Novice to Substack (and to all social media apps): I wrote a weekly check in this morning and appear to have lost the text. Instead it seems I posted the quote from the end of Michelle’s Friday message to the general population responses to her post. Innocuous enough, but now nervous about Substack and the potential for accidentally stepping onto a Substack roller-coaster.
Insipid rewritten check-in for Week 3:
1) yes, MP every day, not always in the morning. I totally fell asleep at the table while writing MP on Monday morning.
2) Artist’s Date (Week 3): created two new sourdough starters by feeding two batches of starter different types of flour (started this project last week, but starters were not mature in time to date them). For this week’s date I made two batches of bread, one made from each starter (overall, a 17-hour process, including the overnight fermentation). Result: spectacular looking bread, tastes delicious, and an interesting experiment: the starters smelled different and otherwise identical loaves smelled and tasted slightly different. The amount of total time the project took dampened my overall enthusiasm and the therapeutic value of this date. Better to stick to shorter projects for now.
3) Did tasks 2-5, but mostly spent my time this week dating my inner sourdough Artist and didn’t put as much effort into tasks (“you get out what you put in” applies). I will do #6 - call a nurturing friend - anticipating that will up the Task benefits.
4) Risks? Getting on Substack currently feels like the biggest risk of the month, although I finally unfollow all weird extraneous and raunchy copious message/email-sending “Stacks” that I unwittingly got enrolled in the first day (does not apply to anyone in this Artist’s Way project - I should follow MORE of you). Additional risk: I called my sister, a big talker-type, and obliged her to hear me out for a change (important family business).
Been thinking a lot about the difference between “artist” and “technician”. I feel like there is about 90% overlap, maybe more. What do you think differentiates the two?
That is a really deep question, and one I would not have thought to ask. I guess the tools are similar which is where the overlap is.
I think (or maybe I want to believe) that the artist's work is more creative, playful, and expressive while the technician's work is process and outcome oriented.
To use a simple example: a Lego artists creates something new and expresses themselves through what they build while a lego technician follows the instructions and builds someone else's design.
Oh no! The mishap of posting your AW response as a restack! They honestly don't make this app very user friendly. It took me awhile to get it too. The sour dough starter hobby looks so fulfilling. I love baking bread, but have been intimidated by the sour doughs. I'm making focaccia today though! To answer you question, I envision a Technician as being more of a machine, and someone that does without much thought in asking why they are doing what they are doing. An artist always has a driving thought behind their tasks, even if that intent is, "I am going to create art without an intent."
And, Alexis, no need to be afraid of sourdough starter. I use it instead of or alongside bakers yeast. It mainly extends the shelf life of the bread and keeps it more moist. Normally I only feed my trusty 8-year old starter about once per month and keep it in the fridge (lower flavor, but also super low maintenance, only feeding it when I plan to bake bread).
"dating your sourdough..." this gave me a good chuckle. I have a starter in my fridge that I do my best to keep active enough, but much like you describe I am often overwhelmed by the time needed - and the specificity of when I need to do the steps - in following through with bread making. Quick breads are my jam. Maybe banana bread next week. ;)
I totally agree Bree. Sourdough starter was a 55+ thing, too many distractions prior to that age. Even so, over the weekend I spent my artist’s date learning to desiccate this new starter, so I won’t have to feed it again for YEARS if I don’t feel like it.
Great post and I love the vibrant imagery of your writing. I can almost imagine myself in the box contorting myself to avoid the rods, but only almost as I have never been that physically flexible. I also find the metaphor of how we contort ourselves just to breathe and survive within the box that we have been put in (or created for ourselves) to be incredibly powerful. It is something I have been thinking about personally and professionally, but also in a cultural context. We all need magic and miracles because that is where hope and inspiration arise from. Yet, I struggle to define and recognize the survival magic that I am already creating.
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Artists' Way
(1) Morning pages - managed to write every day, but this week it was difficult to step into the practice and ritual in a consistent manner. Yesterday the pages were started when I had a break between my morning meetings and completed before I went to bed last night.
(2) I had two artist dates this week. The first was intended as an artist date, but upon reflection it was.
- On Monday, I intentionally and almost completely disconnected from everything, and I took my dad's camera and went out to the coast with only a vague idea of what I was going to do. I visited a lighthouse (my parents loved them), went to beach and took pictures of the ocean, waves, and birds, and on the way back, I came across a weasel playing hide and seek. After that I went to a brewpub where I had about 70 birds watching the beer garden from the power lines, took a hike, enjoyed a sunset, and finished the day at a wine and cheese. The silence and tranquility were powerful, and from the multitudes of photos I shot, I found some beautiful ones (https://www.instagram.com/p/DFKCkOMxBX_/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==).
(3) I did not complete any of the tasks this week, but I do want to go back and tackle some.
(4) I alluded to risk undertaken in my opening paragraph. Lots of introspection on what would be fulfilling professionally and personally. But the real risk was trying to give myself the freedom to focus on the "what" would be fulfilling rather than getting bogged down in either the "why" does this matter or "how" are you going to make this work. To paraphrase/adapt something Michelle shared in a note this week, seeking the thing we need to do to sustain us is a vulnerable journey.
The news article about Poseidon was so funny; but also I hope I don't see it shared on social media as truth. lol Your post also made me want to have some wine and cheese. :)
I promise not to share it on social media even if I used Meta's AI tools to create it, and I certainly do not want to see it out on social media either. :)
I enjoyed your explorations and experiments with AI. Especially the air bnb room with the gorgeous Milky Way sky. Funny Lego detective things! And Poseidon lol, so fun. Reminds me of a kid playing with Power Rangers. So cute! 😄
Thank you for sharing Tom. I always love hearing about your dates and appreciate the links to some of the products of those dates. My favorite photo in the instagram collage is the bridge with one slat missing. So lifey.
7/7. I can't quite say I look forward to it every morning, rising earlier, but I am always glad I did it. I have time, and I am lucky that I have time, every morning. I have always wanted to shape up my mornings, at least from the morning pages I started going to bed earlier.
After the full moon artist walk, I started stepping out to take a look at where the moon was, then wrote morning pages. After writing, a few times, I didn't know what to do. Somedays, I just sat for a while (count for meditation even though not quite alert). Somedays, I couldn't wait to get on with breakfast.
I started thinking maybe I can use morning pages to bundle morning activities as my "morning bundle": moon check, morning pages, meditation, movement (mangiare!).
Artist Date--
Whitney. I don't know if I should pronounce H or not. I pronounce the H but I think It's mostly silent here. I thought about silent film. I had never seen one before, so I started searching on line. Who would know there's a title on YouTube called "Never Seen a Silent Film? Start Here". I started there. I chose to watch "One Week" 1920 by Buster Keaton.
Rule: no fussing with the TV remote during the film! Despite being an old film, I felt connected to the story, humor, and frustration of "One Week". It was entertaining, and fit my short attention span before the repeating background music started becoming a distraction. I wonder how it was like seeing a silent film in the theater.
Tasks--
--I did the exercise on completing the 20 sentences on P.73, Detective work.
--I did the tasks on childhood room, traits, accomplishments, habits, and nurturing friends. Describing childhood seems easier for me.
Risks taken this week--
I didn't think this was much of a risk, but commenting on other people's writing and comments makes me a bit uncomfortable. This week especially talking more about myself to Alexis (hula) and Whitney (keeping warm) felt going out more of my comfort zone.
Pauline, you are right - I feel it too. Had not put into words the risky feeling of commenting in a personal way about other individuals’ posts and responses. Thank you for articulating that. Thanks also for the silent film date idea.
[About the H: The H is silent, but modifies the W a bit, so it is pronounced the same way you pronounce WH in “White”, but instead of a long i, use a short i (like the word “it”). Wh-it-knee; or however you pronounce Whitney Houston’s name is also fine.]
I love old films, and will have to look into the film you watched. I saw the silent film Metropolis which is said to be the first full length science fiction film in that genre. If you watch it, the themes are still so relatable to today's society about the division between rich and poor, and industrialism/technology(ism?).
I love the metaphors here! Detachment would probably be my magic power if I had to name one in order to survive.
AW Responses:
How did it go for you this week? Writing was more difficult for me when it came to the morning pages. I pick up my pen, and wonder what can I write. Today was different though. I told myself to just write and try not to think. Block the present voice from your head, and let the words and sentences fall, and the experience was exhilarating; I actually had butterflies in my stomach. This was definitely an "ah ha" moment - here is what the pages are meant to do. I was crying by the end of the third page today. It was a good cry though.
