JoDee Luna's Blog, page 33

Just Make Stuff!

Recently, I’ve had a hankering to make more florals with rusty bed coils. Perhaps it’s because the first one has been repinned on Pinterest time and time again. I named this floral delight “Sweet Betty” after my sister-in-law’s mom, Betty, and made it to cheer her up after the loss of her lifetime partner and precious husband.

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Sweet Betty

Sweet Betty is making the Internet rounds and cheering people up right, left and center. I find this far from ironic, but kind of like what my cousin, Kim, wrote to me in a recent email:

“The Lord’s work,” as a former boss used to say quoting his grandmother.

I think Sweet Betty is a personal message to me about taking the time to just make stuff. Sometimes I get all bound up with thoughts like, I gotta sell this or it’s not worth my time. But you don’t have to make money or make things perfectly to give away a creative gift to someone.

If you have a stirring in your heart to make something, you should go ahead and try.

At this point, my next envisioned creation is only a tiny tea cup and a rusty spring (I bought the tea cup at an antique street fair in Cayucos, during last weekend’s cousins’ beach retreat.)

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Yet I know something beautiful is going to result from my willingness to try something new.

Besides, if I make a mistake, there are three more beds full of rusty bed coils in abandon fields that are waiting for my wire cutters to set them free. (Even though my husband pleads with me, “Please don’t tell people that we drag home old rusty bed coils from dusty fields.”)

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Cayucos: A Refreshing Travel Excursion

Have you ever felt like a frayed rope about ready to snap? If so, you might need a travel excursion to a picturesque place.

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Recently, some of the women in my family ventured to Cayucos, California for a weekend trip full of rest and relaxation.

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The first evening we met in a quaint wine bar on the main street of the town.

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We toasted our reunion…

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caught each other up on what was going on in our lives, and admired the amazing scenery we could see from the balcony. These next few photos are from this picturesque spot, as I looked out towards the beach.

[image error]Looking towards the pier.

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Stay tuned for more photos to follow soon…

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Chapter 3 PRACTICING CREATIVE SELF-CARE

Creativity begins with healthy self-care. When we artistic types take care of our particular self-care needs, our creative capacity expands. Each person is unique and has particular self-care priorities. For example, an introvert needs alone time to refuel, whereas an extrovert refuels from others. This chapter of my book, Refrain from the Identical: Insight and Inspiration for Creative Eclectics, provides helpful hints for managing your personal needs.

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Here is an excerpt from Chapter 3: Practicing Creative Self-Care:

A Guide to Emotional Health: Surviving and Thriving

The names, faces, and circumstances may change but the principles remain the same.  Life just keeps doling out one volley of adverse circumstances after another.  Each seems unique and often keeps us obsessing and unproductive for days instead of pursuing our artistic outlets.  This is especially true when matters of the heart are involved.  A biblical proverb admonishes that “under seven things the earth quakes.” One of those listed is “an unloved woman when she gets a husband.” Yet a scorned lover is nothing compared to a frustrated artist. If I could add an eighth, it would be a blocked creative soul. The volcano of pent-up energy rumbles seeking any fissure through which to escape. Some challenges taunt courage and if one procrastinates pursuit, others within emotional distance become targets for unresolved fear and frustration.

“If only my husband was more sensitive,” you sigh.

“I wish I had another job that allowed more time for creating. If I was a full time writer, I know I wouldn’t get depressed anymore.” Yet, after a summer vacation from teaching, your dark moods roll in everyday like the morning fog at the beach.

All of us would love to save up healthy self-care for those difficult times but it does not work that way. Twelve Step Recovery stresses it is “one day at a time.” Often, one moment at a time keeps you from falling over the cliff of insanity.  You may even know that obsessing is a smokescreen of avoidance from discovering and pursuing what you really want out of life, but you indulge in this destructive practice anyway. Like an alcoholic savoring that forbidden drink, random distracting thoughts ricochet through your mind instead of ideas for the project you are too frightened to tackle.

