Visit your local library. Addicted to bookstore browsing? Not a problem unless it translates to lots of unread books on your shelves. Try browsing your local library instead.
Download a movie. Love a matinee and tub of popcorn? Savor a French flick or documentary in the comfort of your own home with family and four-legged friends nearby. Make your own light popcorn, sip tea or wine, and enjoy a movie on your own terms.
Carry a reusable water bottle. Find yourself parched while out and about? Forgo buying bottle water or sodas. Never leave home without your reusable water bottle that can easily be refilled at water fountains.
Take a staycation. Got the travel bug? Indulge in an exploration of your town. Check out parks and gardens, museums, sidewalk cafes, and yummy brunches – you’ll be sure to find a perfect fit in your own backyard.
Make your gifts. Have upcoming birthdays or special events that require a gift? Explore getting crafty. Bead a necklace. Knit a scarf. Write a poem. Photograph their beloved pet. Bake a pie.
Shop consignment. Stay stylish this fall while picking up a new scarf, sweater, hat, or tall boots from your local consignment shop. These stores are full of hidden gems and the search makes for a fun afternoon.
These small changes offer a chance to revamp your creativity, develop foresight, care for the environment, support your local economy, nurture your spirit, and slow your spending. Voilà, yes you can have it all!
OMwork (homework with a yogic twist): Reflect on a least one way to replace an old habit with a healthier, budget savvy habit. Note the savings and effect on your overall wellbeing. Ommmm for your body and your budget!
the gifts of true friendship
6. they inspire you to be your best self ~ and shine like bright stars in our lives.
blowing bubbles in a concrete jungle :: a joy rebel’s take on having credentials
I have a confession to make. I have all these ideas in my head-e-courses to give, books to write, projects to undergo.
And I’ve stopped myself from creating them because I didn’t feel like I had the necessary credentials.
I thought I needed an artsy-fartsy degree, or a least a different one, more years doing this creative thing, different or more or better or more expensive equipment, expert knowledge on said equipment and more blog readers, among other things.
Then like a light bulb bursting from the heat, it hit me the other day. So and so couldn’t have had that many blog readers when they started out. And now that I think of it, she/he doesn’t have a degree that’s any more artsy-fartsy than mine is. Or probably a cooler day job either.
What these people have-these that I look up and have determined have the right credentials, is a masters degree in their own experience and a doctorate in authentic expression.
That’s what makes them legit in my eyes-they aren’t trying to be anyone other than themselves. In fact, when I buy their art or read their books, I never check to make sure they have a degree that means anything or certain letters after their name or any number of years of experience.
Their art or e-courses or books uplift and inspire and grow community because they come from a place of authenticity.
I have now been filled by a knowing that I can share anything with the world for no other reason that I want to and it comes from within.
And I would invite anyone reading to consider the same thing. We can all obtain doctorates in authentic expression.
What do you want to share with the world?
Brandi Reynolds is an artist, photographer and joy rebel, living in a suburb of dallas with her infinitely patient husband and two rescued furry souls that drive her nuts half the time. The intention of her creative expression, and her life, is to celebrate, inspire, enjoy and connect with joy and humor in all facets of life. You can discover the beauty she sees in the everyday in her etsy shop or join the joy rebellion on her website.
a little treat :: submit your photos!
as a special halloween treat i’d like to post your photos! send in your favorite halloween or fallish photograph to help us celebrate, inspire and share this season! please email me your photo and a link to your site if you choose (one submission per person please!), and at the end of the month i will post as many as blogger will allow me to. can’t wait to peek into your little world…thanks in advance for sharing!
september giveaway winner…
thanks to everyone who shared thier sentiments of home. it was really fun and sweet to read them all! congrats to bookgirl for winning armani’s beautiful retablo (please email me to claim your prize). and don’t miss out on october’s unbelievable giveaways from swirly and maddie… stay tuned for details.wishmamas :: daydream believer
‘Life is so utterly unpredictable and curious
and beautiful and wondersome, and really,
someone should just write a book about it.’