How many days this week did you do morning pages? How do you feel about this week compared to last week? This week went better I think. Last week, I felt more stuck and don't feel this way now.
How about your artist date? Will you share what you chose to do? I went to a La'au Lapa'au workshop in Honolulu. The workshop taught us about the plants in Hawaii, and how the Ancient Hawaiians used plants for medicinal purposes. The practice is very sacred, and was prohibited by the early missionary settlers. So we learned all the benefits of the Noni, Kukui, Ha'uoi plants, and many others. I went for a cultural learning experience, and found it really fun to touch and taste some of the plants.
Did you do any of the tasks? If so, which ones? Any discoveries there? I completed the childhood room, five traits, child hood accomplishments, and habits. The childhood room made me laugh because I thought about my Titanic posters with Leonardo DiCaprio! Also, the drawing on the walls. I can't believe my mother let us draw on the walls. I would have a fit if my kids did that. But maybe she let us draw on the walls because we were so dirt poor and couldn't afford to buy paper? I remembered also drawing on paper towels too. I also realized it wasn't a question I wanted to get into with my mother for fear of making her feel bad.
What risks have you taken this week? I would say my artist date was really a risk. Part of the questionnaire for the workshop asked if we were Native Hawaiian. So a quick google search revealed it may be considered disrespectful to practice Hawaiian Traditional Medicine without permission. So I sent the group an email before attending, and with total sincerity received a very welcoming reply. So I learned to take the risk, and you might just find a community that welcomes you.
Alexis, I have hope for my morning pages. I will clear my mind and channel an open pathway for words to flow. Thank you for the guidance.
Your La'au Lapa'au workshop sounded a lot like Ayurveda. Very interesting!! You'll have to share more with us. Hawaii has such a rich culture, I miss not embracing more of my Italian heritage, but it would make for a good artists date next week, so I'll look into it.
It is difficult to get out of my own way sometimes when writing the MP as well. I am glad you were able to allow the words to flow today in a way that was powerful for you.
This was a difficult week for EVERYTHING. Pages got done, but it was dirty. The past weeks everything flowed so easily; this week I felt like I was writing all the things that I've been struggling with in my head on repeat.
My Artist's Date was supposed to happen today but got derailed, I was going to go to AMOCA in Pomona and I threw my back out. Keep reading, I'll explain.
The tasks scared the s*#t out of me. I started writing thinking no big deal, but then as I was answering questions, or more accurately couldn't answer the questions, I realized I had blanked out most of my childhood. I couldn't picture my rooms because they held bad memories for me. I couldn't remember what treats I enjoyed because the shame tied to them. I couldn't even think of 5 childhood accomplishments; everyone had a negative attached to it. So, I paused and decided to take it up at a time where my mind was clearer, and I could focus on why these tasks brought so much pain. The good that came from the exercise this week, I am a damn good mother, I have created a safe and loving place for my children. Hard stop!
As for risks this week, I made a huge one and part of me feels my back going out had something to do with it, so I began to doubt my choice. My world has been filled with noise for a long time. There is always talk in my head and decisions to be made and paths to follow, many times I feel they are not mine. I am moving through life for everyone else. I have had skin cancer for years now, its manageable but puts my body through a lot. This last round caused more issues because my body said enough. I decided to listen and for 3 months I am taking a hiatus from my clients. I waited until yesterday to inform them and it was very difficult for me to do, they count on me, and I feel I disappointed them. I thought I would find some relief when I finally told everyone, but no such luck yet. It was a risk worth taking and I am only looking forward, but right now with a heavy heart.
Chapter 3, 'Recovering a Sense of Power' didn't resonate with me until I got into the tasks, then I understood. Risks are important. Delving deep is important. My art is important. Quoting the book, "Art brings things to light" (pg. 67), such truth.
Thank you for this safe space. I feel like such a complainer when I voice the things going on in my head, and what I need to do instead is embrace the warmth I'm feeling from all of you...and that it is okay.
I echo Deborah's response. There is nothing about this that sounded like complaining. You are gifting us with your experience of being in the hard. Thank you for honoring us with that. I am glad you are listening and responding to your body, mind, and spirit's needs for boundaries. It's okay to listen to those. You are doing hard things.
You're not a complainer for being authentic and bravely vulnerable (speaking of taking risks!). Thank you for the gift of your authentic truth. My heart goes out to you with all that this week's work brought up and the physical struggles you're experiencing in the present. Sending virtual hugs!
(Also: good for you for saying NO where you need to for this moment in your life. It's easy to feel guilty when we set boundaries where others would like more, but you have to take care of your own wellness first. Well done. You'll get back there when the time is right.)
Stepping aside the professional track can be one of the hardest things to do, what ever reason or who we feel might be disappointed. I had to get a different job after an extended hiatus (that had left me crying over who I was without the professional career with which I defined myself). But, my new employer simply said “No, we don’t have concerns about your time away from the profession. We see it as evidence that you come to us well rested and know how to take care of herself.”
It is inspiring to hear you were brave enough to create this time to care for yourself. No one, not even clients, will be disappointed to see you well rested and healthier.
I agree, they most likely will not be disappointed (even though typing that gives me hives). And for the record, this would be a great time for my clients to do the work themselves because they all can.
Thanks Janice, I am still feeling all the weird tinglies deciding to take the break. I feel like I have to fill my time with busyness. I’m sure this will settle down.
Brie, you are courageous telling us your struggle and visiting your childhood. At the end of your writing, you already sounded lighter and stronger. I hope your back gets better soon. AMOCA will still be there for your visit.
A friend (writer & editor I worked with) once told me that she believes I’m a better poet for “having gone off the deep end” a few times lol, suffering is great for art!!! I once wrote “I touch him in 3rd person, his paper skin receives my scars.” about my understanding of god or love or hope for a better future. God/dess has carried me through all my storms, ultimately. Just keep breathing and writing etc., sketching, doodling, painting, maybe some visual stuff? What colors are upsetting to you emotionally? Draw them. What colors bring you peace, comfort, safety and happiness? Draw them. Tape them to the wall or window for awhile. Validate yourself. You’re already in the next moment… just now. :) I know it’s corny but it works for me!
I sat with my morning pages 5 days this week. I’m usually happy to get up early and pick up my pen but these days, I need sleep. My body is begging for recovery zz’s. The stress, tension, fear, anger and dread of day demand deep death like sleep in order to get up and sludge through again each day. I am tired. I am not alone. WE are tired.
For my artist’s date,I dream. Dream of crossing over to the other side of life and falling in love with an angel. Embraced by their wings, I am safe. I am welcome. I too, have wings to fly.
Here,Love is a flavor on my tongue, a fragrance frolicking in the air. It is sand in my toes and the crashing of waves in my ears. Here, Love is god. A goddess. Eyes closed, I see a world that celebrates itself in its entirety. My angel locks their legs to my legs as we lay and interlaces their fingers with my fingers. Like braids in my hair we intertwine, safe in a world of our own design, in the world of my dreams, where love is without labels and qualifiers or finger pointing, where love is celebrated. No one questions what feathers nestle within our wings or what qualifies us to fly.
I raise my gaze to spread my wings but a heaviness confines me. I am numb. I am paralyzed. My dreamworld goes dark. I try to make words but my voice is vacant, my lips cant pull themselves apart. Muzzled. Trapped. My eyes draw their curtains. I awake to a world of fear, distrust, name calling and bullying where grown men behaving like schoolyard boys have taken over. Critical thinking is demonized. Freedom and justice for all… In the words of Idnigo Montoya, “I do not think it means what you think it means”.
No, this was no artist’s date. Just an attempt to gather my thoughts here, with you, my fellow word weavers.
I know this. I’ll keep trying. We need art and artists now, more than before.
I digress.
Tasks:
I began to describe my childhood room, and not unlike Brie, behind ruffled curtains and stuffed between my strawberry shortcake sheets were darker memories. The word Obedient along with its threats chanted within the pink and white walls as they closed in on my inner child. Obey… “Be obedient. This is righteous.”
I felt myself become small and afraid. My pigtails, too tight…Bible, too heavy.
It was dark. Dark, indeed but that’s where art is born, in the darkness…so I wrote and wrote and wrote until my inner child was no longer small and afraid. She was me. Bad ass Bruja. Feet planted firmly, heart open wide, I held my inner child and took away her fear.
Tamar, your dream is poignant and potent poetry. And while not technically an artist's data, it is beautiful art. Than you for sharing!
Your words are stunning in their vivid imagery and I can picture the intertwined bodies and the inner child who is no longer afraid, but standing tall with her feet firmly planted.
