It’s Sunday which means, it’s time for another Sunday’s with Beaumont conversation.
Today, Beau tries a little Latin with his it’s time to ‘carpet the day’ with fun attitude! Ok. It’s actually carpe diem but his Latin isn’t very good…
He does hope you come and join in the fun on his blog today! He’s hoping you click the link below and come play!
It is early morning. Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I are indulging in our first saunter of the day. Night has slipped into the envelope of eternity that waits at the edge of the far horizon. The sky is pale blue streaked with rose.
The Wolf Moon is high, still visible in night’s lingering caress.
As I walk and Beau sniffs, my mind drifts full of images and thoughts floating. They feel light and buoyant, like the chunks of ice that clog the slow-moving waters of the river below the bridge where I stand to gaze at the moon.
When I come home, I sit down at my computer to write and the words and images that lingered in my mind pour out.
Wolf moon dancing in day's light streaking naked across the sky Darkness slips silently away, its caress as soft as a lover kissing her beloved adieu. Love sighs a glorious prayer of gratitude as earth turns her cheek to welcome the sun's passionate kiss.
A dear friend asked me the other day how creativity seemingly just keeps flowing out of me.
I laughed and replied, “I have no idea…” And then after a moment’s reflection replied, “I just accept its presence. I listen to its flow. I don’t question it or criticize its outpourings. I allow them.”
Which is how yesterday’s #ShePersisted painting happened. By allowing it to appear.
I didn’t know what I was going to paint when I began to create a background in my art journal yesterday. I thought I might paint some botanicals and write about the longing for spring that seems to have arrived early in my heart this year. It’s only the end of January and I’m already dreaming of frost-free mornings and buds popping up under the warmth of the sun’s encouragement.
And that ain’t happenin’ yet!
I live at the edge of Rockies, in the land where the plains meet the undulating foothills. Where sky soars forever, and sometimes, so does winter.
We still have 3 months of indeterminate weather. Cold snaps. Polar Vortices. Arctic chills. They’re all in the wind. All a possibility between now and the May 24th weekend when ‘they’ say it’s safe to once again plant gardens.
Painting botanicals seemed like an antidote to the grey on brown world outside.
The muse has other ideas. My creative flow has its own rhythm.
When the inspiration for the #ShePersisted Series of quotes and images began, I thought it would last… just a little while. 1. 2. Maybe 3 paintings. 12 at the most.
Yesterday’s was No. 65. Somewhere between creating the background and writing out what was on my heart, letting myself fall into the flow of creativity rising up from deep within my belly.
No. 65 – #ShePersisted
They said, why must you keep fighting for more. This is all we can give you right now.
She said, I will never stop fighting for my rights until you stop holding onto the rights that are rightfully mind.
This morning, the quote for No. 66 appeared. I wasn’t expecting it or looking for it, but there it was, streaming out of the thoughts that appeared from the words I felt rising up while I stood on the bridge. I almost did a happy dance when the quote wrote itself out.
And…. here’s a ‘teaser’ – “They said, stop shining so bright. She said, I am made of stardust. I am Star Woman shining bright so you can see in the dark.“
I can already envision the imagery and energy of the piece. I feel the essence of the Star Woman shining.
And that’s the thing about the muse. When we listen, she flows freely. When we allow the force of her flow to draw us out of our comfort zones, we fall with abandon into the waters of creative expression flowing wild and free.
Namaste
The Spirit of the Wolf Clan ©2021 Louise Gallagher
spirit of the wolf clan running through my veins Fierce. Loyal. Fearless. streams of wildness flowing endlessly through the vast unknowing of the mysteries of life endlessly flowing through the untamed fires of my heart burning away all resistance to run Wild. Bold. Free.
The moon. The moon. Oh galaxy of night dreams…
Okay. So that line just wrote itself out when I started to type. It’s kind of a prequel to Spirit Wolf Clan.
It all started with a prompt I read yesterday on Goff Jame’s blog. I followed its thread and landed at Eugi’s Causerie where I found the prompt with instrustions to:
Go where the prompt leads you and publish a post on your own blog that responds to the prompt. It can be any variation of the prompt and/or image. Please keep it family friendly. Prompts close 7 days from the close of my post.
The Spirit of the Wolf Clan is where the prompt took me – first to the poetry, then to the artwork.
All of its creative expression inspired by a prompt to write something, anything, about this month’s Wolf Moon.
Someone asked me yesterday how it is that I just seem to keep creating. How does it happen, they asked.
I don’t really have an answer as much as a sense of memory beyond this known world… A feeling of being open to the whispers of all of life flowing around me and feeling that presence stirring the creative forces deep within the crucible of my belly.
Once stirred, the forces start bubbling up in a wild dancing concoction of words and images weeping through every pore of my body, yearning to get out.
So I let them out.
