{the land of alice (reverb10 - 21}

December 21 – Future Self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)

Dear Me,

I know we always wonder about time paradoxes and over-analyze silly things like physics and mathematics and parallel universes - but I don’t have time, in this short letter, to explain how we, five years in the future, have figured all this out. And by we, I mean people in general, as I’m still falling through this rabbit hole called art.

Which is a fun thing to tumble through, once you get past the initial disorientation and fear of falling. There comes a time — and for you, it’s not that far off — when you become more comfortable with your spiral downward (or up, as the physics of such metaphors are malleable).

You’ll see it as a wild adventure, with the world at your fingertips. Like magic, doorways open up off the main tunnel and unseen hands pull you in. Your travel moves sideways or even at a decline, speed picking up, wind rushing through your hair (and it does grow as long and as beautifully as you now wish for it). This is the land of Alice, where up is down, the absurd is reality, and dreams fuel more than just a night’s slumber. And, being you, I know how you’re feeling right now — you’re at the edge of the cliff, your wings uncurling behind you, but you’re still afraid, still wondering if this is all too good to be true. If all the excitement you have built up, all the wild expectations and daydreams, are never going to materialize.

They will.

I also know you don’t believe all this positive thinking stuff. You do, to a point - you have changed your way of thinking, have worked through fear, and this isn’t the first cliff you’re standing at the edge of. But you don’t speak affirmations out loud (they only repeat in your head, mantras to reassure you when times are tough or your anxiety flares up) and have never taken any of those online classes that promise to change your dreams into reality.

This comes from the belief that all you need is already inside of you.

And it is.

Things are going to get better. You’ll feel more confident in your own skin, will live life on your terms. You’ll get that insurance and find an amazing, caring doctor who takes wonderful care of you. You’ll get all you need but still have those periods where you want more simply because you can now life comfortably, financially.

But you’ll be busy. Very busy. I am warning you now — those late nights you love to play on the internet and write and read are going to turn into working nights, your mind ablaze with ideas and projects and new things to do. Even more so than now! Your calendar will be full and the phone will be ringing off the hook.

So before all this happens, I’m going to remind you to take it easy. Stop worrying so much. Do a little bit every day. Work from the heart, not the pocketbook (which you’ll be tempted to do — trust me!). And soon, it all falls magically, wonderfully in place.

And yes, we have jetpacks. At least I do.

Love, you


Dear Younger Me,

I have a few things to suggest to you, since we’re working on the premise that I’m sending this back to the past without having received it back then. Which is an odd loop, I know. But roll with it, okay? You’re seventeen years old — there are a ton of things you’re just going with.

And no, I won’t tell Mom.

In about a year or so, you’re going to get a fantastic job at Baxter Healthcare. Cherish it. I won’t spoil the ending, but it does end. Network like crazy. And you know how you spend all that money on manga? Yeah — cool it. You’ll end up never reading half of them, and in ten years, your collection of 300+ will drop to about 25. Save the money! You’re making a ton, going to school, and you really need a savings account.

In my future, you date A off-and-on until your sophomore year of college, when you realize he can be a jerk in more ways than one. So while you’re young and playing DDR every weekend, take some time to just talk to him. It took years for me to finally say he made me feel special whenever he paid attention to me, and then it was done. Over. You’ll end up stuck in this spot where you know you can never be with him, but still love him. And, oh, yes, darling, you do.

You’re going to get screwed over by some people in about 2 years or so. Watch your back and when your instincts say someone’s lying, they probably are.

But I don’t have much more to say. If I change the past too much, I may not end up where I am now, and I’m pretty happy with how things are progressing. Sure, I’m scared of the bold choices I’ve made, but when I sleep at night, it’s with a smile on my face.

Just try to take better care of your health. Pay attention to what you eat. And start bike riding. You love it.

