JoDee Luna's Blog, page 8

Returning to Writing

I’m trying to find my way back to the reflective writer I once was.

Funny thing is, she seems like another lifetime ago. I search for her in memories and imagine a woman who rose every morning to write. Yes, I sigh, she vaguely resembles someone I used to know but now aspire to become, once again.

Her tenacity tantalizes me. Her persistence pushes me. Her devotion delivers me.

So if the writer I once was had such an impact on me, then why did I leave her behind until her memory blurs like a woman in the mist?

Oh, I could blame several things for this distance between us; all justifiable tasks that crowded life spaces: adjustments to a retirement, once-in-a-lifetime family events, the purchase and renovation of a home, a growing passion to paint.

Sure, I can still see these reasons clearly and argue as to why, most mornings, I put down my pen, but her truth still calls to me from the mist:

A special thanks to Andy Luna for borrowing her “living book” sketch.

And even though the message returns, I’ve argued this point profusely, “Really, Lord, who cares what I pen?”

Then God sends encouragement my way through the wise words of a friend, TJ Patton:

“…you write and leave people thinking, it is what is in you, that a lot of us think about.”

And once again, truth melts away resistance until the original reasons I write return to mind:

For self-reflectionTo process thoughts, feelings, and life decisionsTo release the madness that mounts in my mindTo encourage others who go through similar experiences

Yes, I smile; I began to write because to not do so would have surely resulted in my undoing, and so I must continue to write as a form of self-health.

As I scribble thoughts on to paper, I remember the most important reason I write:

To waltz with the One
who created the world with words.

Yes, writing forms a divine romance between the Eternal Spirit and my finite soul.

Writing leads me into realms of wisdom and understanding I could never venture into, let alone discover, alone.

Writing pours life direction through my pen.

The part of the world in which I work makes more sense when I write.

The part of myself I want to quarantine away from others becomes clearer when I write.

The part of my writing I want to share with others forms blog posts and manuscript pages when I write.

As I write my way back, I know I’ll encounter resistance. The seemingly urgent will threaten to fill my life spaces, and so I will have to work harder to carve out consistent writing time.

I wonder how many other writers are trying to return to their authentic writer’s self. Perhaps there are many that share my struggle to persist. So to you, my dear writer friends, I pass on a Ray Bradbury quote that my daughter, Elya (an aspiring novelist), posted on her Facebook page:

I say “persist!” Together we can do this!

Vessels for my Voice

Have you ever felt overpowered by others’ opinions, or found yourself withdrawing your voice to make room for the voices of others? If so, this poem is for you:

As an artistic type, I’ve found other ways to express my voice when I find myself receding. Writing poetry, and then visualizing the poems by making YouTube videos provides a means of self-expression.

This poem, Checkmate, helped me to process my frustrations with powerful, manipulative people overpowering others.

This poem, Gulliver’s Release, expresses my process of breaking free from what I perceived others’ expected of me:

Another way I’ve found helpful to express my voice is through painting. When emotions and thoughts cause inner turmoil, a painting forms in my imagination. As I paint, I work through whatever is causing me angst.

I painted “The Seven Virtues” during the height of the Covid 19 Pandemic when so many strong voices blared through the television and over social media platforms. She helped me to decide what I wanted to focus on instead of being pulled in so many directions by others’ opinions:

Writing is another way to express one’s voice. This is one of the many reasons why I love blogging. Indulge in the Selfish Side of Writing expresses my thoughts.

There are so many creative vessels for one’s voice that are liberating and soothing. This is one of the many blessings of the arts.

Do you ever feel insignificant?

Insignificance: to small or unimportant to be worth consideration. Without power or influence.

Have you ever struggled with insignificance? Felt too unimportant to be worth consideration? Wondered why what means so much to you means so little to others?

What is it in the human soul that longs to be loved, to be heard, to be admired, to be appreciated? For us artistic types, the longing can feel even more severe. Our creations are extensions of who we are, so if our artwork or writing or music or videos or other creations receive little attention, we can feel like our creativity is unimportant, and we are insignificant.

I wonder how many other creatives wrestle with feelings of insignificance. Hours spent on a blog post only to have a few read the words you poured your heart and soul into crafting.

Days spent painting your imagination onto canvas, then posting a photo, only to have a few stop, admire, and comment.

Sure, I’ve had popular posts, admired artwork, and frequently viewed YouTube videos, but the plight of insignificance lurks around every creative corner ready to pounce on my most cherished project and intended purposes. 

Feelings of insignificance can crush creativity, paralyze artistic desires, and shut down motivation. 

We live in an age of influencers in which significance is measured by social media followers. But what if we decided to live differently, to take a closer look at significance?

Significance: the quality of being worthy of attention, importance.

How about significance as seen through the eyes of a child? 

I had one of my granddaughters over for her “grandma only visits.” I asked her what she would like to do, and she said, “Can I watch one of your salt dough videos?”

She picked out the one she wanted and even though only five, she watched the step-by-step 12:48 minute Apple and Rose Basket video with total attention riveted on the computer screen:

“I want to make my own,” she announced.