Creative people have a gift (although it often feels like a curse) of sensing and expressing the heart of humanity. This tendency to feel deeply can be a conduit for artistic expression if embraced and processed. Writing, music, or art often result when we try to understand and communicate our feelings. Others who find it difficult to connect with their feelings often benefit from the creative person’s ability to do so.

I have found my artist’s personality emotionally survives and thrives through reflective writing and kindred relationships. When I find myself obsessing about people or situations, I remember the lessons learned from those years of recovery. Stopping to take care of myself through processing always realigns my perspective and priorities. Turning to those people who mirror my thoughts back in order to help me discover the sources of my turmoil also helps me navigate this terrain of the heart and reinforce some truths I have learned to practice.

My daughter of a mere twenty years called me last evening, “Mom, we need to talk!”

Her words pierced my heart with fear and dread. “What’s wrong?” Silence! “Are you ok?” Silence! “No, I know you’re not ok so what is going on?”

Her desperate reply sent shivers down my spine.

“Mom, can you tell me what is wrong with me? Can you help me to understand myself? I have these times when I really want to do something, like recently, I decided to go to medical school and become a doctor. Then, a few weeks later, the thought repulses me, and it is the last thing I want to do! Or, I am convinced my boyfriend is the one and then I don’t even want to date him. I go up and down emotionally and I can’t control my emotions and I don’t know why.”

“Phew,” I muttered. “Honey, you have an artist’s personality. I know because I go through the same emotional roller coaster of manic episodes and depressive plummets. Have you been writing regularly?” I ask.

“No,” she whimpers.

What follows is a rendition of my counsel that I have found to be true after a lifetime of living in an eclectic creative’s skin. When you are up, you believe any ambition is possible.  During these times, creativity often pours forth in a seemingly unending torrent. After the spike, unfortunately, the descent occurs.  Like clockwork, you emotionally fall into a state of despair as possibility covers with clouds of negativity. Nothing seems good to you whether career, relationships, or food selection. You feel immeasurably sorry for yourself, and if society still practiced the biblical practice of sackcloth and ashes, you would tear your clothes, throw ashes on your head—a sign of grieving—and howl the loudest lament possible.

“Darling, I know you don’t want to hear me say this again but you need to begin some emotional conditioning. You need to practice daily writing in order to sift through your emotions and get to the bottom of what is really going on inside.”

I tried to explain to her the essential nature of this practice. To use the analogy of weeding my garden, writing is like following crab grass underground through all of this nasty devil’s twists and turns until you find the place where it roots. Writing allows the reflective soul to find out what is beneath the surface; not only where the negative roots originate but also the seeds of personal growth choked out by emotional weeds.

Our conversation progressed with her finally settling down and listening to my rendition of why I write for self-reflection. How often the first part of my daily writing entails a stream of emotional vomit full of complaints, foul feelings, and besetting worries. Only as I cleanse these unwelcome visitors from my soul does the next phase of writing kick in. With room to breathe, poems, prose, reflections, stories, and songs strengthen their tender stocks reaching up for fresh air and warm sunshine. These bouquets from a soulful garden would not stand a chance of emerging unless there was weeding.  Digging up the roots takes painstaking determination in order to prevent these nasty irritants from revisiting.  However, the ability to maintain focus on nurturing my creativity instead of the emotional weeds often requires other essential tools. In order to emotionally survive and thrive, I need open, honest, and trustworthy relationships.

Having other people you implicitly trust provides those who remind you that the source of your current problem may just be a lack of self-discovery. I tried to explain to my daughter that although her talents as an artist and writer are still emerging and developing, she must embrace this truth and learn to become a self-reflective soul. Only as she writes and sorts through what are often only smoke and mirrors hiding the true problem, will she discover her identity and destiny.

“Sweetheart, neither your lack of career direction nor your boyfriend are the source of your unhappiness.  You just have not discovered the path to your destiny.  Even when you do, you will have days when your heart sings and others when deep depression and despair settle.”