This is poetic, Tamar. And it sounds like your writing held your inner child until she could feel less afraid and take up more space. Thank you for this vulnerability.
AW Check In (then I’ll finish responding to the few posts from last week I haven’t gotten to yet and responding to this week’s posts and shares).
Real quick ftr this amount of structure and wildness in this group is a good pace for me and enough “Far Away, So Close” without being overly intense, so thank you to everyone’s unique contributions to our cohort and strengthening our practice through solidarity. I know our fellows in creative endeavor all over the world benefit from our practice and unitedness in purpose and spirit, whether or not we’re aware of it on a super conscious level. This matters. It matters to us individually and because we wouldn’t be here without Michelle’s wisdom, courage, and compassionate awareness. Every voice matters. I love Horton Hears a Who where the little Whos in Whoville shout “We are here!” so Horton can hear them. I know there’s big elephants that care about and hear each of us, whether Wenders’ Cassiel or Seuss’s Horton, we are supporting by compassionate angels who also love freedom and human rights and the wisdom that comes with learning to value these principles and consistently apply them in our society and political structure.
Every time we put the pen to paper or paintbrush to canvas or dress a baby for the day, we create a map through time with our actions and the patterns we create & co-create as a human family, I believe. A map for how to move forward in this difficult moment. We make maps on the ethers with our breath as time moves forward and our planet and galaxy spin through the universe, which I like to envision as the womb of a Great Mother. Kinda like in that Monty Python film, The Meaning of Life. We’re floating around in her belly, the earth. 🌎 We create paths for ourselves and others by doing, by being, by moving forward in time, building and rebuilding and adapting to find ourselves victorious over fear and tyranny, past, present and future. Even the fear of nature. Giving yourself a chance to do and be without judgement, to make mistakes and say “wrong” things is an aspect of emotional psychological spiritual freedom that we practice as creative humans, in my understanding. It’s ok to be emotional or detached, irrational or rational, bored/boring or playful. So I’m trying to let myself have this awesome headspace despite the chaos swirling around in our world. Our bodies are mortal; love is eternal; deep joy is eternal, despite momentary moods and circumstances. To keep that flow of joy, I write. I write all the contrasting scenes where my joy was nearly snuffed out to say: I survived this. I love, despite it all. I love myself, my sacred body vessel, my heart and mind, my ancestors, my progeny, my freedom. I love the power of my words. My family is threatened by my words. Truth heals me.
I am getting braver this week. Recognizing my unwillingness to make myself vulnerable to dynamics that break down my inner Diva 👩🎤 and selfcare and want to gaslight me with all this denial and lies about abuse in my family as if it didn’t really happen. The insanity of denying truths, even when they’re painful to accept. The utter insanity. Human suffering that, when denied, leads to more human suffering. Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water; after enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
Possible triggers (lost pregnancy, sexual abuse, incest, abortion)-
Chop wood, carry water. My mother and I repeat this to ourselves and each other often. Whether or not we’re in agreement about what’s real or what’s valuable and what’s not. She puts the man she’s with above everyone, no matter how abusive he is. 🎶 “Stand by your man” 🎵 Chop wood, carry water.
She denies and blames, says cliché things to hurt me that she knows are wrong and hurtful (you shouldn’t have worn that skirt) when I come to her for validation and support. I can only rely on god (according to my own unique private understandings) and rock and roll. Bono singing “it’s alright, it’s alright” & “hold onto love, love won’t let you go” & “come back above, where there is only love”. Annie Lennox’s Brand New Day.
Pregnant in high school senior year with a baby that might’ve been my dad’s. I slept with my guy friends to hide the possibility from myself and when my first psychiatrist offered me an antidepressant I jumped at the chance for relief from my suffering. He asked if I was pregnant. I honestly didn’t realize I was then. I convinced myself that my new powers of sensitivity to smell, aversion to food and vomiting had to do with reading Anne Rice books and letting myself believe maybe I could become a vampire. 🧛♀️ Maybe this was the “deathing” vampires experienced when they died to their own mortality. I took my prescription pills on time and at about 10 weeks I lost the baby in the toilet at home. I didn’t believe it was possible so it didn’t seem real, same with the incest. What a nightmare of demons and confusion and pain and anger and oppression and chaos and hated was leveled at me by the men that abused me, my father and his friend, their friends, unbeknownst to them even. I only told my best friend a couple weeks or years later, when she shared that she had had to get an abortion.
I survived by making up my own words to the Eurhythmics to sing along with Annie. I wrote my own version of lyrics that expressed my brushes with love, my crushes and emotional struggles with a father unconsciously bent on destroying the evidence of his sexuality: me. I once told my big sister, recently within the last few years, that my dad tried to kill me with his d. it was all about violence, control, dominion. Looking for any reason to try to break my will. Breathe wrong. Don’t use a cutting board and risk dulling his precious culinary knives by slicing a lemon on the corner of the sink.
I did Pages every day this week except yesterday (watching news a lot right now to keep up with changes and share status reports to my loved ones.) It’s bringing me back to life! It’s like magic but more like science! I write, my mind heals.
My Artists date this week was awesome and so nourishing to my soul. I really value the art, mind, and films of David Lynch. Losing the opportunity to see new work from him leaves the world a colder, less compassionate and less intriguing space. I’m grieving for him and several other poet and musician friends and collaborators I lost recently. I watched (& own) Twin Peaks, Season 1 and I’m almost done with Season 2. I’m revisiting his old work and discovering many items I missed seeing over the years. Kyle MacLachlan’s character Special Agent Dale Cooper says at the end, (paraphrasing), “And yet as strange as the events around Laura Palmer’s demise have been, there’s nothing stranger than a man raping and killing his own daughter.” There but for the grace of god, go I…
Also I picked up some cheap crystal lamps with multi colored lights for fun, made more Ghirardelli brownies (from a mix), watched Twin Peaks, and drank very cold seltzer water. This will continue this week, I expect.
Since my first run with AW in the mid-1990s, I’ve earned an art history undergraduate degree in 2017 (by the skin of my teeth and thx to disability adaptations) and studied writing through local colleges and writer’s conferences, but I struggle to make sense to anyone in a world so frighteningly devoid of reason and equality and truth. That’s why I want to do my part to leave a map of compassion for myself and others, to speak hard truths and seek joy and safety and health and safety and rest and peace and solace. Writing helps me sharpen my injured mind. I learn my way around my own defenses and get loving kindness into my thoughts and heart and out to those I love like breath and water.
I know I need to get my life story on my pages, but it somehow feels safer here. I’ll work on getting that safety in my pages too this week. As you can see, I’ve had excellent therapy and mental health care most of my adult life as needed (more on than off). I enjoy & appreciative the support. I’m so grateful and hope others enjoy reduced suffering in ways that support them best. But nothing replaces basic human kindness imo and I’m thankful everyone here seems kind so far! :) thank you for reading and listening to my tales of woe and triumph.
Thank you for being artists, writers, creators.
My thoughts are with everyone especially those affected by the ongoing fires in Southern California. If anyone needs safe(r) shelter (in Sacramento area) let me know, I can help facilitate that.
Hello all, I had to take a bit of a step back this week. It was one of those weeks where you feel like you are drinking out of a firehose, as every facet of life...work life, personal life, kids, parents, even the fun stuff, is all requiring just a little too much. I exit this week completely depleted. All of my artistic energy was spent on creating a funeral program for my grandfather and writing and re-writing everyone else's memorial musings because I am the only one that "knows how to write." There was a day that the thought of Morning Pages drove me to tears. I thought, well if Morning Pages are too much, at least I can do my Artist's Date. I made plans, made the drive, and pulled up only to find that it was closed. It felt like the last tiny straw on my weary camel's back. Instead of breaking, I enlisted the help of dear friends who are also in this group. Together we got on a call and I spent several minutes withholding nothing in terms of my frustrations with the feeling that everything in my life is screaming to be a priority. Over the ensuing hour they lent listening ears, gave me their feedback and ideas, and a space to be completely vulnerable.
Only three weeks in and the thought of not doing this "right" is driving me insane. I can spend time wishing that things were different. That this writing group started at a different time, that my life didn't explode all at once, that I had the tenacity and dedication to stick to the program despite it all, but that isn't reality. So, here I am three weeks in, grateful to my friends that are helping me to get back on track and appreciative of this community for giving me space to be accountable, even when that looks like admitting defeat. So, tomorrow is new. I have placed my notebook on my bedside table with my favorite pen and have Artist's Way queued up on Audible, as I know my best chance at success is by listening to it in the mad dash from cheerleading to soccer practice or in the pick up line. And that is what I have to give. It is my hope that this process helps fill my cup just enough that I can pour just a little bit more out in the coming week.