Love, your big sister you

I started crying about halfway through that second letter; love is a hard thing to deal with, especially when the realization comes from left field and you're standing there with this lump you don't know what to do with. I only wish I had been braver in my relationships up till now, and yet, I wouldn't change a thing.

Funny how that works out.

I'm also having so much fun drawing the little illustrations! I want to draw more, and look forward to my little character's next adventure. If I let that fear that my drawings aren't good enough, or are silly, take over, think of all the joy I'd be missing. Just a reminder for those of you still scared of doing something less-than-perfect.

{my own naivete (reverb10 - 20)}

Beyond Avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)

This one’s a no-brainer: get health insurance.

I’ve battled in this particular war for awhile, now, going without for years on end, gaining some when working. This last dry spell is due to my own naivete and nothing else, an expensive (health-wise) lesson to learn.

But I never got on it. Never researched plans or looked over data for public options. Never asked for help or called an insurance agent. Time and time again, I was asked about my progress, reminded I needed to do something about this.

And I didn’t.

I was scared. And yes, there is a certain degree of shame; even though I have applied and paid for plans and gotten rejected, not because of anything I’ve done, but because of my health (which I do as much as I can to keep as good as I can!), I still feel as though I’ve failed because I can’t get anything. I am willing to work and pay for insurance, and instead, I must go and apply for a social aide because they’re the only ones who will give me a chance.

I hope.

(And of course, I am afraid they won’t, that I’ll have tried all the options, have done all I can, and will still be a forgotten statistic paying over $250 a month on medications.)

I’ve started the process here in Arizona, and I think, no, I WILL, finish it. And figure this all out. It is something that bothers me all the time, and I’ve gotta stop making excuses and just do it!

{playing catch-up (Reverb 16-19)}

Ack! I have been writing essays, but at odd times or a day late, and then go to sleep without posting! So I decided to post all of them in one big catch-up post in an effort to get back on track. I really, really want to complete them all (even the one I passed on!) as a personal challenge and then achievement.

Last night, while watching a movie, I started doodling. And then remembered a little doodle I'd done on a Points of Two page and started drawing. I found myself asking, "Why not do little illustrations for your back-log of #Reverb10 essays?"

"Because you're not good at little illustrations like this!" my critic answered.

I shrugged. "So?"

"Fine, fine! Do whatever! But I reserve the right to tell you I told you so when people hate them!" roared the critic.

So I ignored him. I liked making little illustrations! And I want to make more!

All these were made with simple tools: Intense pencils, Caran D'Arch water-soluble crayons, & a water brush. Just a spot of fun on a cool winter night.

Click below to read the four essays from this week. I'll be posting for today's prompt tonight!

♥ samie kira

Friendship. How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?

(I almost decided not to post this, but then remembered I wanted a nice archive of this month of reflection.)

Dear Jun,

I think it’s a testament to our friendship that it survived five years of you being halfway around the world, living on an island nation (despite your fear of large bodies of water; are you sure Lake Biwa didn’t get to you?). I think it is also worth mentioning that we met back when meeting random people from the internet was still in it’s infancy - that is, people were doing it, but it wasn’t as mainstream as it’s become. Now, you sign up for Meetup groups or find dates through websites, and what I’m saying is that it makes our sideways meeting through a friend’s blog rather mundane in comparison.

Alas, it happened.

I always considered my friendship with you and your sister as being a bit equal, since you’re twins and all, and I never saw either of you, before traveling to Japan, without the other. I think you and Meg are adorable when together; in fact, for many years, I thought together, you both made one complete, hilarious person.

Hilarious, manga-loving, Japan-obsessed, fangirl.

I digress. I could sit here and write pages as to how my friendship with the pair of you has changed my life, but I’m working on reflecting this year. My longer piece, “How I Survived the T Twins,” will have to be completed at a later date.

I was insanely excited about you moving closer to me. You’d always been hours and hours or a 13-hour-plane-ride away, so the notion I could not only get to your apartment in an acceptable length of time (usually one cycle through a CD), but return the same day without spending most of my time in a car or on a plane made me giddy.