Perhaps, told my friend, it is that I listen to the whispers and do not censor myself. I don’t criticize, condemn or judge my work-in-process nor in its relative completed state (relative because… well there’s always word for one more brushstroke or one more edit out of a word). I look at it through loving eyes and ask, “What are you here for me to embrace? What windows into my creative nature are you seeking to be opened?”
See, I believe that whenever we say something like, “I”m not very creative,” it’s actually our yearning to experience our creative nature calling out.
We can see through the window, we sense creativity — how would we recognize what we judge to be its absence if we didn’t? — but we’ve never opened the window to let the essence of its nature flow in and out and all around us.
Yesterday, I read a prompt. It stirred the creative forces deep within my belly. I looked through the window of my soul, deep into their depths and opened the window.
… and the spirit of the wolf clan flowed free.
Namaste
___________
Do pop over to Goff Jame’s place and open the window to his creative force. And once you’ve sated your senses there pop over to Eugi’s Causerie and immerse yourself in all the poetry and sights of the Wolf Moon.
How many times have you heard yourself say, or someone else tell you, “It’s all in the timing and now is not the time.”
Or, “When it’s the right time, you’ll know.”
The question is, who determines the timing or whether it’s ‘the right time’ or not.
Fact is, if I want something to change and you don’t, you’ll find a way to tell me my timing is off. It’s a much easier let-down than, “No”.
Years ago, when I started an art studio in the homeless shelter where I worked, there was a man who every day sat in the large day area on the second floor of the shelter and painted.
As the only shelter open 24/7, it was a busy place. Full of people and noise, comings and goings that would sometimes erupt into loud arguments or angry slamming of fists against walls or people too.
The windows on the second floor were 20ft above the floor. They let in light but no view.
Everyday I would stop by the table where he sat and invite him to come up to the 6th floor studio space. It’s quieter there, I’d tell him. The view is fabulous (which it was. Floor to ceiling windows looking out over the river valley and the hillside beyond). And we’ve got coffee, I’d tell him and lots of space to spread out.
And everyday he would say, “Not today. It’s not time yet.”
One day, I asked him, “Have you picked a date yet?”
“A date for what?” he asked.
“To start coming to the studio,” I replied.
“Not yet,” he said.
“Then why not make today the day. Why not make time now?”
On that day he decided to do it.
He never looked back. And though he was still living in a homeless shelter, sleeping with 1,000 roommates every night, his creative expressions began to blossom and bloom and flourish. As did his sense of self, his pride, and his connections to others.
From selling his work in our various art shows, to painting, writing music and poetry and acting in plays and playing his music on stage as part of the various productions as a member of The Possibilities Project, he made time for creative expression. One year, he even went to New York to participate in an Off-Broadway production of Requiem for a Lost Girl that was germinated in that space by the amazing Onalea Gilbertson, His gifts are many. His contributions, significant. (He’s also the man who gave me the gift of music for two of my poems (The Gift).
I like to think it all began with making the decision to change where he sat.
As humans, we like to find reasons to resist change. We like status quo, even when it limits our freedom, our self-expression, our hearts.
Is there something in your life calling out to be changed, but you keep waiting for ‘the right time’ to make it happen?
Is there something you dream of creating that you are resisting expressing because you tell yourself the timing’s not quite right?
Decide now. Decide right where you’re sitting, right now… Now’s the time.
Now, take a step and then another. Make it happen.
____
None of us is forbidden to pursue our own good.
Meditations, Marcus Aurelius
____
“Creativity,” she said, “Is a muscle. Use it or lose it.”
At least, that’s what I remember the muse whispering in the sweet nectar of that space just before the dawn where I drift in blissful dreamland, just before Beaumont the Sheepadoodle comes and sticks his wet nose in my face.
It’s his signal. “I have to go. Out. Now.”
Of course, The ‘now’ when it’s -23C (-9F) with the windchill takes a few minutes to happen. By the time I’ve layered up, Beau is at the front door. If he could cross his legs I’m sure he would.
We went out. Walked the quiet, frozen streets for 15 minutes while he contemplated the perfect spot to do his business.
Beaumont is a master at picking his moments (and spots). If I’ve made him wait he’ll make me wait too.
But, back to the muse and her whisperings.
Since I can remember, I have loved writing prose and poetry. I’m not a rhymer. I just feel great joy experimenting with the words to create images and connections and ideas. I love playing in the flow.
On Monday, the inspiration to play came from a poetry prompt at dVerse.
Today’s challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a quadrille poem. If you’re new to dVerse or the quadrille, it’s simply a poem of 44 words (excluding the title.) You MUST use the word “way” in your poem.
I accepted the challenge and the words flowed.
The first line that came out of my pen was, “That’s no way to be a lady.”
I laughed and invited it to wait. “You’re much more of a #ShePersisted kind of prompt,” I told it and saved it in my #ShePersisted quotes file. I know it will be waiting for me to pick up the brush and start creating anew.