Meg, thank you for being here and telling us your story. I don't know if there's a "right" way of doing right. Consider you're filling your cup quite early and triumphantly, I wouldn't have dared to fill creativity while juggling work, kids, and parents. You are brave and you are a writer!
Meg, there is no doing this right...there is only doing this for you, with what you are able to now. You have so much on your plate, both practically and emotionally. I hope you can give yourself both compassion for the limits and the space you might need for you.
I did morning pages, and probably my biggest aha moment was to notice that after a particularly bad night to morning when I encountered a particularly bad bout of eating something, I shouldn’t God knows what I have so many food sensitivities and intolerances. It’s pretty frustrating….. but the next morning my handwriting was erratic, and there were a lot of cross outs. When my stomach is calm, my brain is calm and I write in lines and complete sentences. That’s a huge incentive to keep a food diary and to continue to notice.
Another aha moment was that in the past when I’ve known, I should eat something I eat it anyway and now that I’ve seen on the page this direct connection. I’ll take better care of myself.
A dear friend of mine, Anne Chabre, passed around the holidays and back in the day when I made jewelry nonstop for about 10 years, she was my best client, showing off her long neck with my best chandelier earrings and finding artistic focal points and giving them to me as a commission and challenge to create something for her. Her daughters had delivered her entire collection to me for cleaning and repair, and I was able to restore the collection to its original beauty. It was particularly gratifying because through acupuncture my hands have gotten a lot better and I can do work that I couldn’t do a few years ago. So my artist’s date was to spend the time with my jewelry tools, re-creating and restoring these beautiful pieces.
In terms of the check in: I did the MPs every day. I did the artist’s date earlier in the week and already described it (the Dylan experience with A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall). I have my next artist’s date planned out: I will get out my pastels and drawing paper that I have touched once in probably 25 years and see what comes out. I did most of the tasks. I see how I sabotage myself. I have a rebellious streak, even though I was a “good girl” and a “good student” and a “good stable career worker”. In terms of being “brave”, I think it is brave to read The Artist’s Way and do the exercises. I also think it is brave to write. I have been jotting down ideas and plots and story lines and reading, but not actually producing much in terms of writing. I took a big step this week with writing and it will require more bravery to continue to a finished product.
I completed the morning pages all but one day this week. I am loving this exercise. I have received overwhelming patience and support from the loved ones in my home, which aids in making it feel positive. My morning pages read like part journal, part confessional, and part creative musings. I have taken to dog-earing pages that might have some creative insights and leaving the rest to never be revisited.
I attended a local poetry reading for my artist’s date. I will be doing this again. As it turns out, I quite enjoy doing things by myself and I am inspired listening to other people share their work. Doing something I had never done also felt like a risk this week. This activity counted as double.
I gave a couple of the tasks this week a whirl. The one that I was most struck by his listing my habits. It was illuminating to see the automatic thoughts that rob opportunity for expansive and creating thinking. I found a helpful redirection for one such automatic thought that has proven to be highly useful when I encounter it.
I'm buoyed by reading these conversations. Chop wood, carry water. Thank you, Keely for reminding us how much we need each other and how to go back to the real work of the world.
How did I feel about pages this week? Some days really flowed but I have been sick and so it was hard to write pages when exhausted and feeling unwell.
Artist date? I took myself to lunch at the bar counter of a restaurant in my town. They have the best hot sauce I have ever tasted. I ate a giant buttermilk biscuit with basil blueberry jam and drank lots of coffee in a smooth cream colored diner mug. I was reading and underlining what I was reading so the man sitting next to me asked if I was a student. I ended up chatting with him and learning about his life and when he moved to town. He introduced me to the waitress who told me about her life and when she started working at the restaurant 14 years earlier. It was delightful.
Did I do any tasks? Childhood questions were not where I wanted to look and not productive or fruitful for me this week, so for tasks I focused on friends: who are the people who lift me up and why? Who does the opposite? How can I protect my time from energy thieves and offer it up to the people who reflect the best of me back to myself in time spent together?
Any discoveries? “The antidote for shame is self-love and self-praise” from pg 71. Whole dealing with criticism section.
What risks have I taken this week? Being honest and open about the ways I have overbooked myself and what I am feeling afraid of. Allowing myself to pause before reacting or fixing something. Basically, the risk of trying things a new way and sitting in the discomfort of that, not trying to escape it.
I did not do the exercises, though I at least read the chapter last weekend.
I did not even get to reading Michelle's post (something I always relish) and all the responses until just now.
I have felt I was drowning this week between a few related things: the national changes, the weight of my own emotions in response, holding space for the fear and anger and despair of most of my clients, a very complicated and heartbreaking child abuse report, and then an unexpected flurry of online communication when a simple note I wrote on substack on Sunday went viral and led to hundreds of new subscribers, each of which I reached out to individually to say hello.
Did I do anything brave? This might not seem like much, but I struggle with deep ambivalence about my publicity - knowing the need for it as an author, the pressure from my agent, and loving privacy and fearing the scrutiny and potential backlash of the public. So while I didn't set out to write a viral note, I was brave enough to let it be and not delete it. (Not huge viral, but instead of 0-2 likes, it racked up 1400 and counting.) I have a tendency to back away when such things happen. Then, leaning into that space, I put up my first short video on Substack today, trying something new. So far that hasn't really gained traction but courage isn't about outcomes.
I feel no defiance in my lack of completion this week; I wish I had, but it simply didn't fit into this hard and full week. I will try to catch up on the exercises after I've caught up with the rest of last week's work.
What a week, indeed. It has been a lot to hold this week. Managing a public life must feel so terrifying. It is the scariest thing to me about being potentially successful at this endeavor. I think it is very brave to keep your note out there when the anxiety started to build. And then to lean in more, I am inspired.
I totally understand crying through morning pages (sometimes all-day pages for me). I always tell friends, cry it out. Tears release toxins built up from fear, stress, frustration, depression, despair, etc. All the feels. My late sister used to say “feeling is healing”- I think I’ve heard it in 12-step circles a bit, too. I love drawing on the walls. I’ve done it then painted over it. I like to tack up a canvas and gesso it then lay down a background color and painting with a huge (4” wide) brush flowers and trees and houses the way I enjoyed drawing as a kid with crayons too. In fact I have 3 full large boxes of Crayolas out to play with, I like to draw patterns from my Native American heritage, spirits and ideas I see in my mind’s eye. I miss the smell of wax as I write this. It’s calling me to color :)
Thank you for taking risk to walk a path of truth and integrity. So awesome, so vital, so beautiful!
Novice to Substack (and to all social media apps): I wrote a weekly check in this morning and appear to have lost the text. Instead it seems I posted the quote from the end of Michelle’s Friday message to the general population responses to her post. Innocuous enough, but now nervous about Substack and the potential for accidentally stepping onto a Substack roller-coaster.
Insipid rewritten check-in for Week 3:
1) yes, MP every day, not always in the morning. I totally fell asleep at the table while writing MP on Monday morning.
2) Artist’s Date (Week 3): created two new sourdough starters by feeding two batches of starter different types of flour (started this project last week, but starters were not mature in time to date them). For this week’s date I made two batches of bread, one made from each starter (overall, a 17-hour process, including the overnight fermentation). Result: spectacular looking bread, tastes delicious, and an interesting experiment: the starters smelled different and otherwise identical loaves smelled and tasted slightly different. The amount of total time the project took dampened my overall enthusiasm and the therapeutic value of this date. Better to stick to shorter projects for now.
3) Did tasks 2-5, but mostly spent my time this week dating my inner sourdough Artist and didn’t put as much effort into tasks (“you get out what you put in” applies). I will do #6 - call a nurturing friend - anticipating that will up the Task benefits.
4) Risks? Getting on Substack currently feels like the biggest risk of the month, although I finally unfollow all weird extraneous and raunchy copious message/email-sending “Stacks” that I unwittingly got enrolled in the first day (does not apply to anyone in this Artist’s Way project - I should follow MORE of you). Additional risk: I called my sister, a big talker-type, and obliged her to hear me out for a change (important family business).
Been thinking a lot about the difference between “artist” and “technician”. I feel like there is about 90% overlap, maybe more. What do you think differentiates the two?
That is a really deep question, and one I would not have thought to ask. I guess the tools are similar which is where the overlap is.
I think (or maybe I want to believe) that the artist's work is more creative, playful, and expressive while the technician's work is process and outcome oriented.
