We're all elders in training, keeping adventure journals

There are times when I get an idea in my head and I just can't shake it....it will bug me and bug me and won't let me BE until I go and do it. Since starting my daily practice of collage and mark-making, I've only found myself coming up with more ideas, not digging deeper to find inspiration. You know, those frustrating days when you sit down to work in your journal and can't come up with anything. Nope. Haven't had that. It drives me a bit crazy at times, but now that I'm writing things down, I no longer worry that I'll forget all these possibly-wonderful ideas!

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Things have been...difficult...for a little bit around here. After weeks of declining health and energy (remember all that fatigue I was feeling?), I finally found out I was having a negative reaction to some medication. Did you know generics differ from each-other and the original medication by 15%? Yeah, neither did I! Thankfully, I've been detoxing from it, and am feeling soooo much better (hence blog post; I have four of them slated and half-finished for next week!). I swear, I lost my mind for a little bit! 

One of the things that helped me see clearly once again was a women's circle I found out about when I went on an adventure to see some live music at a friend's house (live music is magical; if you can ever see it, even if it's a small group or music you *might* not like, do it anyway). I was able to drag myself out on Tuesday night in what I call Studio Chic, aka paint-covered yoga clothes, and found myself diving into the conversation and practice in this circle of women. Most know one another through their Kundalini yoga practice at a local studio and ashram; I've been interested in it ever since learning Carissa is actually a non-teaching yoga teacher in the same tradition!

Seated on the floor, we went through basic breathing and movement exercises to warm up, and I found myself able to focus for the first time in weeks. We followed with a vocal meditation -- and in the space of moments in the Present, an hour-and-a-half had passed. 

The line in the doodle above stood out to me (as well as the woman leading the activity) -- that we are elders, just in training. That when we meditate and pray today, we're sometimes sending those messages we needed in the past. Or maybe today, we're praying for the Us of tomorrow. But we always have a line to the elder we will become, a way to connect to the Self that has the answers we so desperately seek in the present.

No, time is not a straight line (though if you're a Doctor Who fan like me, you're already aware of this fact!). 

I began my letter skeptically, then remembered -- I had gotten a message from a future me while writing my daily pages a few days previous, being told about the Artist in me (something I will need another blog post to expand upon!). She told me what I should be focusing my attention on, working through, and that the Work is what matters. 

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My Moleskine sketchbook has become my Adventure Journal; I work in it daily, and carry it with me wherever I go, pulling it out to record where I am, what I'm experiencing. It's a lot like a memory device; I can better recall an event if I was drawing/doodling at the same time. And the cover is quickly being taken over by stickers from the indie bands I've seen in the last month (as well as an art sticker of my own!).

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I doodled while the Love Leighs played Thursday evening, on my friend's front porch. Dawn recently posted her own scribbles and said: "I’ve realized that if I do them in a more scribbly way, the form is more forgiving and I’m not so worried about making them “perfect”." By doodling and scribbling, I feel like I captured their movement, their melodies, their words, the way the faerie lights made them glow, how two of them weren't wearing any shoes. I journaled a bit about how music in such intimate surroundings feels like a connection through the years, back to an earlier time, before the internet and YouTube and downloading CDs. When people would gather and sing and play and share life. 

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I ended my night drinking the remainder of a friend's bottle of wine straight from the bottle (and shared it with the band's upright bass player). As my conversation ebbed and flowed outside the front door, the players changing as the night wained, I found myself peeling off the label and slapping it in my journal. On-the-spot journaling, indeed!

Of course, I had to share my doodle with the band. It's not my best, but they were still touched. And I'm feeling more and more alive as I bring together art and adventure and a body that's no longer fighting against me.