~ david pohl ~
In the early years of their lives, I responded with such wonder and amazement to these effervescent little souls as I enthusiastically threw myself into their worlds, creating a vibrant and engaging home for their emerging spirits. We built forts out of blankets in the yard, sandcastles decorated with shells and seaglass on the beach, threw ‘just because’ parties well, just because….and wandered off on little adventures in our vintage triple e trailer every summer. Pillow fights and pancakes were common sunday morning occurences. The house was (and still is) filled with a whimsical mix of clay and paint, music for afternoon dance parties, a hamster named Charlie, a bunny named Flopsy and a dog named Roxy. Oh !and a delightful parade of fish, caterpillars and fireflies. Happy days that made us dizzy and breathless pebbled with healthy doses of tears, growing pains, and endless trays of homemade cookies.
I loved being a mother and was committed to this remarkable path wearing my sunniest dress with lots of pockets for treasures found, and my brightest smile. And then. I began to experience twinges of my own growing pains. A curious and insistant longing for something I had left behind and was compelled to go back and unearth.
As a child I had always written in a growing pile of colorful diaries ~ at first those chunky little books with a tiny golden key and later in various notebooks with covers I decored with torn pages from magazines. Returning to myself, I began to express my deepest yearnings if only for an hour each morning before my children awoke by writing in fresh new journals. Devoting even this small part of each day to being alone with my writing and thoughts turned out to be such a catalyst for the re~emergence of ‘ Madelyn’ apart from being a mother. A bolder, more passionate Madelyn that wanted to EXPRESS HERSELF!!
It was through my morning writing that I began to know myself in a different light as I gave myself this time to expore my most intimate wishes and dreams with greater sensitivity. I adored my children but I found myself asking ‘what is mine and mine alone?’ and ‘what do I need to reach for in order to be true to myself?’ There was such a sense of ‘possbility’ in the surge of writing my dreams down onto paper that I could not ignore. And then something quite surprising began to happen. Things I secretly longed for and scribbled into notebooks…came true.
As I wrote I fell all the more in love with my life and began to look oh so closesly at the abundance of small happinesses in my life and somehow everything seemed so possible with a simple leap of ‘yes!’
Yes to going to India with my ten year old son, yes to taking photography classes at Emily Carr part time, yes to submitting my articles for publication in various magazine, yes to re evaluating the definition of nourishing relationships in my life, yes to exploring the limitless expanse of my human heart, yes to being a ‘daydream believer.’ Yes, oh yes!
One of those most lovely parts of the re-emergence of ‘Maddie’ is how my children have responded. They are so delighted with my writing and photography. My daughter loves to spend an afternoon helping me with my photography and has become an evocative photographer herself. My son is constantly pointing out subject matter for me to capture…like the tumbling leaves in the playground on a windswept fall day or a marine blue sky. Now that I have given birth to my true artisan spirit, I find myself filling up with even more love and energy to share with my friends and family.
This morning as I sit here in my studio with my soya latte listening to early Beatles records, I feel extraordinarily thankful beyond measure. There are piles of books all around me, a stack of photo’s I need to scan (when i buy a new scanner), a wonderful list of students who have signed up for my photography/writing e~courses, and a zillion projects and ideas I have just bursting to come to life. And they certainly will – after I make a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookes that is:)
Madelyn Mulvaney is a writer and photographer living in her ’sea to sky’ city of Vancouver, British Columbia. Her curiosity leads her to everyday magic and she enjoys taking her camera out to capture the quirks, beauty and wonder in the world. She loves morning coffee, film, poetry, vinyl records, dancing, reading books curled up on the front porch, scribbling in notebooks, long drives without a map and saying yes! Pop by and visit her at her online journal here
Read more >>January :: Begin
Wishful Living Workbook
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