I am Alive. What a Beautiful Gift.

There’s a meme going around social media sites asking readers something like, “If you remember playing outside until the street lights came on, or, If you remember running barefoot in the yard and drinking out of the garden hose, or squishing the orange dot into the margarine that came in a bag…. then you had a great childhood. (or something like that)

We baby-boomers, we like to tell our offspring, had it good. Freedom to play outside without fearing strangers. Freedom to go to the park on our own, play on death-defying carousel thingies with metal bars without fearing we’d puke (’cause that would be so cool anyway!) or chip a tooth on the wooden teeter-totter with the metal handlebar – which I did but nobody seemed phased by the blood running out of my mouth as I ran across the cement to the swings that had metal seats and rusted chains, determined I’d finally be able to pump so hard I went all the way around over the top.

Without a parent or other adult around, there was no one around to tell me to stop — and I definitely wasn’t going to listen to my five years-older-than-me-brother who’d jumped off the teeter-totter while I was midair and precipitated my hard-landing and chipped tooth.

We baby-boomers had it good.

I wonder sometimes, where were our parents? Why did they give us so much freedom?

I don’t believe it wasn’t because they didn’t care, or thought the world was a super-safe place to be. They’d just come through WW2. How could they think that? How could they believe there weren’t dangers out there?

What I’ve come to believe is that they were war-weary. Tired-out from deprivation and rationing, tired-out by fearing would they or their loved ones get through it at all. Tired-out by wondering would it ever end.

And when it did end, they wanted to believe there was nothing to fear and so… they let their offspring, we the baby-boomers, run free as if we had not a care in the world as they continued to do what they’d always done, take care of business.

Busy building families, rebuilding towns and cities, homes and lives, busy trying to bury the past beneath the memories of all they’d seen and lost, they didn’t have time to go to the park or watch our every move or schedule our every second.

They were in survival mode. Mental health, PTSD, Trauma-informed practices weren’t yet a thing. All they could do was keep surviving.

Covid has led me to this awareness.

As the world struggles to open up again and we learn to adjust to living with its presence amongst us like a memory that refuses to fade-away, I am feeling the angst of wanting to let go of caution and run like that childhood me as if I have not a care in the world.

I am feeling the desire to pretend there is nothing to fear but fear itself.

Fact is, there is a lot in this world to fear – but…

Fear. Worry. They change nothing and, have an innate ability to grow stronger the more I give into their stealthy presence.

Running barefoot in the grass, lying on my back in the prairie grasses at the top of a hill, arms and legs spread wide simply to feel the sun and earth bathe me in glorious warmth. Singing my heart out amidst the trees or standing outside the grocery store singing a made-up song into the phone to my granddaughter simply to hear her laugh and not caring who hears. Throwing and smashing eggs on the rocks beneath the bridge as a train goes rumbling overhead and screaming at the top of my lungs…. now those things do change everything.

Because, in those things I am reminded, I am alive.

And isn’t that a beautiful gift.

How to get rid of fear.

After two years of factoring everything we do through a fear-riddled lens of ‘should we or shouldn’t we?’ go there, invite people in, meet in a restaurant (when they were open) travel, go to a movie (still haven’t done that one since lockdowns began in March 2020) restrictions are lifting again, and soon, going where ever we want, with whomever we want, however we want (as in unmasked) will be possible.

Restrictions lift. How do we get rid of the fear?

My beloved has a much higher risk tolerance than me. To my fears, should we or shouldn’t we, his reply is a confident, “It’ll be okay.”

Will it?

To which he replies, “It will be what it will be.”

Harrumph. How do I get rid of my fear?

It’s a mind game, aided and abetted by cellular memories peppered with anxiety-laden neurons swamping my body with waves of worst-case scenarios and negative fortune-telling.

Fear in-the-moment can be a great motivator.

Sustained fear is a great inhibitor.