To use a simple example: a Lego artists creates something new and expresses themselves through what they build while a lego technician follows the instructions and builds someone else's design.
That’s a great analogy, Tom. And Whitney great question. The technician follows instructions. The artist creates instruction for the less intrepid.
Your sourdough date sounds wonderful though, the labor to get to the spectacular looking and delicious tasting bread.
Oh no! The mishap of posting your AW response as a restack! They honestly don't make this app very user friendly. It took me awhile to get it too. The sour dough starter hobby looks so fulfilling. I love baking bread, but have been intimidated by the sour doughs. I'm making focaccia today though! To answer you question, I envision a Technician as being more of a machine, and someone that does without much thought in asking why they are doing what they are doing. An artist always has a driving thought behind their tasks, even if that intent is, "I am going to create art without an intent."
And, Alexis, no need to be afraid of sourdough starter. I use it instead of or alongside bakers yeast. It mainly extends the shelf life of the bread and keeps it more moist. Normally I only feed my trusty 8-year old starter about once per month and keep it in the fridge (lower flavor, but also super low maintenance, only feeding it when I plan to bake bread).
It seems complicated and I’m not good at keeping things alive though. Maybe it’s a risk I could try soon. :)
I’ve been wondering about that “restack” icon and what it does….
"dating your sourdough..." this gave me a good chuckle. I have a starter in my fridge that I do my best to keep active enough, but much like you describe I am often overwhelmed by the time needed - and the specificity of when I need to do the steps - in following through with bread making. Quick breads are my jam. Maybe banana bread next week. ;)
I totally agree Bree. Sourdough starter was a 55+ thing, too many distractions prior to that age. Even so, over the weekend I spent my artist’s date learning to desiccate this new starter, so I won’t have to feed it again for YEARS if I don’t feel like it.
Great post and I love the vibrant imagery of your writing. I can almost imagine myself in the box contorting myself to avoid the rods, but only almost as I have never been that physically flexible. I also find the metaphor of how we contort ourselves just to breathe and survive within the box that we have been put in (or created for ourselves) to be incredibly powerful. It is something I have been thinking about personally and professionally, but also in a cultural context. We all need magic and miracles because that is where hope and inspiration arise from. Yet, I struggle to define and recognize the survival magic that I am already creating.
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Artists' Way
(1) Morning pages - managed to write every day, but this week it was difficult to step into the practice and ritual in a consistent manner. Yesterday the pages were started when I had a break between my morning meetings and completed before I went to bed last night.
(2) I had two artist dates this week. The first was intended as an artist date, but upon reflection it was.
- On Monday, I intentionally and almost completely disconnected from everything, and I took my dad's camera and went out to the coast with only a vague idea of what I was going to do. I visited a lighthouse (my parents loved them), went to beach and took pictures of the ocean, waves, and birds, and on the way back, I came across a weasel playing hide and seek. After that I went to a brewpub where I had about 70 birds watching the beer garden from the power lines, took a hike, enjoyed a sunset, and finished the day at a wine and cheese. The silence and tranquility were powerful, and from the multitudes of photos I shot, I found some beautiful ones (https://www.instagram.com/p/DFKCkOMxBX_/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==).
-On Wednesday, I took myself out to a wine bar in a nearby city (whose downtown I had never spent time in), and spent an hour or so playing with AI tools for image generation. I was pleasantly surprised by what I was able to generate with AI, and the accompanying text that I asked AI to generate made be genuinely chuckle at its humor: https://open.substack.com/pub/foolofatom/p/an-artist-date-with-ai?r=133ypt&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
(3) I did not complete any of the tasks this week, but I do want to go back and tackle some.
(4) I alluded to risk undertaken in my opening paragraph. Lots of introspection on what would be fulfilling professionally and personally. But the real risk was trying to give myself the freedom to focus on the "what" would be fulfilling rather than getting bogged down in either the "why" does this matter or "how" are you going to make this work. To paraphrase/adapt something Michelle shared in a note this week, seeking the thing we need to do to sustain us is a vulnerable journey.
You’re AI generated images on Insta or fabulous congratulations
What a fun artist date idea - to play with AI in under non threatening conditions and where it’s OK to laugh.
The news article about Poseidon was so funny; but also I hope I don't see it shared on social media as truth. lol Your post also made me want to have some wine and cheese. :)
I promise not to share it on social media even if I used Meta's AI tools to create it, and I certainly do not want to see it out on social media either. :)
It was delightful to live vicariously through your description of Monday’s unintentional artist date!
Hello Tom 👋
I enjoyed your explorations and experiments with AI. Especially the air bnb room with the gorgeous Milky Way sky. Funny Lego detective things! And Poseidon lol, so fun. Reminds me of a kid playing with Power Rangers. So cute! 😄
Thank you for sharing Tom. I always love hearing about your dates and appreciate the links to some of the products of those dates. My favorite photo in the instagram collage is the bridge with one slat missing. So lifey.
Hi fellow artists, Pauline checking in:
Morning pages--
7/7. I can't quite say I look forward to it every morning, rising earlier, but I am always glad I did it. I have time, and I am lucky that I have time, every morning. I have always wanted to shape up my mornings, at least from the morning pages I started going to bed earlier.
After the full moon artist walk, I started stepping out to take a look at where the moon was, then wrote morning pages. After writing, a few times, I didn't know what to do. Somedays, I just sat for a while (count for meditation even though not quite alert). Somedays, I couldn't wait to get on with breakfast.
I started thinking maybe I can use morning pages to bundle morning activities as my "morning bundle": moon check, morning pages, meditation, movement (mangiare!).
Artist Date--
Whitney. I don't know if I should pronounce H or not. I pronounce the H but I think It's mostly silent here. I thought about silent film. I had never seen one before, so I started searching on line. Who would know there's a title on YouTube called "Never Seen a Silent Film? Start Here". I started there. I chose to watch "One Week" 1920 by Buster Keaton.
Rule: no fussing with the TV remote during the film! Despite being an old film, I felt connected to the story, humor, and frustration of "One Week". It was entertaining, and fit my short attention span before the repeating background music started becoming a distraction. I wonder how it was like seeing a silent film in the theater.
Tasks--
--I did the exercise on completing the 20 sentences on P.73, Detective work.
--I did the tasks on childhood room, traits, accomplishments, habits, and nurturing friends. Describing childhood seems easier for me.
Risks taken this week--
I didn't think this was much of a risk, but commenting on other people's writing and comments makes me a bit uncomfortable. This week especially talking more about myself to Alexis (hula) and Whitney (keeping warm) felt going out more of my comfort zone.
Thank you.
I love the title 'morning bundle', it sounds so warm and comforting.
How fun would it be to see a silent film in the theater; I bet it's out there somewhere.
One can munch on popcorn without missing any conversations.
Pauline, you are right - I feel it too. Had not put into words the risky feeling of commenting in a personal way about other individuals’ posts and responses. Thank you for articulating that. Thanks also for the silent film date idea.
[About the H: The H is silent, but modifies the W a bit, so it is pronounced the same way you pronounce WH in “White”, but instead of a long i, use a short i (like the word “it”). Wh-it-knee; or however you pronounce Whitney Houston’s name is also fine.]
Whitney thank you for your comment!
I love old films, and will have to look into the film you watched. I saw the silent film Metropolis which is said to be the first full length science fiction film in that genre. If you watch it, the themes are still so relatable to today's society about the division between rich and poor, and industrialism/technology(ism?).
Thank you, Alexis. Put Metropolis on my list to watch, 2 1/2 hrs long of a silent film.
I love the metaphors here! Detachment would probably be my magic power if I had to name one in order to survive.
AW Responses:
How did it go for you this week? Writing was more difficult for me when it came to the morning pages. I pick up my pen, and wonder what can I write. Today was different though. I told myself to just write and try not to think. Block the present voice from your head, and let the words and sentences fall, and the experience was exhilarating; I actually had butterflies in my stomach. This was definitely an "ah ha" moment - here is what the pages are meant to do. I was crying by the end of the third page today. It was a good cry though.
How many days this week did you do morning pages? How do you feel about this week compared to last week? This week went better I think. Last week, I felt more stuck and don't feel this way now.
How about your artist date? Will you share what you chose to do? I went to a La'au Lapa'au workshop in Honolulu. The workshop taught us about the plants in Hawaii, and how the Ancient Hawaiians used plants for medicinal purposes. The practice is very sacred, and was prohibited by the early missionary settlers. So we learned all the benefits of the Noni, Kukui, Ha'uoi plants, and many others. I went for a cultural learning experience, and found it really fun to touch and taste some of the plants.
