​I have been working on this radiant woman for several weeks and found my final inspirational push after being part of a two-hour Glennon Doyle talk in Virginia last week.  I am loathe for celebrity worship and hadn’t read any of her books, but everyone in my family talks about her insight on just about everything you can imagine from relationships to racial injustice to babies being pulled out of their mother’s arms.  She is a writer, activist and now gaining traction as an incredible change maker.
 
So I showed up curious and a bit skeptical—is anyone really all that.  Two hours later, I am so pleased my daughters read her, listen to her podcasts and take in her.  She is a wonderfully flawed, intelligent, loving spirit and about as “authentic” as someone can be as they speak to a few thousand people.
 
One topic she touched on—and she talks about it a lot-- is how marketers consistently make girls and women feel they aren’t enough…I hate that reality.  Your butt isn’t round enough, hair isn’t shiny enough, stomach isn’t flat enough, blah blah blah.  And about beauty and what really makes someone beautiful—makes them magnetic.
 
She spoke about how filling yourself/surrounding yourself with the things that light you up.  Making sure your joy is a part of your day.  That you are present to notice the beauty that surrounds you in the people you love, the things you love, the places you love--you fill up with joy.  And that joy at lights your face—lights up your being and how you are with others—you exude beauty.
 
I kept thinking about that sense of being beauty-filled as I finished this piece these last few days.  And I thought of the things that make me light up—creating art, spending time with my family, sitting in my backyard and watching nature, beating my guy at chess or at least laughing together as we trash talk each other…and this painting became even more beauty-filled. 
 
Wishing you your beauty-filled space in this day.  Namaste.

​2018 started with great art flow.  I painted daily-- sometimes in 8 hours stretches.    A wonderful beginning and some of my best work.
 
And then in March, it was like the faucet turned off.
 
I felt twinges of panic that my creative juices had been used up...My mojo washed down the drain while cleaning my brushes. 
 
And yet, I kept showing up. 
 
Talk about unsatisfying…
 
I spent hours throwing paint on canvas only to paint over it the next day.  At one point I was rotating between seven paintings waiting for something to happen.
 
In the midst of my creative angst,  I looked for new inspirations.  I made museum  visits.  I splurged on new art reads.    I marched in protest of gun violence.  Practiced yoga and tried to be mindful of all the things that sparked passion.
 
And yet my stall continued.
 
About 2-3 weeks in, a light bulb went off.  Maybe I was moving to a new place—growing.  Maybe this was something to embrace.
 
I reminded myself of how infants advance physically only to regress verbally in the development process.   Growth isn’t linear.   That thought was helpful and I committed myself to be open to where my journey might lead. 
 
Maybe this was a PAUSE.
 
An invitation to be fresh.
 
Perhaps I was exactly where I should be-- this was a bridge to a new journey.
 
Something happened this week.   With Alice Merton cranked up, I found myself dancing -- mesmerized by color and creating with my boldest voice. 
 
 I did my best to stay out of my way.
 
 In it, this work “I Ain’t Pretending,” flowed.
 
I am still mustering the courage to be new.   To not rest in my comfort zone.  I am looking at this pause as excitement. And trusting I will always have much to say.
 
Oh… this creative journey forever surprises.  Wishes for all your cylinders be firing and finding ways to express them…Namaste.

I am not sure why, but I couldn't shake the urge to paint Rosa Parks this week...something about her courage kept whispering to me and so I surrendered and followed my heart to this primitive work.  Many treasures & symbols hidden within--it was serendipitous that as I felt something was missing, I found packaging from a 1950s pack of pins--the outside read: "extra sharp points, easier penetration" and the package found a home at the base of her foot.  Not lost on me was that Rosa was a seamstress who lost her job once she took her seat on the bus.  

This graceful, unflappable woman was asked how she stood her ground when the driver ordered her to move from her seat:  "determination covered my body like a quilt on a winter night"  May we all feel such strength & grace on our own revolutionary paths.  Namaste.

Acrylic, pastel, colored pencil, paper, Tibetan prayer flag, vintage stamps & packaging, grocery bags, vintage sewing patterns, newspaper