I’ve come up with a plan on how to alleviate and hopefully eliminate (thought I’m not holding my breath on that one), the FOGO that has permeated my being during these past two years of sequestered solitude. (In case you’re wondering, FOGO – fear of going out, has taken up residence at the opposite end of the spectrum from my pre-Covid compatriot, fear of missing out.)

It’s a work in progress, but here’s what I’ve got in my plan thus far.

  • Breathe — just breathe.
    • Like Covid, this too shall pass. Fear will abate and though tentacles may still cling to tiny neurons, You can’t think your way into fear (just as you can’t think your way out of diarrhea) and you can’t think your way out of it. Breathe in. Breathe out, In. Out.
  • Repeat often — this too shall pass.
    • Yup. It will. Fear will pass. Anxiety will fade. Hope always rises and Love always wins. If you must hold onto something, hold onto that — Love always wins. Now repeat. This too shall pass. Love always wins.
  • Feel it. Face it. Free it.
    • Fear is the body’s way of keeping you safe — at least when it first arrives. Hanging onto it for too long gives it roots, and anything rooted in fear will grow more fear. To free it, you must dig into its origins, unearth their weighty matters and sift through their heavy cloud of uncertainty and anxiety to face the truth, “This is fear talking. Fear is no longer my friend. It is the chains that bind me, the mantle that holds me down, the darkness that traps me.”
    • To free yourself of its darkness, you must break through the cracks in its armour to let the light in. And to do that, you gotta breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
  • Do the things that bring you joy.
    • Joy is fear’s great adversary. Doing joyful things tells fear it’s not the boss.
  • Let go of searching for a ‘perfect solution’.
    • The art of seeking perfection is the antithesis of experiencing joy, courage, trust, happiness, freedom. When fear-riddled thinking of ‘what if’ is driving you into deadend alleys looking for the perfect way out, open all the doors and windows in your home and imagine fresh air blowing through and blowing away all that fear.
    • Repeat often.
  • Keep it Simple.
    • There’s no need to create a 100 point plan to overcome fear supported by GANT charts and lists of actionable items. Keep it Simple. Commit to doing one thing every day that brings you joy. Like, dancing or walking with your dog, or reading a story book to your child, or going for a swim… And every day, shorten the timeline — go from once a day to twice a day. Twice a day to three times a day… and so on.
    • Repetition of joy-making activities will, in time, root out fears’ tendrils and cover them up with laughter, fun, frolic, and maybe even a cartwheel or two.
    • And… to stretch those fear-conquering muscles… include a friend or two in each activity and keep widening your circle…

Which brings me to the (currently) last item on my list…

  • Be Patient. Be kind. Be loving.
    • This fear wasn’t created in a day. It slowly, stealthily, sinuously wound its way into our lives over two years of COVID’s rampage. Be patient. Be kind. Be loving. With yourself and everyone in your life. You may not all agree on what’s the best next step — but you can agree on one thing (I hope) — people matter. Family, friends, connections matter.

How do you move through your fear? I’d love to hear.

But later, okay? Right now I’m off to take Beaumont the Sheepadoodle for a walk. That brings me great joy.

____________________________

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

When will it end?

Sometimes, on mornings like this when darkness still wraps the world outside my window in its embrace and ice glistens on the river’s surface, and the world continues to hold its breath beneath Covid’s thrall, I wonder… when will it end?

When will booking a flight to somewhere far away in the world, or just to Vancouver to visit my grandchildren, not come burdened with vaccination passports and endless thoughts of should I or shouldn’t I as I weigh the risks and calculate the cost of travelling on my life and the lives of my beloveds?

When will the simple act of going to the grocery store not include wearing a mask, sanitizing my hands at every turn and worrisome thoughts of… What if I get it?

When will it be okay to hug again, or hold hands or sit side-by-side on a park bench or in a restaurant without measuring the distance between us to ensure we’re safe?

When?