But this year, in this year, we became so close! You opened your home to me so I could escape the insanity and stress of my own home, and never made me feel bad for doing so. We went to all sorts of events and places, bantered enough to scare at least one member of the meetup group, and introduced me to said meetup group, as well as some of your JET friends.

I used to think I wasn’t worthy of a close friendship set on equal grounds. My best friend from high school always held someone else above me on the hierarchy, tilting our relationship off-balance. And during college, I went through a pretty traumatic friendship ending that left me feeling vulnerable.

You never got angry at me when I said I needed to stop or go home because I wasn’t feeling well. And I love that we can just sit there and do our own things - both on the computer with the TV in the background, comfortable with silence, with each others’ presence. I think, for the first time, I felt completely accepted for who I am, flaws and all.

This new stage in our friendship, created during this year, feels like my first adult friendship. We’re both young women (even though today’s your birthday and you may not agree with me!), single, with our nerdy habits and fannish speak and love of shipping on TV shows, etc. But above that - we can do things on our own. Your apartment became a haven of acceptance, laughter, and adventure, and knowing I could run there after a particularly difficult time just...I used to not have anywhere to go. That’s no longer the truth.

The first time you trusted me with a key to your place, I felt so honored, loved, and trusted. Not only have I discovered a new level of friendship through you, but have begun to regain my self-esteem. There’s so much to be recovered when someone simply accepts you.

Even beyond that - I know I can pick up the phone and call you and it’s like we never parted each other’s company. I will always support you and know you’re in my corner!

For the first time in my life, I feel worthy of friendship and love and all that’s inside of me.

Thank you for giving that all back to me, and for so, so much more.

Love,
Kira

Lesson Learned. What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?

That I can do it.

A few years ago, I was told by a chiropractor that, according to my x-rays, I’m missing cartilage between my last vertebrae and my tailbone. It helped explain my never-ending lower back pain, my leg pain, and hosts of other things, but also acted as a warning - no sitting in one position for longer than an hour, or driving for more than 45. Which sucks, yes, because that means I have to have someone else with me in the car for long trips (and be willing to let them drive my car!).

I never went on road trips, and while I’d push myself to be the driver for days spent out and about with friends, I often paid for it the next day.

So when it came to discussing our cross-country drive to Arizona, I was scared. My brain began to whirl through all the bad things that were sure to happen. After an hour, wouldn’t I feel bad? What about after two? I was slated to drive at least three each day - what would happen then?

But I wanted to move so badly, needed that cleansing of a new life found in the wild west, that I was ready to put on a tough face and deal with it.

There is a difference between believing you can do something and actually doing it.

After the first day, I was a bit sore. And on the second, I had that moment of realization that I could do it. Sure, I had a bit of pain, but here I was, driving across the country, driving three or four hours a day. Now that isn’t much when you’re driving, I’m sure; my father made it in two and a half days and drove half the time. But to me, who was previously told it would be a bad idea, getting past that one hour or even the two hour mark was revolutionary.

No longer limited by what I thought I could do (versus what I really could), the world opened up to me. The drive to Los Angeles is about six hours - could I make it there? What about Las Vegas? San Diego? Texas? Mexico? I’m not dependant on train schedules or others to get me to the places I want to visit. I don’t have to hope for the money for a plane ticket and try to figure out the logistics once landing.

I’ve spent the last six years becoming comfortable with my limits. I never considered pushing against them to see how far I could really go, paralyzed by the fear of pain.

And now? I think I’ve learned my lesson.

Try. What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn’t go for it?

What I want to try next year is something very near and dear to me, important and central, and yet, I am filled with such apprehension about sharing it, I may never even post this. I don’t want to censor myself, though, and don’t know what to do. What if a truth is misinterpreted? Is it better, then, to simply not share it?

