HungryForLife

Artful Blogging

I began blogging in 2005 as a team of bloggers sharing our journeys as Virtual Assistants and building, launching, and running our own businesses from home. Blogging was new to me but I quickly learned how to write with the intention of starting a conversation, sharing authentically, and seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary.  In 2009 I took the leap and created this blog to share my weight loss journey, writing, creative endeavors, and well…my life.  Artful Blogging introduced me to a community of kindred souls seeking connection for their art, passion for living their dreams, and real people striving to find a balance with who they are and what they do in this world.

Stampington & Company publish only four scrumptious issues per year. I relish my time with these pages—curling up with a cup of tea and turning the ringer on the phone to mute. The smooth thick matte texture of the paper appeals to my photographer’s eye, the colors and detailed photos burst off the page in swirls of inspiration. Reading these blogger’s journeys through art and words reveals a theme of serendipities that occur upon embarking on blogging—of finding their true north and living their dreams.    

 

fantastical fantasy

As a teenager I lost myself for weeks in the Four Lands created by Terry Brooks in the Original Sword of Shannara trilogy. I ached to create a world of good versus evil populated with unexpected heroes and dark hooded villains. I learned to write by reading—fantasy books engaged my imagination and allowed me to sprout dragon wings. As an adult when our daughter was born I even chose her name from the third book in the Shannara series; Brin (a headstrong princess disguised as a peasant boy) and Leah (a magical city).

My passion for fantasy has not ebbed over the years but I find I am choosy where I invest my time and A Storm of Swords is almost one thousand pages and I have savored every word George R.R. Martin penned in this tome. This is Book Three of a planned eight book series: A Song of Ice and Fire.

Martin’s Seven Kingdoms of Westeros has been a scintillating adventure lesson in character development. The series has a plethora of characters that are vividly realized—the proud voices of kings and knights ring clear and true from a world similar to medieval England. Martin masterfully crafts relationships and forges unforeseen connections. I found the chapters written from a child’s point of view the most captivating and inviting which has fueled my writing with alternating shadows and spotlights contrasting innocence and malice.

Curious if there are dragons? Of course there are, but I’m bewitched by the dire wolves. Have you seen the television series of Book One: Game of Thrones on HBO? Incredibly well cast and deeply detailed I'm engrossed even when I have to look away from the realistic combat scenes. You?

 

The Weird Sisters

I was intrigued by the quote on the cover of the book: “See we love each other. We just don’t happen to like each other very much.”  My half-sister is eleven years older than I and so I grew up as an only child yearning for a sister. Siblings and birth order are fascinating to me—my husband is one of nine!  

I was a loner as a kid and books were my whole entire world. These three sisters and their parents relate through books so much so that their dad speaks to them primarily in Shakespeare quotes even sends this message in a crisis:   “Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods/For our beloved mother in her pains. And this is how Cordy knew our mother had cancer. This is how she knew we had to come home.”

I was entranced by the unique writing style Eleanor Brown chose to tell this story: first person plural, narrated from the collective perspective of the three sisters. How cool is that? Awkward to read at first? Yes, but now I’m on a mission to experience more books written in first person plural. Can you recommend any? Have you ever written form this perspective and if so how’d it go? You can read more about Eleanor’s unique choice of style here.

the war of art

This book rocked my world, kicked me in the butt, eradicated my excuses, and was the ultimate wake-up call for me to sit down and do my creative work. Must, must read. 'Nuff said.

who was I then?

Day 19 of Verb Tribe we were asked to choose a childhood photo and look at it and then write, Who was I then?

I have always loved this photo of me and mom but I've only looked at 'her' for clues to what she was thinking, what that hidden smile meant, how she's holding me. The photo says 1967 making me three but I look younger. I thought this photo would trigger loss and sadness but I feel only joy and love looking at it now.

Here are a few excerpts from my bag:

"On my God! I was gorgeous—I look like a plump angelic cherubim—my eyes are wide with wonder and I am besotted with my mother—I love her with every iota of my being and she belongs to me."

"My happiness bubbles up from a hidden well and this pure joy cannot be contained—I laugh, I spin, I run, I swim, I play; I am love in action. In my heart there is only me and my mother—I am safe."

My mom knew how to love and dote on me as a child—I was her life (she'd been told not to have another child after my sister, eleven years my elder). But she was relationally and emotionally unavailable as I grew and in my adolescence I fought (as only a teenager can) for my freedom and left home at sixteen. We were still close after that but on my terms. When my daughter was born she transferred all the love and doting to her.