And then, I think about the boys and men who went off to war decades ago unsure of when or if they’d make it home and the mothers and children and grandparents and those who had to stay behind. Did they wonder every day, “When will it end?” Did they have doubts and fears that would not lay quiet in the night? Did they worry would they be safe going out the door if they were not close to a bomb shelter? What about their children at school and so far from their loving arms when air raid sirens blasted? Did they worry every day about their loved ones somewhere far away fighting a war so they could be free? Did they wonder when Year 3 started, “Will this be the last year of this war gripping the world in its terror? When will it end?”

And then, I think about the wars that are still being fought today and the millions and millions of refugees uprooted by guns and natural disasters who sit in crowded tents and live in crowded quarters where Covid is not the only risk they face every moment of every day. And how they must worry every single moment about food to eat, a safe place to sleep and wonder, “When will it ever end?” as they go about their days yearning for peace and safety, worrying and wondering about when they will ever have a home to call their own again. Worrying and wondering which country in this world will accept them so that they can build better lives for their children. When will it end?

And then, I think about this freedom I have where I can choose to wear what I want, speak how I want, disagree with government and not be jailed, or killed for my impertinence. This freedom I possess to be myself, to worship or pray or send blessings into the sky or sit at a pew of my choice, to walk the streets without needing a man to accompany me or having to walk a step behind, to drive a car even though I’m a woman, to enter establishments of education, justice, government or places of worship without being barred because of my gender, this freedom… not even Covid can deny me that.

Billions of people around the world do not share in the freedoms I possess.

If killing Covid means I must get a jab or two, and wear a mask and take into account how close I stand to a stranger, then I will do it. It’s good for me and good for you and good for those billions of people around the world who do not share in the freedoms I possess. At least if I take care of my world here now, we all might have a chance to live without Covid in our midst tomorrow and one day, one year, one millennium in the future, we might all walk in freedom, peace and love.

Namaste

So much has changed…

Mixed-media collage – 11 x 14 on canvas paper

I love it when I open my laptop on a Monday morning and discover somewhere between getting ready for a dinner party and my early morning scribblings, my keyboard shows remnants of last nights culinary endeavours.

In this case, a couple of drops of herb-infused olive oil and a basil leaf from the Phyllo Tomato pie I made as a first course lay in a solidified puddle at the edge of my mouse pad.

I keep my laptop on the counter when I’m cooking. Long ago, with the advent of online recipes, I mostly stopped using hardcopy. I still love to browse through a lusciously designed cookbook full of artfully lit photographs and mouth-watering recipes. But online is so much more convenient.

I do think though that I may want to keep my laptop a little further away from the action. Though their four-legged brethren might enjoy a basil leaf soaked in garlic, rosemary and thyme-infused olive oil, I don’t think it’s good for mouse-pad’s digestive track.

****

Covid has changed so much.

B.C. (before covid), holding a dinner party was an almost every-weekend event in our home. We both love to entertain and I love to set a beautiful table.

With Covid’s arrival it’s become a much rare and momentous occasion, along with a lot of deliberations about the pros and cons and who’s.

After C.C.’s bout in hospital, a slow recovery and the fact connection is good for his soul, as well as health, we decided to hold a small gathering with two other special couples.

While the enjoyment of setting the table, planning the menu and cooking the meal remains the same, we no longer view a potential guest list through the lens of how many couples should we invite? 4? 6? And we don’t deliberate as much about ‘will this be a good mix of people?’. Now, our deliberations focus on other considerations like, “How big is their bubble?” “Are they vaccinated?”

Even the menu takes Covid into consideration. Shared plates have gone the way of a virus-free world and I’ve had to increase my supply of appetizer plates, small forks and knives (not all that big a hardship. I LUV pretty dishes!) so that everyone gets their own fork and cutting knife for the charcuterie.

Even the welcoming at the door has changed. When guests arrive they most still come baring a bottle of wine or a gift for the house. They also step through the door with the declaration, “We took the test! Negative!”

And hugs? Even with a negative test I’m hesitant.

Perhaps that is the greatest change of all… the constant, worry-riddled inner mind chatter of… “Is it safe?”

And yes, we could forgo all form of entertaining, but somehow, that feels like Covid has won.