Since I don’t know and can accept that, I shall share what I am comfortable with revealing.

I want to try bring more sacredness and tradition into my life in the coming year.

I’ve always been fascinated with the traditions of other cultures, in those thousand-year practices that come naturally to people from countries and cultures more developed than my own. When searching through my own past, I was dejected to find there isn’t much; as a third-generation American (my maternal great-grandparents came here from Germany), there isn’t much left from our roots past a few odd words and insults in a foreign tongue. The only point of interest is my paternal great-grandmother, who was a squaw of the Blackfoot tribe. But I’ve never gone as far as I’d like with such studies since I’m mostly white, and am afraid of rejection.

I have participated in several Japanese traditions, from sitting zazen at a Zen Buddhist temple to doing traditional folk dancing - it is my “adopted” culture (and ironically, I feel more comfortable with that than with possible peoples from the Blackfoot tribe!). I cannot get enough of the magic of Japanese culture, but while I love observing some of their traditions, I can’t get behind all of them. I need my own.

This year had me going out hiking and biking more. There is a majesty to nature and the simple act of traveling through it, a calming of the mind that allows clearer thought and inspiration to strike. Instead of waking to the computer, checking my email, etc, I want to wake to the sun rising, to sitting outside with a hot mug of tea in my hands. I want to light candles or incense and pray before I create.

While I have discovered more wonder in the world this year, I know there is more out there just waiting to be discovered, and I want to try to embrace it.

As to what I tried this year? I tried to get past feelings of jealousy by pouring as much love into the world as I could. When I felt bad that other people received more comments on blog posts than me, I decided to comment as much as I could. When I saw others teaching, I developed new classes. I promoted the work of friends and those who I felt were giving something of great value to the world. All the love and attention I wanted I gave out.

I think that’s only a part. I took all the negativity I experienced and felt and put out positivity. When faced with harsh realities, I became open and loving. Now, I won’t say I did this every time - I’m far from perfect - but it was a noble goal I wanted to strive for, and isn’t that the best anyone can ask of you?

Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?

There were a few things this year that could fit this prompt. I like lists, so here I go!

1. Friendships.

I answered one of the major ones in a previous essay, so I’m not going to re-hash something I’ve already written about (plus, it’ll make me cry again!). I think if the first had not happened, I wouldn’t have been able to truly open up to people this year, and then, think of all the gifts I would have missed! My friendships, both old and new, have begun to bloom in an amazing kaleidoscope of colors; I now know there is always someone to call or message or poke no matter what the occasion - happy or sad. And because of this blooming, I want to celebrate them more, give them the strength and love they’ve given me. I think, then, that I’m really growing up.

And about damn time. I’m at that age where I no longer want my birthday to be in sight!

(Side-note on friendship: If you live in the Phoenix, AZ area, come on down to Changing Hands bookstore tomorrow night at 6pm, where Dawn Sokol will be singing copies of her book “Doodle Diary: Art Journaling for Girls.” It’s such a fun little book, and Dawn’s an amazing, funny, creative gal!)

2. Losing my job.

This might sound weird - how can losing a job heal a person? Don’t people get depressed when this happens?

A long time ago, I worked at Paper Source. I loved that job, and it’s there that I heard the names Teesha Moore and Anahata Katkin - two names that completely changed the trajectory of my entire life. I didn’t stay on, and when that happened, despite how difficult that choice was, I now know it all happened for a reason.

By the time I lost my job in January, I was working too many hours for my body to handle, and while I had begun to heal when working a nice, steady 25 hours a week, pushing it past 30 started doing more damage than good. I’d spend days in bed, was always cranky, and didn’t do much art at all. My creative output was 15% of what it is now.

And looking back, I can see being let go was a blessing. I’m more creative than ever, am living in a different state, and really have no complaints! In the new year, my mother is planning on getting a job - and I know I can just keep doing what I’ve been doing and be absolutely fine.