Mom became ill with dementia about ten years ago and I was finally able to celebrate the independent spirit she gave me and the example of living as a non-conformist and always doing things her way as a business owner and optimist.

I did not love mom like I did in this photo until the last few years of her life as her caretaker, our roles reversed. I would always tell her she was safe and loved as I tucked her in (exactly as she had done for me, I was terrified of the dark) and I gave her my lifelong Teddy to keep her safe and I would say I love you...and often she would parrot the words back and sometimes not respond at all. But one clear night after a particularly good day I said, Goodnight mom, I love you. And she said with emotion and joy, Oh, I love you more every day. That's what this photo means to me and who I was...and who I am still today.

 Mom would have turned eighty-one today—happy birthday mom!

 

writing a peel

Day 6 our Verb Tribe prompt was to describe a banana and write it on the banana peel! Then we wrote on our bags how writing was like peeling a banana. This was one of my FAVS—it had great appeal!

I loooooooved writing on my banana! I am aware I want to bring that same sense of excitement, wonder, adventure to every page. To laugh out loud and say, that's so crazy—where's my banana!

I had NO idea what to write on my bag so I started here:
So the HUGE aha for me was 'how to peel a banana like a monkey' this cute YouTube video I watched a few weeks ago. How? From the other end! Why? It's so much easier ;) I had never in my whole life even considered peeling a banana from the other end!

On my bag I wrote: "...come at it from the other end, backwards, upside down, inside out, mirror image, flipped, slipped, and dipped"
"peeling it looked like a flower blooming—an ivory tower flower with word petal leaves...it revealed the inner core of deliciousness and vulnerability that must be handled with tenderness and respect—or bitten with teeth and devoured!"
"it's a strip tease, a revelation, a hidden goodness and wholeness...perfect just as it is..."
"Oh my, peeling a banana is like writing b'cuz they both reveal works of God."

Did I really write all that!?

my three

Day 37 of VerbTribe asked us, What commitments will you make to yourself about writing? Create a list of three commitments (no more) that you will make to yourself.

I commit to showing up daily to the page. I commit to opening my heart allowing it to flow. I commit to seeing more, looking three times, popping open my third eye and sense of wonder. I commit to letting go fully and standing with arms wide open ready to receive. I commit to embracing every ending as the new beginning it is reborn as. I commit to living gratefully for the abundance I am blessed to have. I commit to embracing those ‘shitty first giraffes’! I commit to laughing until ‘tears roll down my legs’. I commit to being still and hearing my wise voice within. I commit to living out loud so my stories will ‘reverberate off the red cliff walls’. I commit to leaping off dramatic edges; beyond slinky shadows; over impassable mountains; into a net of faith—every time.

My three:
Show up.
See.
Let go.

my left hand

Day 14 of Verb Tribe we were invited to write our daily prompt, ten minutes on a paper bag, with our nondominant hand. I met this invitation with full resistance which looked like closing the prompt and doing everything else but write with my left hand. Eventually I came full circle and returned to the prompt and to the page, or bag. Here's what I shared after the prompt:

Oh resistance! Huge crooked letters...and then an in rushing of sadness...this is how mom wrote at the end...oh how this frustrated her...I wrote through the sadness and struggle until the end of my bag. Then I flipped it over and with my right hand, wrote this:

Say

It's too hard, she says.
Keep at it, I encourage.
It looks like chicken scratch, she says.
I can read it...kinda.
Pfffffft. She says.
Mom—you can do this.
She picks up Mount Pen.
I don't say
it is chicken scratch.

Her cursive handwriting
was the first to go
Along with memories
of where she lived
and who I was.

She moves Mount Pen
incrementally
the letters of her name
printed like a kindergartener.
Great job! I say.
If you say so, she says.
I do.

the phoenix rises

On Day 30 of Verb Tribe, this was our prompt:

Gather up all your writing from this class--all those paper bags, all that filler paper. Take a photo of
everything you have done.
And then burn everything.
Writing is process, not product.

I couldn't do it. I'm a keeper. I rationalized that I wanted to make a piece of art out of them. Reality: I was attached to outcome and product. My proof. I took photos of every page. I made blog posts out of several of my favorites. Then yesterday, weeks after this prompt, I shared this with my Tribers:

I've been clearning for the past few weeks (cleaning and learning) letting go, giving away, repurposing. I gave my mom's shells to a young woman I had seen doing crafts in front of a local cafe. Huge letting go. Today, April 1st is the anniversary my husband and I celebrate; the day we met twenty-nine years ago. Last night at midnight I tapped the final words of my screenplay—a year long endeavor wrapped in the last 31 days of March. All of these moments coalesced and today I was ready to release my words to the elements.