Life comes with risks. It’s all in how we measure both the risk and our tolerance along with our need for social connection.

And being with good friends. Laughing and telling stories on one another, sharing a meal around a candlelit table — ah yes. These are the happenings that make life so rich and memories so deep.

We were six for dinner last night. Old friends. Family.

We laughed and giggled. We teased one another as only those who share long histories together do. Some of the stories told were probably repeats from dinner’s past.

And it didn’t matter.

We were gathered around a table savouring the connections we crave so much.

Take that you miserable virus! You may have forced us to change a lot of things in our lives, but the one thing you will never change is the joy we feel when we are all connected.

Namaste.

_____________________

About the artwork

I also spent time in the studio this weekend working on another piece for my #SheDaresBoldly series.

Waaaay too much fun!

And the quote…. may we all never compromise our truth!

All That Remains…

Yesterday on FB, a friend shared a poem I wrote at the end of 2020.

I am always grateful when people share my words. I feel a big burst of joy and gratitude erupt within me. It fills my writer’s heart.

I am also glad when the sharing reminds me of what’s most important, of what matters, and what is possible.

The poem she shared was written in one of Ali Grimshaw’s writing circles, a space I regularly and gratefully share with five other women.

I am sharing it again today because while at the time, I hoped Covid would be gone last year, it still lingers. Over the past few days my eldest daughter, her husband and my grandchildren all came down with it. Several friends have succumbed to its thrall as has one of my husband’s business partners.

We continue to hold our circle tight. Limiting contact. Limiting exposure.

And still, the sun shines. The birds sing. The riveer flows, albeit through a narrow channel surrounded by ice. The trees stand sentinel, naked branches spread out as if reaching to touch the sky.

And life continues to flow full of adventures and opportunities, possibilities and new imaginings.

And through it all, this nasty little virus continues to cause illness and death, sorrow and grief.

And through it all, life continues to flow, full of births and deaths, offerings and takings, beginnings and endings.

And through it all, Love continues to call us home to where we belong.

to read the original post from December 31, 2020, click HERE.

Thank you Shannon for the reminder and the gift of your sharing.

Gathering

Gathering
by Louise Gallagher

Gathering, the circle draws us near
candlelight flickering
on precious faces held so dear
sharing stories of our days
laughing and teasing one another
as only those whose stories have been woven
through the warp and weft of this family tapestry can
because we know
there is no distance too far
that cannot be bridged by two hearts
beating together and weaving stories 
full of memory and love of life
shared within the circle. 

As we thread our stories
together, laughter, memories and love rises
and we raise a glass in silent honouring
of all the hearts who lost their beat
in those days, not yet past but slowly now,
slipping away,
when we could not gather with family and friends 
because only the distance between us
could keep us safe.

We are gathering now
drawing near
stretching our arms around one another,
curving into bodies touching, heart to heart
and savouring these times 
where we can feel them beat 
in time
as we gather and share
laughter, love and memories of times past
and loved ones lost and feeling grateful
for those who made it
through to be here now,
gathering, the circle drawing us near,
holding us safe
from where so many have gone
leaving behind only memories 
to light the empty spaces left behind.

Grace. Gratitude. Joy.

In September, I took a 20 hour a week contract with a not-for-profit. I was excited. Nervous. Inspired. To be able to give back, to share in the NFPs vision of inclusive workplaces employing a diverse workforce felt right. Good. Challenging.

After two years of ‘retirement’ that felt a little derailed under Covid’s presence, I was feeling somewhat adrift. It wasn’t that I didn’t recognize that every time I wrote here or created in my studio, I was living on purpose. It was more that after almost 2 decades of feeling on-purpose everyday knowing that the work I was doing changed lives, I felt a bit disconnected from my purpose to “touch hearts, open minds and set spirits free.”

Supporting a not-for-profit in advocacy and government relations seemed like purposeful work.

And it is.

Though, I must admit, I hadn’t accounted for the challenges of onboarding and getting to know an organization through socially distanced practices.