In fact, I have so many ideas, it’s getting crowded in my head! If only I had the energy to do everything - but then, if I did, I wouldn’t sleep!

3. Support Groups

I can’t say much, by the nature of the organization, but going to Al-Anon continues to be an amazing process. Honestly, I think everyone should go through the twelve steps, if only for personal development.

(For those who don’t know - Al-Anon is the support group for family and friends of someone with an addiction. We work the same twelve steps as those in other anonymous groups and support one another in much the same way.)

Yes, we often cry, but we also laugh and chat and hold each others’ hands. There are people from ALL walks of life there, looking for someone who simply understands what they’re going through. I started attending meetings on a weekly basis around March of this year, and while things can still catch me unaware, I have a much better way to handle and deal with not only the addiction, but anything in my life. There are cracks that are on their way to mending.

As for next year, I feel silly predicting or asking for certain aspects of myself to be healed. I know I’m on a path, but I’m not the one in control, not really. There is that above that nudges me in the right direction, gives me clues as to where I should be going. And I feel that They know better than I where I need to be healed and how that will happen.

My body is always my primary area that needs healing. But on the other hand, I don’t think I’d be doing what I’m doing - creating art, writing, and teaching - if I were perfectly healthy. Or if I was, it wouldn’t be the same. My physical shortcomings influence not only how my work turns out, but the methods I employ to create, and I love it all.

Except on bad flair up days. But I get through those on faith and love, and channel it all into my work.

Can I ask for others to be healed instead? While I have my issues and cracks and steaming fissures in my body and mind, I have also constructed bridges and pathways to help me get through life with a smile on my face. I feel as if I’ve been reborn with this move and the creative explosion that happened in the first few weeks, so I’d love to ask for others in my life to be healed instead of me.

And if I can have a hand in any of it, I’d consider myself eternally blessed. Getting letters and emails about how I’ve helped someone, how I turned them onto art journaling or painting or being creative, makes me cry every single time. I print them and keep them close to my heart and know we all have something to offer, no matter the circumstances of our lives.

{points of two week #46: self-portrait}

Points of Two is an experiment in journaling with myself and Roben Marie! Check out our archives to see the previous weeks' pages.

For this week’s theme, we did self-portraits.

I’ve been doing a lot of art educating, seeing as I never went to art school (I went to an art school, but didn’t major in this kind of art!), and knew that a self-portrait didn’t necessarily mean a picture that looked just like you. Rather, I wanted to do something that represented how I see myself and my life.

I decided to focus on the dichotomy of my life, the mask I wear to appear “normal,” and how I truly feel inside. I used only acrylic paint, a stencil (the girl cut out from the front of a sewing pattern), spray ink, & a plexi heart I got in a clearance pack of shapes. And of course, a sewing machine, because I just adore mine now that it purrs. (Oh, and my Martha Stewart punch, because it's just fun.)

So this week’s page and self-portrait is dedicated to my sisters and brothers who live with chronic illness in whatever form.

And check out Roben-Marie's blog for her story!

{at the end (what to remember) (reverb10 - 14)}

Prompt: 5 minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.

I have found a song that’s five minutes long and use that as a timer (as I love writing to music!). Do I get to finish my sentence at the end, teacher?

Here’s what you need to know:

• You made a mistake and paid for it. While you soon learned to look at it as kismet, the truth is, you messed up. Learn from it, but don’t let it continue to get you down.
• Pay more attention to your bills, especially your COBRA payments. This is another lesson learned.
• Your loved one continued to have problems. Everyone did. You ran away but became the bigger person and forgave even when you were still angry. Remember this!
• You gained confidence in yourself, taught classes, networked, met great people.
• Your dream DID come true! You moved across the country after a year of “planning.” The road trip was fantastic, especially driving down the highway with the windows down, singing along to music with your mother in the passenger seat.
• Things can - and often do - get better.
• Your art has taken a turn. This is okay. You were scared when it first happened, but trust me - it’s all for the best. It’s amazing and deep and easier. Please trust me on this.
• Meg, Jun, Amber, Jessie, Roben, Dawn, Connie, Dina, Kyle, J, N, the three boys at game night, Kenji, & the Mitsuwa meetup group. They all showed you great times and friendship.
• You can do this.
• Live in the moment. You re-found your faith during this year, and must remember to keep it close to your heart, especially when things go good OR bad. It is your guide, along with the Divine.
• I love you.