‘Cause that’s the thing about inspiration. It doesn’t have a best before date. It only asks that we take note and trust that when the time is right, it will be there inviting us to come alive in its vision unfolding.
I began again on divining the essence of the ‘way’ to write my Quadrille. This time, the words settled onto the page like honey melting in a mug of hot lemon tea. The perfect blend of sweet and sour. Smooth and syrupy.
Okay. So it wasn’t as fast as honey melting in hot tea. It took several hours to get the words to sing within the parameters of a Quadrille. Exactly 44 words (not including the title).
But that’s the thing about creativity. It isn’t a once in a lifetime occurrence. It’s an, ‘I’m always flowing in and all around you’ kind of medium. Like the tide. Always ebbing and flowing. Constantly in motion.
My job isn’t to watch the waves roll in. My job, my passion, my creative urge is to dive in and ride the arc, carving my words onto the page like a surfer catching the break, swooping and dipping as she rides the curl, body balanced within the crashing swell until there’s no wave left to ride and she paddles back out to catch the next one and the next.
Creativity is everywhere. Creativity has no beginning nor end. It just is. A force of nature. A fact of life.
Which is why, I didn’t stop with writing a Quadrille. I painted it too.
Ahh…. that muse. She takes such delight in play.
Go Right ©2021 Louise Gallagher Thinking I’d find a shortcut to happiness, I blindly followed the road most travelled. The road veered left. My heart said, go right. I followed my heart. There are no shortcuts to happiness. There is only the way of the heart leading through Love.
_________________
And P.Ss — the song that was singing in my head as I painted happened to be a song written in the 60s by Malvina Reynolds and made popular by the great Pete Seeger.
Perhaps it will inspire you too!
It is one of life’s challenges. To be our authentic selves in a world that wants us to fit in.
Finding a balance between satisfying the inherent human need for belonging and our individual desire to be unique is not easy. It is, however, imperative. To not be authentic drains you of lifeforce. It puts a ‘cramp on your style’ and can leave you feeling dissatisfied, disappointed and disillusioned.
Years ago, when I became a stockbroker, (I know. Unbelievable right?) I thought I had to dress the part. Conservative blue suit. White blouse. You know. Transform myself into the image of what I thought a female broker should look like, á la Anne Hathaway’s character Andy in The Devil Wears Prada who dresses up fashionista style only to get all the attention she wanted while losing her self-respect.
Fortunately, I figured out tailored suits are not my style and left the sector. Ok. There was more to why I left the sector but I like the poetic imperative of that statement so I’m sticking with it!
Eventually, by the time I started working at an adult homeless shelter, I had become comfortable with being me. I dressed to suit me. Listened to my heart and not everyone else’s opinions. Except, at the shelter, I worried that ‘all of me’ might be hard on those I deemed to have nothing and thought I should ‘tone-down my sunshiney ways and dress-down to fit in’. (I know. Can you spell ‘condescending’?) I quickly realized that being true to myself was more honest and authentic than fitting into what I thought other’s needed me to be, especially when in a place as dark and heavy as a homeless shelter, light and sunshiney ways are vital! As are honesty and authenticity.
Yet still, that little voice in my head (you know, ‘the critter’) sometimes like to sneak in and whisper not-so-sweet-nothings about how I need to tone myself down, or not be so… me. Sometimes, I think the critter is only happy when I do my best to be invisible!
No. 63 of my #ShePersisted Series says, No Way. Uh uh. Not happening.
Because, seriously? Why contort and distort who you are to fit into some uncomfortable-to-you measurement of what works for others when you are born to stand out in whatever way works for you?
Thoughts from my meditation on the question of Love — it is the theme this week of the year long Contemplative Listening and Writing course I began earlier this month.
Holding onto nothing, I become all that I am.
With every exhale, Love rushes into the spaces left behind where once I held onto everything.
Holding onto nothing, Love is all there is.
Holding onto nothing, Love pours in.
_______
Love Pours In
©2021 Louise Gallagher
I forget
where breath begins
and hold onto nothing
but my last breath
fearing there will never be
another to fill
the void.
Letting go
life rushes in and fills
the space
with nothing
more than
my last breath
moving into
the next.
In the ebb
of life’s
constant flow
holding on
fills the void
and I become
each breath
letting go.
And Love pours in.
I wrote this poem several years ago. I was reminded of it this morning when I started to share a painting I created on the weekend and realized, I needed to speak of Love.
I wanted to hold onto what I had intended. I had to let go.
And as it always does. That’s where love found me. That’s where love poured into the spaces created in letting go.
Sundays With Beaumont – Where’s My Gift?
Me: C’mon Beau. We’ve got to get up.
Beau: Why? I’m cosy.
Me: We’ve got Wilma’s birthday party to go to at the park.