My hat’s off to any employee who has waded into a new organization during these times, and the employers who have successfully onboarded new staff. It ain’t easy!

But, like anything, if you let go of expectations and stay open to possibilities, it’s achievable.

Which means, I’m learning and growing and adapting and shifting my expectations to embrace this new reality.

I am also adjusting my daily routines and slipping back into my old habit of rising early.

I have always been an early riser. Even as a teenager. Early mornings are my sweet spot. Over the last two years however, my normal 5:30 rise and shine has drifted into a 7:30 yawn and stretch as I slip into an easy awakening.

It’s been an adjustment.

In encountering this new reality, I am remembering my love of early rising and its many benefits. Something I seemed to have forgotten as I slid through each day without having to reference my daily agenda. It was easy over the past two years to keep track of my calendar. There were few appointments or meetings to remember.

Now, my calendar is getting peppered with Zoom meetings and tasks to be completed.

It’s kind of nice.

I like the busy. I like the structure.

And that’s what I’m discovering to be most true for me.

I feel more grounded and centered within a structure.

Free-spirited I may be but what allows me the most breadth to spread my wings with ease, is knowing the purpose and direction of my flight.

I don’t need to know the destination.

I just like feeling that my wings are wide-spread with purpose.

I’ve gone back to work, albeit not 5 days a work-week, it is enough to remind me though, of the joy that comes with giving back, with living on purpose and feeling challenged.

I’m adapting. Making adjustments and embracing this change.

There are some things however, that cannot, will not, must not change for me — and one of those is ensuring I protect and preserve my sacred space for creative expression.

I’ve been letting it go in the past couple of weeks. Telling myself my head is so full of learning new things, I’m too tired to take my body down to the studio.

Ahhh…. that critter mind loves to slip in when new horizons open up. He gets scared by wide open spaces and wants to pull me back to safety. Except… his idea of safety leaves me vulnerable to confusion and doubt.

And I smile. Head and body are one. Not two separate entities with the one ruled by the other. For my mind to be calm and peaceful, I must respect the wholeness of all I am and breathe into my entire being, connecting deeply to the flow of all life in and around me.

In that grace-filled space of unity, mind chatter drifts away as effortlessly as clouds on a blue-sky summer day as I fall with grace into gratitude and joy.

And look! It’s not yet 8 am and I’ve just finished my blog – something I’ve been less present with over the past few months.

Because here’s the thing. Writing here every morning sets my day up with grace, gratitude and joy.

And who doesn’t like a day that begins with feeling full of grace, gratitude and joy?

Namaste

To live and let live.

Learning to Fly art journal 2 page spread – mixed media

It is back. This need to check the data every day. To scan news headlines for what’s happening now in a world that seems hellbent on conflict and destruction.

It was gone for awhile, this need. I wanted it to stay away. Yet here it is again. Unbidden. Uninvited. Unwanted.

So I shift my approach to dealing with its presence. Instead of searching for data and world events, I read articles on post-pandemic life. I seek advice on how to step out into the world, without being riddled with anxiety and guilt, once critical mass on vaccinations is reached and restrictions can be safely lifted.

And then, I dip into one of my social media feeds and feel discouragement rising like the third-wave surge of sickness and death. How will we ever arrive at a post-pandemic world when there are those who believe wearing a mask is a sign of weakness? That following restrictions is sheep-like behaviour destined to transform one into a lemming falling over a cliff?

I turn off my social media feeds. I step back from the edge of the abyss where I feel myself getting pulled into the undertow of a debate that feeds my anxiety and drives me deeper into the data as if somehow, somewhere, some number will help make sense of it all and send this virus packing and stop this ‘us versus them’ debate.

One of my aunts, who lives in southern India, has only been out of her apartment once in over a year. She is tired. Anxious. Frustrated. Worried. When she phones, I can feel her loneliness ringing in my ears with every word she rattles off in her rapid-fire French about how limited her life has become through these months and months of Covid. “But what can I do?” she asks without waiting for an answer from me. “To stay alive I must stay at home but I am so lonely.”