“Do you want to go through the video again, and I’ll stop it along the way as you make your basket?” I asked.

She looked me in the eyes and boldly exclaimed, “I’ve got this!” 

And she did. She chose her colors and crafted her own apple and rose basket. The only items she asked me to help her with were the leaves. Her tiny fingers rolled her own version of a rose, a new way I’ve since adopted in my own salt dough designs. 

Then we went on to create a tea light holder together.

If the world looked in on that day, our time together might have appeared insignificant. After all, the blue basket molded with a five-year-old’s hands wasn’t perfect. But for her and I, the day was magical, making the time I’d poured into that salt dough video significant because it meant so much for a child who wanted to create. 

For many of us creatives, significance isn’t found by amassing blog followers or YouTube subscribers.

Significance is found in expressions of gratitude for what we’ve invested in the lives of others.

Like the kind comment Deborah Woodward left after viewing the progression of my painting, “Be Brave,” on my YouTube Channel:

Hello Jodee. I hope you are doing well. I was thrilled to see your painting and absolutely love it. So much emotion in it. You put the incentive back in me a lot on your site. I quit years ago when I was taking care of my family. Yesterday while packing up some things in the garage I came across my mother’s brushes that I was given a few months ago when she passed. She preferred portraits also. I packed hers up with mine and found my easel. Maybe one of these days. There is not a day that passes that I am not involved in some area of art like you. I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Blessings

Deborah and I connected because we share a creative eclectic personality type. She gets me and I get her. My site inspires her to create, and her comment and creative eclectic lifestyle inspires me to continue creating, even when doing so seems insignificant.

One of my life goals is to be present. Whether crafting with my grandchildren or walking with my aging father. Whether painting what I saw in a dream or making YouTube videos so others can learn how to sculpt with salt dough, paint eye lashes, or make a love mixed media.

I’ve thought about it and decided: We artistic types shouldn’t measure our significance by cultural standards. 

We need to create because we are significant!

Creating is the way God made us. When we create, we feel happier, we process our pain, we express our joy, we make our imagination come alive for others to draw inspiration from so they can create what stirs their souls. 

And we remember, the eyes of God always take time to admire our creations. To Him, they are significant! 

Warrior Artist: Dare to create what God inspires!

Salt Dough Natural Wreath

Learn how to sculpt a natural salt dough wreath that includes leaves, flowers, fruit, and nuts. This step-by-step video lesson will show you how from start to finish:

Salt Dough Sculpture Videos:

Check out some other easy and fun salt dough sculpture lessons:

Fun and Easy Salt Dough Art Projects

Be Brave

Be brave when your eyes cannot see.

Be brave when fear stifles your voice.

Be brave when you dread the path before you.

Be brave when trusting God is your only option.

Oil Progression Painting

I saw this painting in a dream recently when I was undergoing a series of health tests to determine whether I had a serious disease.

I thought about all of the women who are going through similar experiences. Fortunately, my health tests came back in my favor. Not so for so many others.

Be Brave is for all women facing the worst fears of their lives!

BE BRAVE!

Gulliver’s Release: Writers Need a Voice and Audience

Sometimes we writers need to break free of other’s expectations to find our voice and our audience. This poem, Gulliver’s Release, expresses these longing:

Today I relish alone. Just me, curled up on the couch, wrapped in my cozy, white robe. Candles lit as I watch a little bird perch on the roof of a birdhouse outside the window. She dodges in and out of the hole to check out nesting possibilities. 

Today I write because my soul longs to capture the moment. The compulsion to craft into words what I see and feel drives me to pick up a pen. The serenity surrounding begs to be recorded on journal pages. 

Today I accept that I’m not an Ann Voskamp, selling books to thousands around the world. I’m just a writer returned to the page after a lengthy stay away because I fell hopelessly in love with painting.

Today I’m not sure of my writing purposes, once again, for the millionth time. My sister insists God saves all my words because they are precious to Him. Just like He saves my tears:

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/tears-in-a-bottle-jodee-luna.html

If I write for no other reason, if I write because I need to for me, then that must be purpose enough. 

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/the-pen-jodee-luna.html

Even with all that said, the reality is we writers are a rare breed. We long for self-expression, and when we find our voice, we long for an audience. I know it sounds egotistical but it’s true. Ask any writer you know, and if they’re honest, they’ll admit it. 

If we dare to share our words with the world, readers will come along in unexpected ways. I’m fascinated with the many countries my blog readers come from. I wonder how they found my posts. Sometimes I can see the path listed, like:

PinterestFacebookInstagramyoutube.comSearch EnginesWordPress.com ReaderA link from another website

But most of the time the mystery remains. An occasional comment lets me know someone besides the good Lord is listening.

Sometimes readers are watchers who view my visual poetry on YouTube, Instagram, or TikTok. 

Sometimes readers are Facebook friends that click on a blog link I post. Sometimes readers are family who relish in a personal card that expresses my deepest appreciation for them.

Unfortunately, we writers need an audience for motivation like a dancer needs a partner to waltz across the floor.

Writers need readers like the heart needs arteries and veins to release and return blood flow that keeps the body alive. 