In that moment, my other daughter’s counsel to me returned to mind.  Andrea, an artist/writer/dancer/English major listens to my complaints and offers fresh perspective. She reminds me that part of the reason I do feel everything so intensely is because I am a writer. I am extremely thankful for the open and honest relationships I have with my daughters and the other women in our family. We form a support group for venting our obsessions while looking past them to see what creative challenges we fear.

You can purchase Refrain from the Identical: Insight and Inspiration for Creative Eclectics by selecting this link, or learn more about the book by selecting the Refrain Book Info page.

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The Stranger

Into the night he whispers

Stranger from another realm

Shrouding form so sweetly familiar

Apparition from youth I once touched

Into my mind he whispers

Stranger from another realm

Unfolding path swathes my awkward steps

Only moving forward matters now

Into my soul he whispers

Stranger from another realm

Drawing me towards immortality

I sense a presence not of this earth

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Often The Stranger visits us in childhood when our hearts believe before our eyes see. Like blindfolded children swinging at a candy-packed piñata, someone connects and those around hear the rush of fallen treasure. The compulsion to pull off the blindfold seems so natural in those innocent moments.

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Photo Credit: Elya Filler

Yet as we age, cynicism settles in our minds and souls, and we lose touch with The Stranger. It becomes difficult to explain the divine courtship with someone who has forgotten The Stranger’s whispers once heard in childhood.

Until an epiphany graces spiritual apathy.

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When the pursued senses the pursuer’s inexplicable draw, an entirely new dialogue begins.

Although the person might not yet have words to describe the experience, a compulsion to move towards The Stranger and embark upon their journey together begins.

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Ode to My Brother

I’ve indirectly learned many of life’s important lessons through watching my older brother stumble upon them first.

Photo Credit: Heather Kincaide Photography

Josiah was the first born male in the family and so, in many ways, the guinea pig for discovering how to raise a boy into a man.

For that reason, often at times, I think he had a different upbringing than the rest of us. As an adult, I am able to look back and realize that everyone was a little harder and tougher on him. Who could blame them? The fear of failure was far too frightening.

READ THE ENTIRE POST…

http://www.heatherkincaid.com/blog/

 

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Hopelessness

Photo by Justin Luna

Will you still believe when the darkness descends and the enemies of your soul babble in your brain?

Will you hold fast when despair circles overhead like a raven in search of treasures to steal?

Hopelessness grates upon serenity until all that remains is depression.

Yet, this dark place is where faith stretches—when you trust in what your eyes do not see, your mind does not believe, nor your heart feels.

If you are an artistic person, chances are you will encounter hopelessness along your creative path. I sure know that I do. Often I understand the source. Yet more times than not, the malaise seems to descend from out of nowhere. I cannot pinpoint why I feel the way I feel.

During these dark times of the soul, the challenge is to swat away this menace until those uneasy emotions lift and artistic inspiration returns, riding on the wings of hope.

 

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Treasure-hunting Tuesdays

I call our weekly outing Treasure-hunting Tuesday. The concept is quite simple. The women in my family get together every week or so to explore a quaint antique shop, and then to have coffee, tea, or dinner.

I classified this post under “Creative Projects” because I believe an outing can be a creative project. I found this tea cup, shabby chic drawer, and lace handkerchiefs on our last outing. I’m always on the look out for vintage items I can use to organize my art supplies or for photo shoots.

The outing is merely the beginning of the creative project.

After you go treasure hunting, you can come home and enjoy an impromptu photo shoot. Find a window with light streaming in and set up your treasure. If you are using a camera with a manual lighting option, play around with the numbers to vary the amount of light. You can also have fun with embellishments such as antique handkerchiefs, embroidered flowers (my grandmother made these), and flowers from your garden.

So I encourage you to set aside some time for a treasure hunt. Call some family or friends and decide to explore an antique store. Allow for time afterwards to chat, and then return home with new treasures for crafts and photography fun. I guarantee this will be time well spent. Life won’t feel so rough when you smooth the edges with friendship and exploration.

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Lady of the Night

Photo of Evil Queen's castle taken at Disneyland, CA

“Mom,” my daughter says as she nestles next to me, as if a chick under the mother hen’s wing. She couldn’t possibly get any closer. “I wrote a new poem. Read it.”