Her two remaining siblings live in France as do the majority of her nieces and nephews. She cannot travel to visit any of us nor can we travel to visit her. “I have a dream to come and visit you one more time in Canada before I go,” she tells me. I tell her I want her dream to come true.

And so, together, we wait for the world to right itself. For vaccination counts to surpass the 75% mark. For sickness and death counts to plummet.

Three weeks ago my youngest daughter and her partner became statistics in the Covid case count. They are two of the over 146.8 million of the reported cases as of yesterday’s count. Fortunately, while they said they’d never felt so sick, they did not succumb to the virus as my cousin Linda did in Paris last spring. They have recovered and stayed on the life side of the ledger. Linda is one of the over 3.1 million who did not.

And here’s the thing. They are not ‘cases’ or a number on an ever-increasing count. They are my loved ones. Just as the other 146.6 million reported cases were someone else’s loved ones.

Which is why I will do whatever it takes to keep my loved ones safe. I will get vaccinated. I will wear a mask. Keep my distance. Stay sequestered with my beloved whose lungs, should he become infected, might not be able to withstand the viruses onslaught. We have only received the first vaccination and while the risk and severity are lowered, they still exist. .

And sure, there are those who would call me a sheep. Who would rally against my precautions in the name of their rights.

I get it.

Masks can be annoying. Keeping away from human contact challenging and depressing. There are still many unknowns. Still too much uncertainty and question marks and confusion over so many unknowns. And the unknown and uncertainty breeds anxiety. It feeds fear.

But certain things remain known. Masks work. Keeping safe physical distance works. Being vaccinated is a better safeguard than not being vaccinated.

The virus will not go away on its own. But if it can’t find enough hosts to keep replicating itself, it will eventually lose its grip and fade out. (I know that’s not a scientific explanation but it makes sense to me.)

Just as doing the right thing, whether I like it or not, makes sense to me too. It’s for the sake of myself, my loved ones and for all of us.

And in my world, doing the right thing is never the wrong thing to do.

Which means, I must do the right thing for myself today. I must lovingly wean myself away from diving deep into statistics, into watching news feeds for world catastrophes and natural and manmade disasters, from scrolling social media feeds urging me to cherish my rights over the right to life of all humanity.

I cherish my right to life. I cherish the right to life of all human beings on this planet.

And so, I breathe and say a prayer for all humanity.

May we find a way to survive this latest surge without tearing our humanity apart.

May we find a way to honour one another, to show tolerance and grace in the face of adversity and differing views.

May we all remember we do not have a guidebook on how to behave during a pandemic. That we are all struggling with the knowns and unknowns. We all feel the fear and anxiety. We all feel the constraints.

And may we all remember, we all want to live in our own way.

May we all live to tell the story of our survival.

Namaste.

_________________________

This post was inspired by an article in the New York Times shared by David Kanigan at Live and Learn. Thanks David!

Learning to Fly – Attitudes and Actions

Yesterday, I promised to share my 20 Attitudes and Actions to help you make your dreams come true.

What I’m discovering as I keep working in my Learning to Fly art journal is that the Attitudes and Actions are fluid things — there’s no given order to doing them, though some are best to do early in the game — like No.s 19 & 20.

I’ve already planted my seed — parsley. It’s in a pot in which I’ve been nursing a bunch of Basil throughout the winter. I love the symbolism of nursing a difficult to grow (in this clime) indoors plant, like Basil, which I’ve kept alive now since last summer with the new growth intermingled.

Doing my “Acceptance Speech” is something I learned from my eldest daughter when she was a little girl and continually practiced her Academy Award’s speech. Gratitude was at the top of her list when accepting her award.

An attitude of gratitude is vital. Along with courage it underpins everything. Employ it often. Feed it love and appreciation. Live it daily.