That’s it. From me to me, Memento-style (minus the countless tattoos).

{all those little pieces (reverb - 14)}

December 14 – Appreciate. What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it? (Author: Victoria Klein)

I’ve been sitting here at my desk trying to think through all of 2010 like a movie on fast forward in my head. What happened in January? February? May? July? These months are so far from me, now, a past I don’t dwell on. Yes, I can remember key moments, but overall?

(It reminds me of cop shows, when they go to interview a possible witness or suspect, and ask, “What were you doing on May 14th of this year?” I’d have no idea. I’d give them a puzzled look, then look at my debit card statement and visual journals.)

I’d have to say, in all honesty, my parents. It sounds corny, but after I lost my job, they could have been on me to get a new one, to push myself harder so I could move out. But while they weren’t that impressed when I started this art thing, they’ve become so amazingly supportive in the past few years, I count myself lucky. If I didn’t have their support (and their willingness to put up with their 26 year-old-college-graduate daughter), I wouldn’t be where I am now - devoting my days to artistic pursuits like art and writing. I wouldn’t have the budding of a career in my adopted field. I know I’d be miserable, in pain, depressed, and living with strangers-as-roommates.

Especially with the move west. I think they saw I needed the change of scenery and stabler weather and brought me in as a partner on this journey. I’m not the child being told what to do - my opinion is now sought and taken into consideration. They could have said, “We’re moving and selling the house. Time to move out!” Instead, they brought me along and gave me the room with the huge closet that now serves as a studio (yes, it’s that big!).

And I think coming to this realization shows how much I’ve really grown up. I think, in past years, I would have said something more about myself - a trait I’d picked up or circumstances directly related to me - instead of looking to an outside person or persons to give my appreciation and gratitude to.

I try to let them know as much as I can how much I appreciate this opportunity to create and really figure things out in two ways: 1.) I show them everything I’ve accomplished, from magazine articles to class sales; 2.) support them in any way I can.

My heart simply swells when I think of where I could be - working in an office somewhere, with time at night for my art yet in too much pain to do anything. I could live with people I couldn’t stand, in a job that slowly sucked away my soul, miserable. I’ve tried the 9-to-5 deal - after the third time I fell asleep on the expressway during rush hour from fatigue and pain, I knew I was no longer simply risking my health, but that of those around me - and it doesn’t work for me. What alternative is there? Retail, where I’d stand for hours and hours? I did that, too, and had days I couldn’t even get out of bed, trapped in my body, mind screaming.

So you could say I owe them so very much.

I support them wherever I can, without complaint. Errands, chores around the house, caretaking (my mother suffers from chronic migraines and my father is retired). I simply love taking care of them with all my heart, and wish I could do more. There’s a part of me that hates being a leech of sorts, despite my own meager income, and I know if I won the lottery, I’d give most of the money to them.

Until this year, I don’t think I’ve ever given them the appreciation they deserve.

I do want to add another thing, because I’ve spied the card on my desk. There’s a woman in my life who has shown me the true magic and wonder of friendship in a deeper and more loving way than I’ve ever felt before, and until this year, I felt I’d never achieve a friendship like I have with her, that I wasn’t worthy. There was a time I was close, but this...it is so amazingly hard to say, “I love you,” to anyone, even my family, and - sorry, a bit of crying here! - when she said it to me for the first time, it meant the world. I think that was the moment I began recovering myself, all those little pieces I’d cast into the shadows because I was afraid of being rejected by the world. I’d do anything for her, no matter what, just as she has for me.