Elya drove an hour on a Sunday afternoon to draw strength from being around family.

She hands me her phone and I read the poem.

“Do you get it?” She asks.

“An affair?” I answer.

“No. Read it again.” She insists.

I reread the poem and struggle to discern who this Lady of the Night is. A tormentor of soul to be sure, yet a “…teacher and friend.” My mind cannot pull together the meaning. “Hmm…” I mumble.

She finally can’t stand the gap between her intended message and my mental perplexity so she blurts, “She’s depression.”

I reread the poem and the meaning crystallizes. “I get it now.” Her poem makes perfect sense to me because I am very familiar with this dark visitor.

Depression. I mull the meaning of the poem’s riddle over in my mind. This is “the little bit of crazy” that my daughter says characterizes our family. I’d add anxiety to that description as well.

A family full of artistic souls is bound to, at times, struggle with this deep, dark emotion.

“I haven’t written any poems lately because I’ve been so happy.” My daughter goes on to explain. “But now that my boyfriend is in Italy, and I miss him, it’s back.” I watch an eerie smile creep across her face. She’s in full affair mode with this evil temptress, the Lady of the Night.

We artistic types have a strange love affair with depression. We dread and yet crave the Lady of the Night. When she visits, we detest the anguish and yet know that we generate some of our best writing and art while wrestling with this temptress. We must write and create our way out of her spell, and thus she is our “beloved teacher and friend.”

*Visit Elya Filler’s Blog: http://elyafiller.wordpress.com

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Life Pauses

When life pauses, rather than fill in the silence, become someone you can be proud of.

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Become a Hermit for a Day

I often wonder when I became a hermit. Not, actually, in real life, mind you, but in my heart’s home. I used to be an extrovert, drawing energy from the crowd. Now, I sip on a sunrise and savor the silence.

A day alone delights me. Even though my husband is off to work on the weekend, I rise early with gliding fingers of thought that eventually wrap around my pen. Starched ideas—fresh from a renewed mind—cloth me when I write, when I rest, and when I create.

Dianne Polome’s recent post, “Give Yourself Permission,” impacted me. She gets and expresses the crazy compulsion to clean clutter instead of to create. The struggle to give oneself permission. Here’s an excerpt from her insightful post:

“Some people would identify this as the choice between the urgent and the important. For me, it’s more a matter of permission. The image came to mind of the hall passes we used to get in junior high and high school. As long as you had that all-important little pink slip, you were allowed to be in the hallway or library. So I decided to make myself a “creativity pass”! My hope is that it will serve as a tangible reminder to give myself the permission to go ahead and play.

So . . . what do you need to give yourself permission to do?”

Created by Dianne Polome

We creative eclectics often need to snap off tendrils of co-dependency that wrap around our writing and painting arms and polarize our pens and paintbrushes:

Career demands
Relational drama
Family frenzy

Life’s fluff collects in our spiritual eyes and blurs our vision.

So today, I encourage you to get out your calendar and clear a day to be a hermit:

Move or cancel appointments—don’t double book your day
Put off time thieves (housework, shopping, errands) that rob days from your creative life
Resist the urge to schedule company, clean out clutter, or indulge in couch potato nothings

If an entire day overwhelms you because of straddling time alone and real life, start small.

My creative life begins with early morning writing. I’ve discovered a cluttered soul blocks the flow. Writing is to my soul’s health what eating is to my body’s strength or prayer is to my spirit’s stamina. I give the first fruits of my day to a non-negotiable time with God, my pen, and my spiral notebook. End of excuses.

Often I sit and just listen. Sometimes the morning is wordless. Heaven does not always whisper along with the songbirds welcoming the sunrise. Nor do thoughts continually flow through my pen. But regardless, I sit and give writing her due diligence.

Writing is a date with yourself that you truly must insist on keeping if you want your creativity to continue with consistency.

Creativity is a gift you give yourself to keep your life enjoyable.

So try a bit of the hermit’s lifestyle. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.

 

 

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