_______________________

I worked on the next spread in my journal yesterday — after my vaccination! I was soooo excited about getting my vaccination I got there two hours early (I had written the time down wrong when I’d phoned to make our appointments.) Fortunately, they didn’t insist I go home and come back — and C.C. could use my appointment which was earlier than his! So much gratitude! For the pharmacists and everyone at the pharmacy organizing and administering the vaccines. The researchers and scientists developing the vaccines. The manufacturers and government ensuring we have access to such life-giving/life-saving elements. The people all around me who are following the guidelines and taking good care of themselves and all of us with every action they take to curb the spread.

My worktable

When I got home, I went into the study to tidy it up — it can get real messy when I’m immersed in a project – and instead of tidying up, I fell into the muse’s embrace and created.

“Even birds must step out on a limb to test their wings. Go out on a limb and test your dreams.”

Learning to fly

Learning to Fly

I love heights. I know. I know. There are many who don’t. But I do.

I love to stand high above looking out and over the world. Buildings. Mountains. Even on the bridge looking into the river below. The higher. The better.

And here’s the deal. My challenge is, when I am standing on high, I truly believe I can fly. That I can just open my arms wide, release myself to gravity’s thrall and leap.

It’s not that I believe I have wings waiting to unfurl, it’s more a feeling that somehow, through alchemy and magic, my body will be transformed into a beautiful, light as air, ‘thing’ of majestic, airborne wonder.

I didn’t say it made sense. I only said I believe it’s true.

I have not tested my premise. Ever.

Though I have been tempted.

When I used to climb mountains it was always my challenge – to stay grounded at the edge of the peak and not let go and leap. Though there was one time on a descent that began with a 2ft wide ridge walk with a 3,000 ft drop straight down on one side and about a 1,000-foot drop on the other. That day, about halfway to the point where we would be rappelling down the mountainside, I wished there was a helicopter that would come and pick me up so I wouldn’t have to leap a one-foot gap in the rock and land four feet below.

Fear made me forget I could fly or even jump as if it was a gap in the sidewalk. I had to let go of my fear

Which is the impetus for the art journal I’m creating, Learning to Fly.

In life, flying is not about heights or wings. It’s about overcoming fears that keep us tethered to our comfort zones, to dreamless-sleep-walking through our days and spiritless wanderings through time, feeding ourselves on inertia.

I have some big dreams. Had them for awhile. And still, I hesitate. I act on them. One tentative step at a time. And then, I hesitate. Holding back. Jerking forward.

No one is holding me back. Except me.

So…. I decided to focus on the things I can do, need to do, must do to unfurl my dreams.

The “Learning to Fly” art journal is my Declaration of Independence. My Magna Carta. My Holy Grail of Getting Sh*t Done.

So…. here we go….

_______________________

About the Journal:

Using various papers from watercolour to mixed media to newsprint and scraps from junk mail, I gessoed and painted backgrounds to create a 40-page journal with cover. I then bound it all together into a book. (Below is a 19 second flip through of the painted and bound journal before I painted the cover and the first 4 spreads)

As well, I’ve created a list of 20 ‘actions and attitudes’ on the theme of “Learning to Fly”. For each one, I’m writing a one-line quote and using that action or attitude as the inspiration for the spread.

Over the past few days, I painted the cover (birds in a tree in gold), the title page and worked on the first 4 spreads:

  1. Take the longview. Even a bird needs time to grow into its wings.
  2. It’s a long and winding road. Every step makes a difference. Keep going.
  3. Wherever you grow, let your heart grow wild and free.
  4. Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

Colour me excited, but I feel the energy flowing, I feel my heart pounding as I work on this journal.

And, as I step through each of the 20 Action and Attitude steps I’ve created, I feel myself expanding my wings.

I won’t be jumping off mountain tops but I will be diving into making dreams come true and soaring on the wings of creative expression!

I hope you join me on the journey — I’ll be sharing my 20 Actions and Attitudes tomororw.

Today… I’ve got a dream come true to fulfill. C.C. and I are getting our first vaccinations. I’m trying not to make it a ‘big deal’.

But… it is! 🙂