The picture I have of us is the first thing I set out on my dresser.

I think I’m going to show them all this post, because I may not be that eloquent in person (I bounce around way too much!), but want them to see these words, to know how much I love them all. I wouldn’t be who I am right now, where I am - confident in myself, in my abilities, in faith and love - without my parents and best friend.

The picture above doesn’t have much to do with this post, but I want to still share my creative adventures while participating in #reverb10, and so sometimes use my daily photos to illustrate them.

I’d post pictures of those I appreciate, but want to keep some of this for myself and them.

{to get up (reverb10 - 13)}

December 13 – Action. When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step?

I think I need to re-define what I think of as a worthy action. Looking back at how I spend my time, I see many things I currently consider “distractions;” how can going out for the day with my mother to grab crafty supplies be considered a waste of time? A step in another direction? Or enjoying a movie after a stressful time?

Did I get anything related to my job done? No. But I don’t think that’s really what matters.

I have a friend who, like me, loves to write. But we often lament over the fact that we haven’t written anything in a few days, and moan about how behind we are. I have to remind myself, and then her, that most of writing doesn’t happen when the words hit the page, but in the mind. Maybe you hear something that spurs a story, or begin piecing together character traits because of a sign you see while driving. If you were to really sit down without thinking anything about what you were going to write, nothing would come out!

So maybe I didn’t get prints done or make journals or work on that piece of canvas stretched on my studio wall. I did get new yarn and crochet hook to play with adding hand-made flowers to my artwork, new batting for the pencil cases I want to make for people, paint on clearance, and more magnets to make little gifts for people.

Ideas are amazing and wonderful and get you going, but in the end, I’m the one who has to take that yarn and turn it into flowers, or sew the pieces to apply the batting to, or use the paint to make a painting. Grabbing the supplies, then, is a crucial action!

The hardest thing is to get up. To move away from that TV show you’re watching or the book you’re reading and sit down where you’re most productive. For me, that’s my studio space. Or it may be a computer. Maybe it’s walking out your front door to take photos. Whatever it is, you don’t need to focus on a precise set of actions to get you going, you just need to get up.

Since my brain pings all over the place, I’ve found micro-movements, which I learned about from one of SARK’s books, work the best. They’re little actions that take 5-10 minutes - you feel the satisfaction of crossing things off on your to-do list, get projects done over a span of time, and for me, I don’t have to kill my back by sitting in a chair too long.

My next step, I think, is truly sitting down and getting out of my head all the things I want to accomplish. Not a scrawled to-do list, but a big, long, this-is-my-month kind of list, and then go through and break it down into tiny movements that feel like nothing at all but add up to everything.

I’d do all this listing in small doses, of course.

{a landscape of story (reverb10 - 12)}

December 12 – Body Integration This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?

There really comes a time, during a long, repetitive drive through farmland and tiny towns, when nothing can hold your attention. Sure, the first few times along the same route, you notice new things - the purple fences of a horse farm proudly owned by a woman, the water tower painted to resemble a basketball, the cobblestones of a famous central square. And as you continue along the way, you get to the small, changing details. The trees as they begin to sprout leaves. Roads under construction. Product being moved. You create mystery around a large house that always seems to be empty.

The open road, no matter how worn, becomes a landscape of story.

Each house gains fictional occupants, their tales updated on each trip. You note a new car or one missing. The farms you pass begin to spout crops, and watching them grow as you pass each weekend is much better than looking at pictures in a textbook. Soy is short and leafy. Corm has a single, central leaf that points to the sun. Wheat waves. No background in farming, but you can pick out what’s growing and what stage it’s at by sight simply by listening to stories your father tells about his teen summers spent on an uncle’s farm.