Did you do any of the tasks? If so, which ones? Any discoveries there? I completed the childhood room, five traits, child hood accomplishments, and habits. The childhood room made me laugh because I thought about my Titanic posters with Leonardo DiCaprio! Also, the drawing on the walls. I can't believe my mother let us draw on the walls. I would have a fit if my kids did that. But maybe she let us draw on the walls because we were so dirt poor and couldn't afford to buy paper? I remembered also drawing on paper towels too. I also realized it wasn't a question I wanted to get into with my mother for fear of making her feel bad.
What risks have you taken this week? I would say my artist date was really a risk. Part of the questionnaire for the workshop asked if we were Native Hawaiian. So a quick google search revealed it may be considered disrespectful to practice Hawaiian Traditional Medicine without permission. So I sent the group an email before attending, and with total sincerity received a very welcoming reply. So I learned to take the risk, and you might just find a community that welcomes you.
Alexis, I have hope for my morning pages. I will clear my mind and channel an open pathway for words to flow. Thank you for the guidance.
Your La'au Lapa'au workshop sounded a lot like Ayurveda. Very interesting!! You'll have to share more with us. Hawaii has such a rich culture, I miss not embracing more of my Italian heritage, but it would make for a good artists date next week, so I'll look into it.
Italians have a rich culture too! I think that is a good idea for your next date. :)
It is difficult to get out of my own way sometimes when writing the MP as well. I am glad you were able to allow the words to flow today in a way that was powerful for you.
Alexis, how you approach your cultural artist date to experience and appreciate Hawaiian medicinal plants is so wonderful.
Disclaimer: Complete downer post!
This was a difficult week for EVERYTHING. Pages got done, but it was dirty. The past weeks everything flowed so easily; this week I felt like I was writing all the things that I've been struggling with in my head on repeat.
My Artist's Date was supposed to happen today but got derailed, I was going to go to AMOCA in Pomona and I threw my back out. Keep reading, I'll explain.
The tasks scared the s*#t out of me. I started writing thinking no big deal, but then as I was answering questions, or more accurately couldn't answer the questions, I realized I had blanked out most of my childhood. I couldn't picture my rooms because they held bad memories for me. I couldn't remember what treats I enjoyed because the shame tied to them. I couldn't even think of 5 childhood accomplishments; everyone had a negative attached to it. So, I paused and decided to take it up at a time where my mind was clearer, and I could focus on why these tasks brought so much pain. The good that came from the exercise this week, I am a damn good mother, I have created a safe and loving place for my children. Hard stop!
As for risks this week, I made a huge one and part of me feels my back going out had something to do with it, so I began to doubt my choice. My world has been filled with noise for a long time. There is always talk in my head and decisions to be made and paths to follow, many times I feel they are not mine. I am moving through life for everyone else. I have had skin cancer for years now, its manageable but puts my body through a lot. This last round caused more issues because my body said enough. I decided to listen and for 3 months I am taking a hiatus from my clients. I waited until yesterday to inform them and it was very difficult for me to do, they count on me, and I feel I disappointed them. I thought I would find some relief when I finally told everyone, but no such luck yet. It was a risk worth taking and I am only looking forward, but right now with a heavy heart.
Chapter 3, 'Recovering a Sense of Power' didn't resonate with me until I got into the tasks, then I understood. Risks are important. Delving deep is important. My art is important. Quoting the book, "Art brings things to light" (pg. 67), such truth.
Brie. This is what we’re here for. Exactly this. Thank you for your vulnerability, your courage, your risk-taking and growth. You got this.
Thank you for this safe space. I feel like such a complainer when I voice the things going on in my head, and what I need to do instead is embrace the warmth I'm feeling from all of you...and that it is okay.
I echo Deborah's response. There is nothing about this that sounded like complaining. You are gifting us with your experience of being in the hard. Thank you for honoring us with that. I am glad you are listening and responding to your body, mind, and spirit's needs for boundaries. It's okay to listen to those. You are doing hard things.
You're not a complainer for being authentic and bravely vulnerable (speaking of taking risks!). Thank you for the gift of your authentic truth. My heart goes out to you with all that this week's work brought up and the physical struggles you're experiencing in the present. Sending virtual hugs!
(Also: good for you for saying NO where you need to for this moment in your life. It's easy to feel guilty when we set boundaries where others would like more, but you have to take care of your own wellness first. Well done. You'll get back there when the time is right.)
So much care and support for you! Thank you for sharing this journey. ♥️
Stepping aside the professional track can be one of the hardest things to do, what ever reason or who we feel might be disappointed. I had to get a different job after an extended hiatus (that had left me crying over who I was without the professional career with which I defined myself). But, my new employer simply said “No, we don’t have concerns about your time away from the profession. We see it as evidence that you come to us well rested and know how to take care of herself.”
It is inspiring to hear you were brave enough to create this time to care for yourself. No one, not even clients, will be disappointed to see you well rested and healthier.
I agree, they most likely will not be disappointed (even though typing that gives me hives). And for the record, this would be a great time for my clients to do the work themselves because they all can.
I probably don't have words that would make this week feel any easier or better for you, but I have virtual hugs! (virtual hug)
Keep going - struggling is part of your growth.
Yes + 1 for sharing your vulnerability. I know that I need to start delving deep, and I hope your story will be an inspiration for me to push myself
I know it's where the growth is, but dang if it isn't hard (cue crying).
Yeah this whole getting out of your comfort zone is damn uncomfortable!
It’s so frickin hard. Good work. If there’s self-comfort options definitely use the mostly healthy or harmless ones.
Brie, have courage and never apologize for publishing a downer. That simply means you’re brave and honest.
I’m so proud of you for taking three months hiatus from your clients good for you and you will be better and stronger for it . Hugs
Thanks Janice, I am still feeling all the weird tinglies deciding to take the break. I feel like I have to fill my time with busyness. I’m sure this will settle down.
Plus, I drop heavy tales of burdens I’ve born here, and felt my load lightened- I hope you feel the care.
Brie, you are courageous telling us your struggle and visiting your childhood. At the end of your writing, you already sounded lighter and stronger. I hope your back gets better soon. AMOCA will still be there for your visit.
Appreciate and relate to your struggles this week, Brie. Thank you for sharing 🙏🏼
A friend (writer & editor I worked with) once told me that she believes I’m a better poet for “having gone off the deep end” a few times lol, suffering is great for art!!! I once wrote “I touch him in 3rd person, his paper skin receives my scars.” about my understanding of god or love or hope for a better future. God/dess has carried me through all my storms, ultimately. Just keep breathing and writing etc., sketching, doodling, painting, maybe some visual stuff? What colors are upsetting to you emotionally? Draw them. What colors bring you peace, comfort, safety and happiness? Draw them. Tape them to the wall or window for awhile. Validate yourself. You’re already in the next moment… just now. :) I know it’s corny but it works for me!
I sat with my morning pages 5 days this week. I’m usually happy to get up early and pick up my pen but these days, I need sleep. My body is begging for recovery zz’s. The stress, tension, fear, anger and dread of day demand deep death like sleep in order to get up and sludge through again each day. I am tired. I am not alone. WE are tired.
For my artist’s date,I dream. Dream of crossing over to the other side of life and falling in love with an angel. Embraced by their wings, I am safe. I am welcome. I too, have wings to fly.
Here,Love is a flavor on my tongue, a fragrance frolicking in the air. It is sand in my toes and the crashing of waves in my ears. Here, Love is god. A goddess. Eyes closed, I see a world that celebrates itself in its entirety. My angel locks their legs to my legs as we lay and interlaces their fingers with my fingers. Like braids in my hair we intertwine, safe in a world of our own design, in the world of my dreams, where love is without labels and qualifiers or finger pointing, where love is celebrated. No one questions what feathers nestle within our wings or what qualifies us to fly.
I raise my gaze to spread my wings but a heaviness confines me. I am numb. I am paralyzed. My dreamworld goes dark. I try to make words but my voice is vacant, my lips cant pull themselves apart. Muzzled. Trapped. My eyes draw their curtains. I awake to a world of fear, distrust, name calling and bullying where grown men behaving like schoolyard boys have taken over. Critical thinking is demonized. Freedom and justice for all… In the words of Idnigo Montoya, “I do not think it means what you think it means”.
No, this was no artist’s date. Just an attempt to gather my thoughts here, with you, my fellow word weavers.
I know this. I’ll keep trying. We need art and artists now, more than before.
I digress.
Tasks:
I began to describe my childhood room, and not unlike Brie, behind ruffled curtains and stuffed between my strawberry shortcake sheets were darker memories. The word Obedient along with its threats chanted within the pink and white walls as they closed in on my inner child. Obey… “Be obedient. This is righteous.”