Beau: Whaaatttt???? A party! Why didn’t you say so!
Me: I just did.
Beau: Haha. Yeah. I know. But why didn’t you say so early so I could have put on a tux and maybe brushed my hair.
Me: Oh don’t worry about that. I was thinking of putting on your coat.
Beau: The cow coat!!!!!!!
Me: Yeah. The cow coat.
Beau: Not happening.
Me: But it’s cold outside.
Beau: I repeat. Not happening.
…Does he or doesn’t he? Wear the coat? Come visit Beau on his blog today and find out! There’s birthday treats too!
Just CLICK HERE to read the rest! 🙂 he’ll be so happy to see you! With or without his cow coat.
When the email arrived carrying a link to ‘The Gift’ I wasn’t really expecting it.
Sure, when Ian Hanchet (the gift giver) commented on my poem “If I Could...” he wrote, “I was inspired to immediately pick up my guitar and melody flowed from me. I recorded it on my phone, but I need to become more acquainted with the rhythms of your poem so that I may do each phrase justice. Too bad my life just got super busy. Maybe Next week I can return to this work of wonder.” When I read his words I thought, ‘how lovely’ and promptly wrote back to thank him and to let him know how excited I was he liked the poem that much.
And then, I let it go.
Yesterday, Ian emailed to say he’d finished the song and included the audio link.
I cried as I listened to it. Not just because Ian is a talented musician with the kind of voice that makes me feel like I am sipping an after-midnight scotch in a moody, crowded jazz bar somewhere along a dimly lit side-street in Soho only those who ‘know’ can get to after going down a flight of stairs leading to a deep red door that opens into the mystical world of late-night jazz, but also because in his gift I received something beautiful and precious — The gift of being seen.
I wrote back to Ian after listening to what he calls, ‘our song’ – which in and of itself feels like a rare gem to be treasured always – and told him how special his gift is.
Ian’s gift also carried me back in memory to another gift of a song I received years ago from my dear friend, artist, musician, writer Max C.
In 2014, when I changed the name of this blog to Dare Boldly, Max had read my declaration of identity and felt inspired to send me a piece of music he’d written to accompany it. He asked me to record my voice reading the declaration and then, he put it to his music.
Like Ian’s gift, Max made me feel ‘seen’.
I hadn’t forgotten about Max’s gift, though I hadn’t thought of it in a long while. What I had forgotten, however, was my declaration of identity – it’s the one I share at the top of this post.
Full circle.
That’s what Ian’s gift brings me. Full circle back to remembering – I am the song. My song.
What a powerful and liberating gift. To remember…
We are each ‘the song’ of our life.
We are each, The Song Maker. The Song Singer. The Song.
Let us always sing outloud. Let us each sing of truth, beauty, kindness, hospitality, generosity of spirit, Love.
Let us sing each other awake in a world we create together of beauty, awe and wonder.
Thank you Ian for your gift of many gifts.
I revel in gratitude.
___________
PS — along with being a musician, singer/song-writer, poet, Ian is an amazing writer, deep thinker, music historian and generous human being. You can find him on his blog, Vignettes and Bagatelles.
Click HERE to listen to ‘our song’ If I Could Give You My Heart.
What I Want.
©2021 Louise Gallagher
I want to live in wonder to see the world fresh as a new born slippery wet and squirming from the birth canal falling into arms of love holding me safely wrapped in swaddling cloth sewn with velvety silken streams of laughter and joy flowing all around me. I want to live in the awe of life unfolding right here, right now in this moment giving birth to possibilities awakening within the unfathomable beauty of the world pounding through my veins pumping my heart full of the mystery of this morning reincarnating itself within the dark of night passing through star lit skies and moonbeams streaming into day bursting at the seams of my anticipation of the wonder of it all when I open my eyes, wide and stretch my arms even wider to that place where my heart breaks wide open to catch falling stars rain drops and tears I want to scream above the howls of wolves on full moon nights and wind swept mountain tops don’t you dare cry for me Argentina there are no tears needed to wash away this wonder of living beyond the limitations of my fear unravelling in the fullness of every courageous step I take to drive me far from that place where I believe fear will keep me safe from feeling the slings and arrows of fate there is no arrow that can pierce my heart when my heart is open there is no riptide that can pull me under when my arms are open wide and there is no wind that can blow me over when I stand strong strong enough to hold on to only love because I know there is nothing to fear but fear itself and I am born to be wild wild beautiful free. I am born born to be free to cry and laugh and say I love you because I love you is my battle cry my morning song my heart's delight and nothing can stop me singing I am fearless and fierce enough to let life get the best of me because that that is what I want to live in the endless wonder of being me.
my humanity in written form
A little BIT OF THE EVERY DAY............A good writer is basically a story teller, not a scholar or a redeemer of mankind. - Isaac Bashevis Singer
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