{the power of dreams}

Good morning from the chilly Midwest!

Summer has turned to fall; outside, the air is still and silent, no more children laughing, or cars zooming down the street, sounds carried by waves of humidity wafting off the pavement. No, now, the air barely seems to move, a whisper stroking multi-colored leaves. I've never been a huge fan of autumn, but have come to appreciate the beauty each season brings. Soon, people will be bundled, hurrying from car to store and back again; no one goes outside during a Chicago winter.

After a month of spotty journaling, I'm back to creating oddles of pages. Above is one done after amazingly vivid dreams of me teaching and guiding others; I am filled with a sense that some power larger than myself is along for the ride, sitting beside me as I work toward making these things happen. They are the answers to many prayers for guidence and a clue as to what I am doing.

I originally took the job I have now as a way to have a steady paycheck and health insurance while working on more creative endevors. Now, I find myself working more and more and neglecting art and my writing -- two things that have been presented with so many oppertunities, only I've been too busy or tired to embrase them. Is that how it's supposed to be? I feel as though I've wandered off the path Divinity and I were skipping down, tangled in the brush. They are calling to me, trying to help me find my way back, but I am too frightened and torn-up to keep trying to follow their voice.

Does this make any sense? I find myself questioning more and more in this life I'm living, wondering how I got here. I need a way back to balance in my life; heck, I slept 12 hours last night, so exausted from work yesterday that I could barely move; my body felt so delicate and shattered. I'm not listening to it when it comes to limits, and I thought I'd gotten past that! Now, a promotion may be hiding in the wings, and instead of letting God take care of it, I'm pushing, pushing instead of cutting back, finding balance, figuring things out.

Sometimes, I could just smack myself. Ever feel like that?

So how do we get back? How do we find the faith and strength to get through the bush, back to the path and our waiting companion? Yes, we will get scratched up, and yes, it will be painful, but we have to, don't we? Unless we want life to be a constant struggle, lost out there with only a faint voice telling us it doesn't have to be this way. And here I am, clutching a clear vision from above, and what do I do? Say, "Yes, I will work on it. When I have time," instead of taking it for what it means.

I have to make the little changes that will add up over time. Honor my committments. Do my art. And have faith I'll find my way.

{disconnected moments}

Have you ever journaled something on a page, then gotten distracted -- three days later, you turn to the page, and you're no longer in the same mindset as when you started? What do you do? Will you continue on the vein you started simply to fill a page, or do you move on as well?

I recently was able to see many of my journal pages disconnected from context, ie, outside the side-by-side existence of being in a bound journal. And a thought struck me:

Sometimes, the pages with the least amount of words are the most powerful.

Take the one above. The first part at the top is about some tomatoes grown by the sisters at a local convent. They trade these sweet vegetables for coffee grounds to help fertilize their garden. Some weeks, we get cucumbers, or tomatoes, or other yummy veggies in exchange for our donation of grounds. And let me tell you, they were some of the most delicious foods I've ever tasted. When I first popped a cherry tomato in my mouth, I almost giggled, and knew I had to journal about it.

Only three little lines made it onto the page. That was all I had to say in order to remember.

A week and a half later, I felt some trepidation about what I'd been working on, a silly little self-indulgence story that would never be seen by anyone but trusted friends, instead of "real work" that needed to be done. Feeling the need to rationalize and validate my feelings, I turned to my journal, writing a paragraph before my break was finished.

A single paragraph that made me feel better.

Yesterday, looking at the page, I felt like doodling and coloring. So I played with some colored pencils, colored and drew, feeling better for doing some art for the day. I wrote about the rustle of leaves I could hear out my window.

A little fragment that reminds me of lying under the trees as a young child.

Your pages do not need to be completed at the same time, on the same day. They do not need to be filled with words or images of collaged bits to be "finished." You can add to pages days and weeks and months later as life progresses and changes and morphs and the leaves change color or snow falls. They are there for you when you want to remember, or need to write down a phone number from information. They are depositories of your day-to-day. No prompts needed. Just life.

Even the ugly pages have meaning. The blue page above didn't turn out how I'd like. But looking at it a month later, I can see how I felt on that day, remember hiking through the cool, still air of the woods, discovering a new sacred place with my four-legged companion. Not a beautiful page, or a nice one, but one with great meaning that will probably remain "unfinished."

Just like the one next to it. A single purple line. Beautiful in its simplicity.

Think about it for today. And everyday.

{being brave through the darkest days}

I don't have time to do a video -- I work over the weekend, and didn't want to wait until next week to post some fun. I haven't given you any tutorials or such in awhile, and feel like it's time.

I've seen my style change so much in the last few months; it's morphed into a true outpouring of myself. I used to worry and obsess over this: I'd ask people if they knew a piece was mine just by looking at it. Looking over pages, I couldn't see any cohesiveness that connected one to the next, showed off "me." Instead, I saw disconnected pieces, the mark of someone going through that "dark period" of discovery.

You may not know it yet, or perhaps you're in the throws. It is that time between copying those you like and emerging as your true self. When you know you want to go somewhere authentic, but don't know exactly where that is. If only I could draw you a map -- alas, each journey is different.

You will be tempted to fall back into old habits, to stare at the art you love and copy it. But you'll find it doesn't thrill you as it once did. You've moved past it, and looking behind you won't do you any good.