I felt myself become small and afraid. My pigtails, too tight…Bible, too heavy.
It was dark. Dark, indeed but that’s where art is born, in the darkness…so I wrote and wrote and wrote until my inner child was no longer small and afraid. She was me. Bad ass Bruja. Feet planted firmly, heart open wide, I held my inner child and took away her fear.
Therapy.
What risks have I taken?
Ah, another good question…
I’ll come back for that.
Tamar, your dream is poignant and potent poetry. And while not technically an artist's data, it is beautiful art. Than you for sharing!
Your words are stunning in their vivid imagery and I can picture the intertwined bodies and the inner child who is no longer afraid, but standing tall with her feet firmly planted.
Than you for sharing your art!
Tamar, you have weaved a beautiful tapestry here with your words and your love.
This is poetic, Tamar. And it sounds like your writing held your inner child until she could feel less afraid and take up more space. Thank you for this vulnerability.
So eloquently written. I feel this deeply with you, friend. Thank you for putting it into words.
AW Check In (then I’ll finish responding to the few posts from last week I haven’t gotten to yet and responding to this week’s posts and shares).
Real quick ftr this amount of structure and wildness in this group is a good pace for me and enough “Far Away, So Close” without being overly intense, so thank you to everyone’s unique contributions to our cohort and strengthening our practice through solidarity. I know our fellows in creative endeavor all over the world benefit from our practice and unitedness in purpose and spirit, whether or not we’re aware of it on a super conscious level. This matters. It matters to us individually and because we wouldn’t be here without Michelle’s wisdom, courage, and compassionate awareness. Every voice matters. I love Horton Hears a Who where the little Whos in Whoville shout “We are here!” so Horton can hear them. I know there’s big elephants that care about and hear each of us, whether Wenders’ Cassiel or Seuss’s Horton, we are supporting by compassionate angels who also love freedom and human rights and the wisdom that comes with learning to value these principles and consistently apply them in our society and political structure.
Every time we put the pen to paper or paintbrush to canvas or dress a baby for the day, we create a map through time with our actions and the patterns we create & co-create as a human family, I believe. A map for how to move forward in this difficult moment. We make maps on the ethers with our breath as time moves forward and our planet and galaxy spin through the universe, which I like to envision as the womb of a Great Mother. Kinda like in that Monty Python film, The Meaning of Life. We’re floating around in her belly, the earth. 🌎 We create paths for ourselves and others by doing, by being, by moving forward in time, building and rebuilding and adapting to find ourselves victorious over fear and tyranny, past, present and future. Even the fear of nature. Giving yourself a chance to do and be without judgement, to make mistakes and say “wrong” things is an aspect of emotional psychological spiritual freedom that we practice as creative humans, in my understanding. It’s ok to be emotional or detached, irrational or rational, bored/boring or playful. So I’m trying to let myself have this awesome headspace despite the chaos swirling around in our world. Our bodies are mortal; love is eternal; deep joy is eternal, despite momentary moods and circumstances. To keep that flow of joy, I write. I write all the contrasting scenes where my joy was nearly snuffed out to say: I survived this. I love, despite it all. I love myself, my sacred body vessel, my heart and mind, my ancestors, my progeny, my freedom. I love the power of my words. My family is threatened by my words. Truth heals me.
I am getting braver this week. Recognizing my unwillingness to make myself vulnerable to dynamics that break down my inner Diva 👩🎤 and selfcare and want to gaslight me with all this denial and lies about abuse in my family as if it didn’t really happen. The insanity of denying truths, even when they’re painful to accept. The utter insanity. Human suffering that, when denied, leads to more human suffering. Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water; after enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
Possible triggers (lost pregnancy, sexual abuse, incest, abortion)-
Chop wood, carry water. My mother and I repeat this to ourselves and each other often. Whether or not we’re in agreement about what’s real or what’s valuable and what’s not. She puts the man she’s with above everyone, no matter how abusive he is. 🎶 “Stand by your man” 🎵 Chop wood, carry water.
She denies and blames, says cliché things to hurt me that she knows are wrong and hurtful (you shouldn’t have worn that skirt) when I come to her for validation and support. I can only rely on god (according to my own unique private understandings) and rock and roll. Bono singing “it’s alright, it’s alright” & “hold onto love, love won’t let you go” & “come back above, where there is only love”. Annie Lennox’s Brand New Day.
Pregnant in high school senior year with a baby that might’ve been my dad’s. I slept with my guy friends to hide the possibility from myself and when my first psychiatrist offered me an antidepressant I jumped at the chance for relief from my suffering. He asked if I was pregnant. I honestly didn’t realize I was then. I convinced myself that my new powers of sensitivity to smell, aversion to food and vomiting had to do with reading Anne Rice books and letting myself believe maybe I could become a vampire. 🧛♀️ Maybe this was the “deathing” vampires experienced when they died to their own mortality. I took my prescription pills on time and at about 10 weeks I lost the baby in the toilet at home. I didn’t believe it was possible so it didn’t seem real, same with the incest. What a nightmare of demons and confusion and pain and anger and oppression and chaos and hated was leveled at me by the men that abused me, my father and his friend, their friends, unbeknownst to them even. I only told my best friend a couple weeks or years later, when she shared that she had had to get an abortion.
I survived by making up my own words to the Eurhythmics to sing along with Annie. I wrote my own version of lyrics that expressed my brushes with love, my crushes and emotional struggles with a father unconsciously bent on destroying the evidence of his sexuality: me. I once told my big sister, recently within the last few years, that my dad tried to kill me with his d. it was all about violence, control, dominion. Looking for any reason to try to break my will. Breathe wrong. Don’t use a cutting board and risk dulling his precious culinary knives by slicing a lemon on the corner of the sink.
I did Pages every day this week except yesterday (watching news a lot right now to keep up with changes and share status reports to my loved ones.) It’s bringing me back to life! It’s like magic but more like science! I write, my mind heals.
My Artists date this week was awesome and so nourishing to my soul. I really value the art, mind, and films of David Lynch. Losing the opportunity to see new work from him leaves the world a colder, less compassionate and less intriguing space. I’m grieving for him and several other poet and musician friends and collaborators I lost recently. I watched (& own) Twin Peaks, Season 1 and I’m almost done with Season 2. I’m revisiting his old work and discovering many items I missed seeing over the years. Kyle MacLachlan’s character Special Agent Dale Cooper says at the end, (paraphrasing), “And yet as strange as the events around Laura Palmer’s demise have been, there’s nothing stranger than a man raping and killing his own daughter.” There but for the grace of god, go I…
Also I picked up some cheap crystal lamps with multi colored lights for fun, made more Ghirardelli brownies (from a mix), watched Twin Peaks, and drank very cold seltzer water. This will continue this week, I expect.
Since my first run with AW in the mid-1990s, I’ve earned an art history undergraduate degree in 2017 (by the skin of my teeth and thx to disability adaptations) and studied writing through local colleges and writer’s conferences, but I struggle to make sense to anyone in a world so frighteningly devoid of reason and equality and truth. That’s why I want to do my part to leave a map of compassion for myself and others, to speak hard truths and seek joy and safety and health and safety and rest and peace and solace. Writing helps me sharpen my injured mind. I learn my way around my own defenses and get loving kindness into my thoughts and heart and out to those I love like breath and water.
I know I need to get my life story on my pages, but it somehow feels safer here. I’ll work on getting that safety in my pages too this week. As you can see, I’ve had excellent therapy and mental health care most of my adult life as needed (more on than off). I enjoy & appreciative the support. I’m so grateful and hope others enjoy reduced suffering in ways that support them best. But nothing replaces basic human kindness imo and I’m thankful everyone here seems kind so far! :) thank you for reading and listening to my tales of woe and triumph.
Thank you for being artists, writers, creators.
My thoughts are with everyone especially those affected by the ongoing fires in Southern California. If anyone needs safe(r) shelter (in Sacramento area) let me know, I can help facilitate that.
Thank you for this, Keely.
We hear you, Keely! Yes, this space is a pool of human kindness.
You have a piece here to fit in your map of compassion.
Thank you for sharing with us, Keely.
Thank you for your vulnerable sharing.