Even then, with the stories and the mystery and the growth all around, your attention wains. There simply is no way to recapture your initial excitement over new discoveries, no way to go back to those first few trips.

(And later on, when you’re no longer making the trip, when you’ll never make it again, you will feel nostalgic and wish for just one more drive.)

For me, there is always Mind and Body, two separate parts operating in sync, like dancers in a pool - perfect form, timing, and execution by a disconnected pair. This comes from the pain I feel on a daily - secondly - basis, that never-ending battle between what the mind wants and what the body can deliver. A war has been waging that my brain seems to be losing, or at least has become disheartened that no amount of positive thinking will make the pain fully disintegrate.

A few years ago, I ventured into Wrigleyville in Chicago to practice zazen (meditation & chanting) at a Zen Buddhist Temple. I’ve always been a fan of Japan, especially their language and culture, and thought this would bring it all together with the budding spirituality I was beginning to reconnect with. Upon arrival, I was taken into a room under the stairs that had been converted into a solitary meditation room - small yet plush, with deep red fabrics, candles on shelves, and the stormy smell of incense. My instruction in the proper way to meditate took only twenty minutes, but they felt like five.

It is a practice I’ve adopted and used ever since.

Perhaps there are other ways to do it - I don’t know. What I do know is that, when practiced in conjunction with the deep, mindful breathing exercise I learned from a healer two years ago, I can literally feel the pain just melt away. Two minutes to me turns out to be ten, a phenomenon I never have figured out. And here I thought time would last longer, not contract, while I was trying to focus on nothing!

On one drive out, I sat in the backseat, leaned my head against the window, and closed my eyes. Slowed my breathing. There’s a single point, right at the center of your vision, when you close your eyes, that I find easy to focus on when meditating. Others count their breath, or touch together their fingertips, but I direct my eyes to that point and focus and find I daydream less. My breathing deep (four counts in, four counts held, four counts out, four counts held out), I allowed my consciousness to sink into my body.

Without a mind to focus on events, to process a sound to the point of blocking out others deemed unimportant, I felt bombarded. There was simply too much going on! I felt overwhelmed by the seemingly quiet car becoming a un-synchronized symphony, a mess of noise now uncoordinated by a conscious, comprehending mind. Each came at me at equal level, revealing that noise I’d simply closed my ears to.

And touch! The feel of the cool glass against the side of my face. The exact plushness or hardness of the seat I sat in. The way the edge of the seatbelt rubbed against me. My fingertips against jeans. Feet on the floor. Even my socks and the feel of them inside my shoes.

Traditional Zen meditation has you working with your eyes open, but after those first few moments of bombardment, I was frightened to take in anything else. There was simply so much in the world happening, all in the small swirl of that little car zooming down a highway! So much that people miss every day! Have you any idea how much is truly happening in the world around you?

I sat with these sounds and feelings and scents for a few minutes, letting them drift through my mind, letting them come as waves. They soon quieted a bit, my mind now used to the blankness I’d achieved.

(And yet, I can remember, with clear detail, my amazement at how much was happening, and how I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears!)

There was no dichotomy, here. I simply floated along on the air - part of the air, of the seat, of the car. I remembered science lectures in school, how we’re not a true solid, not really. That when our hands touch something, they’re actually hovering, exchanging atoms with the item we feel at our fingertips. In that moment of meditation, I felt myself give and take and become all around me.

I melted into my pain and let it fade. I let myself open and connect with a Divine source, and felt the arms of love around me.

All in the backseat of a car.

I remember my healer saying to me, when I told her I didn’t meditate because I didn’t have an empty space to do it in properly all the time, “You can meditate anywhere. In a chair.” She flopped into a chair. “Just like this. Eyes closed. You don’t have to have a certain kind of music playing or complete silence. Who says you do? Meditate how you can, as much as you can.”

I certainly took her advice.

And learned a new wonder of the world I, like many, unconsciously yet mostly ignore.