Bravery is required -- this is the stage that makes or breaks an artist. It will be hard. Challenging. You will create art for days that you hate. And you may decide to throw in the towel and shove your journal under a mattress.

And one day, you'll notice a hole in your life. You'll walk around feeling empty, lost. And won't know what it is. So you'll peek under that mattress, and -- behold! The journal waited for you. Patient and loving, the journal will always be there for you in those times of need -- both joyful and sad.

Working through this stage, you'll find yourself. You'll find not only what you can create and offer to the world -- you'll figure out who YOU are inside. You will come out a complete, authentic person. It just takes time.

I've been art journaling for 5 years, and only in the last few months have I truly loved most of the pages I create. I am finally making the art I have always been destined to make. It is a journey, my friends, and we are all on it.

{a physical representation of goals -- a contract with yourself}

 

Hello my lovlies!

After years of going red, I'm a blond again. *G* Just enjoying my new, much lighter hair!

This is my contract with myself.

When we make agreements in writing, we're much more prone to follow them. They are physical proof of abstract promises, a daily reminder that, at one time, we were willing and excited about a goal. In those moments when we'd do anything to get out of this creative venture, we can turn to a contract, see the words written clearly on the page, and steel our resolve to do them, even when we don't want to. Even when we feel we don't have the time, or aren't feeling good. 

And accomplishing them isn't as difficult as it may sound. A ten minute break at work is enough time for me to get down 150 words. Waking up an hour early gives just enough time to paint a journal page or solder a pendant. These limited blocks of time give birth to greater accomplishment simply because they're shorter. There aren't hours stretching out before you, endless idle time to get things done. Outside forces are at work, holding a clock over your head -- get it done now because this is all you have.

These limits help reign in inspiration. Instead of sitting there waiting for it to strike, you command it, shape it to your liking. This doesn't mean you fake it, rather, you tell your muse or the divine that you are sitting down to work, ready to feel their graceful hand, and they can do the same. You're partners in this endeavor, and partners are there for each other.

And so, I've created two very simple goals. To do some sort of art each day, and to write 1000 words. I don't say work on a painting each day, or that the 1000 words have to be all of one thing, or just "serious" writing. I give leeway. I allow for oddities and the surprises of life. A full day can still give way to accomplishment -- a stolen photograph, scrawled words between customers or calls.

It is the intent that matters -- that you are trying your best, at any moment, to fulfill your contract. The more you do it, the easier it gets to jump right in during those stolen three minutes you have. And if you find yourself with a day or three of endless possibilities, you can jump in feet first instead of sticking a toe in the chilly water and needing time to get used to it. Dive in, call to your inspiration, and each day, word by word, drawing by drawing, you will achieve more than you could possibly imagine.

See? 500 words done. In 15 minutes, I'm halway there. Add to that the 150 during a break, and it doesn't seem so difficult after all.

{mini-e-zine: learning grace: two weeks - a lifetime}

Instead of writing waxing poetics or appologies here, coupled with images, I decided to let it all loose and publish the last week and a half/two weeks of journal pages in a mini-e-zine FOR FREE here on the blog.

My finger is healing nicely, and I'm writing posts again; I'll be back to my regular schedule later this week, starting with Friday's Things I Have Learned, the Soldering Edition. ;)

If I didn't have this outlet of journaling, I don't know what I would have done. Gone more crazy than I did?

Please leave comments on the 'zine here or use the contact form to email me.

<3 kira

PS. YouTube found my background music in 2 videos -- they are still available for download on the Video Downloads page.

Learning Grace (PDF) - 24MB
(right click, 'save as')

{OOOPS is okay!}

After doing this journal page (on one of my journal jumps released last week), I figured out what I was going to film for this week's video.

So, I sat down, aligned the camera, and started doing my thing. I got totally into it, singing along to the music playing in the background. It was a little hard to write from an angle, but the handwriting looks really cool, so yay!

But when I finished and looked up at the display, it was flashing TAPE END. OH NO! When did the tape end? How much of my doodling did I get? Will it still work as a vid?

It cut off the rest of me writing, but you get all the drawing! And coloring! Oh, the hazards of making vids....

I've been so busy with online stuff, life stuff, scanning-for-the-zine stuff, I haven't painted in DAYS. I spend all this time in the studio, but never get my hands messy. Sometimes, the life of an artist is administrative, not creative, but it's killin' me. In order to create more, I need to do more, but then I'm not creating! At least I worked in my journal today. Isn't that what really matters?

{vlog! paintings & ideas}

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{journal page #9.2: stages of brain growth}

I've always loved science, but never had the mind for math despite loving algebra. I used to say I could solve algebraic equations every day, all day, because of how much joy they brought me. These days, the only math I do is figure out change when running a till.

I miss science. Or rather, the blend of science and faith. Several years ago, I became a fan of Laura, a Moleskine artist and retailer who's no longer online (but you can still view her flickr album). Her beautiful pages exposed me to the magic of alchemy, the study of the divine in science. Through an outline like a hypothesis (remember writing those in grade school?), the worldly is related to the sublime, the everyday to the magical. It was the first time I realized life itself is magic, a magic so awesome, there are no words.

Now, I find myself comparing this major change in my life to the stages of the alchemical process. To science illustrations. Because these changes are so complex, I need something familiar to explain them; words, for once, are failing me.

PS. if you're interested in alchemy, I wholeheartedly recommend Catherine MacCown's book On Becoming an Alchemist. Easily one of my favorites and very easy to follow.