Hello all, I had to take a bit of a step back this week. It was one of those weeks where you feel like you are drinking out of a firehose, as every facet of life...work life, personal life, kids, parents, even the fun stuff, is all requiring just a little too much. I exit this week completely depleted. All of my artistic energy was spent on creating a funeral program for my grandfather and writing and re-writing everyone else's memorial musings because I am the only one that "knows how to write." There was a day that the thought of Morning Pages drove me to tears. I thought, well if Morning Pages are too much, at least I can do my Artist's Date. I made plans, made the drive, and pulled up only to find that it was closed. It felt like the last tiny straw on my weary camel's back. Instead of breaking, I enlisted the help of dear friends who are also in this group. Together we got on a call and I spent several minutes withholding nothing in terms of my frustrations with the feeling that everything in my life is screaming to be a priority. Over the ensuing hour they lent listening ears, gave me their feedback and ideas, and a space to be completely vulnerable.
Only three weeks in and the thought of not doing this "right" is driving me insane. I can spend time wishing that things were different. That this writing group started at a different time, that my life didn't explode all at once, that I had the tenacity and dedication to stick to the program despite it all, but that isn't reality. So, here I am three weeks in, grateful to my friends that are helping me to get back on track and appreciative of this community for giving me space to be accountable, even when that looks like admitting defeat. So, tomorrow is new. I have placed my notebook on my bedside table with my favorite pen and have Artist's Way queued up on Audible, as I know my best chance at success is by listening to it in the mad dash from cheerleading to soccer practice or in the pick up line. And that is what I have to give. It is my hope that this process helps fill my cup just enough that I can pour just a little bit more out in the coming week.
Meg, so glad you were able to harness your difficult week’s emotions and from them form the spirit you needed to check-in here.
Meg, thank you for being here and telling us your story. I don't know if there's a "right" way of doing right. Consider you're filling your cup quite early and triumphantly, I wouldn't have dared to fill creativity while juggling work, kids, and parents. You are brave and you are a writer!
Meg, there is no doing this right...there is only doing this for you, with what you are able to now. You have so much on your plate, both practically and emotionally. I hope you can give yourself both compassion for the limits and the space you might need for you.
such a heavy week. Sincere condolences on the loss of your grandfather. May his service be a comfort to you and yours.
I did morning pages, and probably my biggest aha moment was to notice that after a particularly bad night to morning when I encountered a particularly bad bout of eating something, I shouldn’t God knows what I have so many food sensitivities and intolerances. It’s pretty frustrating….. but the next morning my handwriting was erratic, and there were a lot of cross outs. When my stomach is calm, my brain is calm and I write in lines and complete sentences. That’s a huge incentive to keep a food diary and to continue to notice.
Another aha moment was that in the past when I’ve known, I should eat something I eat it anyway and now that I’ve seen on the page this direct connection. I’ll take better care of myself.
A dear friend of mine, Anne Chabre, passed around the holidays and back in the day when I made jewelry nonstop for about 10 years, she was my best client, showing off her long neck with my best chandelier earrings and finding artistic focal points and giving them to me as a commission and challenge to create something for her. Her daughters had delivered her entire collection to me for cleaning and repair, and I was able to restore the collection to its original beauty. It was particularly gratifying because through acupuncture my hands have gotten a lot better and I can do work that I couldn’t do a few years ago. So my artist’s date was to spend the time with my jewelry tools, re-creating and restoring these beautiful pieces.
PS I talk to text and so forgive the poor punctuation, blah blah blah blah. I’m not apologizing. I’m really not I’m really not.😉
Janice, I'm so sorry for the loss of your dear friend Anne.
In terms of the check in: I did the MPs every day. I did the artist’s date earlier in the week and already described it (the Dylan experience with A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall). I have my next artist’s date planned out: I will get out my pastels and drawing paper that I have touched once in probably 25 years and see what comes out. I did most of the tasks. I see how I sabotage myself. I have a rebellious streak, even though I was a “good girl” and a “good student” and a “good stable career worker”. In terms of being “brave”, I think it is brave to read The Artist’s Way and do the exercises. I also think it is brave to write. I have been jotting down ideas and plots and story lines and reading, but not actually producing much in terms of writing. I took a big step this week with writing and it will require more bravery to continue to a finished product.
I completed the morning pages all but one day this week. I am loving this exercise. I have received overwhelming patience and support from the loved ones in my home, which aids in making it feel positive. My morning pages read like part journal, part confessional, and part creative musings. I have taken to dog-earing pages that might have some creative insights and leaving the rest to never be revisited.
I attended a local poetry reading for my artist’s date. I will be doing this again. As it turns out, I quite enjoy doing things by myself and I am inspired listening to other people share their work. Doing something I had never done also felt like a risk this week. This activity counted as double.
I gave a couple of the tasks this week a whirl. The one that I was most struck by his listing my habits. It was illuminating to see the automatic thoughts that rob opportunity for expansive and creating thinking. I found a helpful redirection for one such automatic thought that has proven to be highly useful when I encounter it.
a trickle of air wafted through the box, and I began to breathe again.
I'm buoyed by reading these conversations. Chop wood, carry water. Thank you, Keely for reminding us how much we need each other and how to go back to the real work of the world.
Artist Way Check In
How many days morning pages? Everyday
How did I feel about pages this week? Some days really flowed but I have been sick and so it was hard to write pages when exhausted and feeling unwell.
Artist date? I took myself to lunch at the bar counter of a restaurant in my town. They have the best hot sauce I have ever tasted. I ate a giant buttermilk biscuit with basil blueberry jam and drank lots of coffee in a smooth cream colored diner mug. I was reading and underlining what I was reading so the man sitting next to me asked if I was a student. I ended up chatting with him and learning about his life and when he moved to town. He introduced me to the waitress who told me about her life and when she started working at the restaurant 14 years earlier. It was delightful.
Did I do any tasks? Childhood questions were not where I wanted to look and not productive or fruitful for me this week, so for tasks I focused on friends: who are the people who lift me up and why? Who does the opposite? How can I protect my time from energy thieves and offer it up to the people who reflect the best of me back to myself in time spent together?
Any discoveries? “The antidote for shame is self-love and self-praise” from pg 71. Whole dealing with criticism section.
What risks have I taken this week? Being honest and open about the ways I have overbooked myself and what I am feeling afraid of. Allowing myself to pause before reacting or fixing something. Basically, the risk of trying things a new way and sitting in the discomfort of that, not trying to escape it.
Hello friends.
What a week.
I did not do an artist date.
I did not do morning pages.
I did not do the exercises, though I at least read the chapter last weekend.
I did not even get to reading Michelle's post (something I always relish) and all the responses until just now.
I have felt I was drowning this week between a few related things: the national changes, the weight of my own emotions in response, holding space for the fear and anger and despair of most of my clients, a very complicated and heartbreaking child abuse report, and then an unexpected flurry of online communication when a simple note I wrote on substack on Sunday went viral and led to hundreds of new subscribers, each of which I reached out to individually to say hello.
Did I do anything brave? This might not seem like much, but I struggle with deep ambivalence about my publicity - knowing the need for it as an author, the pressure from my agent, and loving privacy and fearing the scrutiny and potential backlash of the public. So while I didn't set out to write a viral note, I was brave enough to let it be and not delete it. (Not huge viral, but instead of 0-2 likes, it racked up 1400 and counting.) I have a tendency to back away when such things happen. Then, leaning into that space, I put up my first short video on Substack today, trying something new. So far that hasn't really gained traction but courage isn't about outcomes.
https://dvinall.substack.com/p/mental-health-in-the-new-political?utm_source=substack&utm_content=feed%3Arecommended%3Acopy_link
I feel no defiance in my lack of completion this week; I wish I had, but it simply didn't fit into this hard and full week. I will try to catch up on the exercises after I've caught up with the rest of last week's work.
What a week, indeed. It has been a lot to hold this week. Managing a public life must feel so terrifying. It is the scariest thing to me about being potentially successful at this endeavor. I think it is very brave to keep your note out there when the anxiety started to build. And then to lean in more, I am inspired.
Thank you, Bree.
I totally understand crying through morning pages (sometimes all-day pages for me). I always tell friends, cry it out. Tears release toxins built up from fear, stress, frustration, depression, despair, etc. All the feels. My late sister used to say “feeling is healing”- I think I’ve heard it in 12-step circles a bit, too. I love drawing on the walls. I’ve done it then painted over it. I like to tack up a canvas and gesso it then lay down a background color and painting with a huge (4” wide) brush flowers and trees and houses the way I enjoyed drawing as a kid with crayons too. In fact I have 3 full large boxes of Crayolas out to play with, I like to draw patterns from my Native American heritage, spirits and ideas I see in my mind’s eye. I miss the smell of wax as I write this. It’s calling me to color :)
Thank you for taking risk to walk a path of truth and integrity. So awesome, so vital, so beautiful!