I clutched my pages to my chest all the way to the grill on the patio. Dear God it's like letting go of a child...

I lit the brown paper with my Zena Moon matches and whispered a prayer to my muse and the universe and my dead loved ones. Here is my offering. Here is my heart—be gentle.

Once the pages caught I was giddy with seeing the colors and patterns and reading words before they ceased to exist. The brown paper bloomed into a fiery rose and cooled into an ash cabbage before wisping away on the breeze. Gorgeous. Exhilarating.

Realization dawned. I could burn my book and start again. Knowing that the story was IN me was a breaking open AHA moment. The phoenix rises from the ashes. I am grateful I waded through resistance to gift myself with this glorious burning moment.

the things we carry

On Day 26 of Verb Tribe Patti invited us to empty out our purses and describe the contents and what we might deduce about their owner. This was an enlightening and lightening exercise in letting go! Here’s what I wrote:

This exercise was funny and fun for me! I have SO much stuff!  I have resisted carrying a purse for years and had a wallet in my back pocket which was simple and freeing. As I have transitioned to a part time job outside of my home (and clothes sans pockets) I have accumulated enough items and resigned myself to using a purse regularly. I usually still take my small wallet with me in my pocket and leave the bag in the car. ;)

My bag contains 20 items: Battered sunglasses, key ring with six keys (3 deadbolt, 2 auto, one mailbox) a 'save the tat-tas' fob and a Planet Fitness ID, two lip balms, one hair-clip, one wallet with ID, debit cards and twenty dollar bill, one wallet with membership cards, two wrapped toothpicks, one nail file, one small pink bottle of lotion labeled 'body lotion', one clear plastic case of business cards with beach photo, one tiny travel bottle of eye drops, one note pad reads 'love is everything' on cover, one ball point pen (free from biz), three mini yellow post it note pads, a travel bottle of Advil, one pair of reading glasses in flowered case.

This woman does not drive a new model car—no electronic key fob, possibly out of thrift or a preference for older dependable less complicated cars. She either has several deadbolts on her front door or more than one key at a workplace, she receives her mail in a locked box so may live in an apartment or complex where mail is not delivered to each house.

She has a sense of humor: save the tata’s. She is conscious of her fitness and belongs to a health club but there is no evidence she attends. She has a spiritual awareness: ‘love is everything’ on notepad yet the pages are blank; she chose a nature scene for her business cards, the beach, possibly a sacred place for her.

She is thrifty (and ingenious) note the scotch tape on the sunglasses. They are extremely worn and scratched yet still salvaged—she likes what works and is not ready to let go of the old and invest in the new.  Note the thin men’s style wallet filled with membership cards: Sam’s Club, three movie clubs, a library card. She is a movie fan, probably attends matinees: the movie cards hardly have any magnetic strip left on them and not the two wrapped toothpicks possibly for dislodging stray popcorn kernels.

This woman is prepared: for chapped lips, dry skin, headaches, dry eyes, putting hair up. Possibly over prepared! Yet note the lack of a swissarmy knife or cell phone.  This woman may be in need of succulence as she prepares for lack of moisture: lotion, lip balm, eye drops. This woman travels by plane often enough to use travel size approved and labeled items: lotion, Advil, eye drops, lip balm.

This woman carries little cash but the tucked away twenty dollar bill may be for emergencies or make her feel secure knowing that she could splurge on that one indulgence she sees if she really wants to.

This woman is probably in mid her mid-forties and wears contacts (eye drops are contact lens moistener) but she also needs reading glasses on top contacts to see up close. The glasses are not prescription but drugstore designer chic reading glasses: noting thrift and preparation but also necessity. The decorative flair may be to compensate for begrudging that necessity.

I challenge you Dear Reader to peek into the dark recesses of your purse or bag—dump it out and let the light shine in those crevices! This seemingly silly exercise offered me an important glimpse into who I am, what I carry with me and why. I have been actively aware of lightening my load on every trip since this writing and I was successful in returning only half the items to my purse. Being lighter is a release I wasn't aware would add a spring to my step, a straightness to my spine, and an overall airy feeling of floating instead of trudging through my day.

I'm curious to hear about the things you carry!