If a writer doesn’t have an outlet, even if its journal pages shared with a trusted few, they get all stoved up, frustrated, out of sorts. They can even get angry or sullen or depressed. Trust me, I know. 

The Fighter…when giving up isn’t an option! https://fineartamerica.com/featured/the-fighter-jodee-luna.html

When I self-published my book, Refrain from the Identical: Insights and Inspiration for Creative Eclectics, I experienced the satisfaction of people relating to my words, experiences, and insights. People benefiting from my encouragement to accept their multi-faceted selves warmed my heart and made me smile:

“This book is so freeing for those of us who need to be encouraged in the busyness of life to let our creativity soar!” – Donna Mast

“I cried while reading your manuscript. For the first time in my life, I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with me. I may be scattered and love doing different kinds of art, but now I know that I’m ok. I’m a ‘Creative Eclectic!’”  – Carrie Fisher

So, if you’re a writer, accept the fact that you, too, need an audience. I encourage you to break free, like Gulliver, from other’s expectations and pursue ways to share your thoughts with the world. You’ll discover the satisfaction will outweigh the fear. Finding your audience is liberating for the soul. 

Free Flight is a mixed media portrait that speaks to the mermaid in all of us that dares to soar. 
Free Flight speaks to the soul, encouraging us to dare, to explore, to venture out of the mundane so we can realize our dreams. https://fineartamerica.com/featured/free-flight-jodee-luna.html

When the Heavens Fall Silent

When you pray
And the answer does not come
The heavens fall silent
A harmonious hush heard

No “Not yet”
Nor “Wait” graces ears
Only peace that lingers
In the unknown you seek

When you pray
And the heavens fall silent
You must rest and believe
For the perfect to come

When answers to my questions do not come, I find the Lord’s silence is purposeful. What captivates His heart for me does not align with what my mind perceives it should be. I want to rush the plans I’ve labored to bring about. He sees the plan and knows the ultimate direction.

In these times, I pound upon heaven’s door in search of His purposes for my life. I seek Him for where I might have wandered from His path.  And yet only silence seeps from under the door. Heart-wrenching silence. I imagine myself slumped down, leaning against the door. 

Yet if I could only see through to the other side, I would see a flurry of angels receiving assignments. 

St. Patrick’s Day Shamrock Salt Dough Craft

Here’s a fun and easy craft for St. Patrick’s Day. Watch the video to view the step-by-step process or follow the instructions and images below the video:

Here’s the step-by-step instructions:

Measure and mix together the flour and salt:

Add water to green paint and mix, and then add the flour and salt mixture. Knead until it is the consistency of play dough:

Roll out green dough to about a quarter to a half thickness:

Cut out three hearts:

Paste the hearts together to form a shamrock:

Add a green stem:

Roll out a banner using regular salt dough:

Curl the banner on the ends:

Paste banner onto shamrock:

Insert a paper clip into the paste, and then into the top for hanging:

Bake at 170 degrees for several hours until top is hard. Turn over and back for several more hours until back is hard.

Spray with clear glaze:

Hang with a ribbon or string:

Add lettering with a sharpie marker:

The Muse of Memoir: Share your Story

Watch the video version using the link above.

A woman arises from the mist and walks towards me. All my writing until this moment seems but mere child’s play, splashes in puddles of rain.

She unfolds her soft, supple hands, not gnarled, and scarred as I would assume for one having put her hand to the plow of honesty. No, her palms rest smooth and calm.

She motions me forward, into the grown-up world of memoir. As if entranced by an apparition, I follow, haltingly and awkwardly at first, until the motion practiced achieves fluidity of form. 

No time clock ticks on the walls of my mind, just forward motion in sync with a rhythmic heartbeat, the voices of memoirists throughout the ages.

I want to write memoir. Thoughts swirl in my mind, invigorating, compelling. No deadlines delivered nor perfection required. Just the steady, melodic sound of desire like a dulcimer’s tingling inside my mind. Calling me forward to follow… the woman in the mist. 

Poem by JoDee Luna

Artwork by Elya Filler Moline

Music: Surrender by Asher Fuller

A Grief Endured

I revisited a post and poem dating back to March 2, 2012 and decided to create a video version:

Here’s the former post:

This morning I received another phone call informing me of another precious friend who has died. This is the fifth person in the last two weeks. From ages 19 to 82, each person has left behind loved ones whose grief knows no bounds. I wish I could alleviate some of the suffering these families are enduring. This post is my meager attempt to do so.

This morning I pray for these families to receive the grace to endure their losses. I also remember the story of two sisters, Martha and Mary, who grieved the death of their brother, Lazarus.

Jesus said to her [Mary], “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” – John 11:25-26

This morning I confronted this question, once again, “Do you believe this?”

I say that I do until someone I love lies silent on a velvety cushion. Then in that moment, I face the inevitable reality I seek to distract myself from with all of the many activities crammed into my days:

All any of us are is a breath away from eternity.

This morning I weep with those who weep. I remember you who must endure this agonizing separation until you reunite with your loved ones in heaven. I join your whispers of “I believe.”