Haiku

Tonight at session three of my art therapy group we began by drawing with both hands simultaneously. I'd never tried it before and it was harder than I thought. I easily started doing a sort of scribble drawing with my eyes closed but when I opened them again I had a harder time. I wanted to use one hand or the other, rather than both. I also felt timid venturing over to the left side of the page with the yellow in my right hand or onto the right side with the green in my left. It was an interesting exercise that I'd like to explore again.

Our therapist then had us draw a circle on the page before closing our eyes and focusing on our breath. When we became centered she asked us "where is your self located?" and "what do you know about your centre?" Not thinking too much we were supposed to feel the questions and focus on any images that arose. We then opened our eyes and created what we had seen. The right half of my circle outline was made of a bent female figure in red. Her head was at the top looking inward towards the centre and her body followed the circle around to the bottom where her feet bent under her knees, escaping the boundaries of the circle. Her hand came forward into the center of the circle ending with her hand directed upwards. In the centre of the cirlce there was a white/yellow radiating glow, surrounded by blackness with dabs of earthy green. After we finished we described out loud what we drew, in the first person, as if our artwork was speaking... I am hunched, protective, nurturing, hidden, glowing, warm, grounded.....my self is in my belly....another member of the group commented that it was courageous to go outside of the circle which I hadn't even realised myself. I really felt as if I was hiding or protecting my self which I suppose makes sense as there were hurtful words spoken and hearts made sore this week and I am still perhaps smarting from issues at work over the last month.

After the warm-up we were to write a haiku poem about ourselves and then do a piece of artwork about it. Haiku she explained is a 5 syllable line, a 7 syllable line and then a 5 syllable line again. She said it was ok if we didn't stick to the haiku format if something was flowing. Mine ended up being 5-5-7-6-5 and read something like the following.

Toes sink in the sand

at the ocean's edge

I pause, waiting for Summer

Still, I watch the waves dance

Soon I will dance too

I sketched feet (with graphite pencil) on yellow sand next to the blue playful water (using watercolour). The figure lifts her pink/purple skirt to expose the legs, the fingers simple pencil outlines grabbing tight to the flowing folds of the colourful fabric. The calves and feet are the focus of the drawing. I suppose this may have come partially from my head (rather than the heart) since as I mentioned last week, a similar image arose in my head in response to the poems that were read last week. But this week I really feel like a deep knowing has occurred and now I am pausing, waiting, watching for the right time to act and this image seemed appopriate. Steady, grounded and strong, yet playful, knowing, watching, pausing at the edge of change.

I just realised that I could edit the above to fit in Haiku format...

Toes sink in the sand

I pause, waiting for Summer

At the Ocean's edge

I watch the waves Dance

Standing still, I'll dance soon too

When I am ready

I think I will try some more this week. How about you?

Love and Peace XX

Pliés

Part of the process of getting back to the creative life is making time for myself - time to pause, recharge, rest, ponder, nurture my inner self and fill the well of inspiration. It's impossible to be creative if there is nothing left to give or if I am not centered in my own self but rather running around frantic in task-mode, reactive-mode. Not long ago I rented a video titled "Motherhood" in which Uma Thurman plays a scattered, frantic, yet loving mother of two (plus a dog) in NYC. She had been a writer before the kids came along but lost her way somewhere between folding the underwear and dashing between school, errands, parties, activities, etc. The film wasn't anything life changing and definitely did not portray toddlerhood accurately but I found it validating. In the film Uma's husband manages to score a large sum of money and presents it to her as a gift of serenity so she can find the time, and peace to return to her creative self. Most of us aren't fortunate enough to be granted such a windfall (or have such amazingly selfless husbands) so we must find the time in drips and drabs when we can. I know I am not alone in this struggle. I also recently picked up a book called "The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood" by Rachel Power from the library and just the introduction brought tears to my eyes as the same message resonated deeply (I'll blog about this book more later). Finding the time is challenging as a working mother but I am learning. I've decided to work my way through the book "Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy" alongside my work on creativity as it seems to focus onethis self-renewal.

This week I wasn't feeling well, and neither my job nor my partnership seemed to be working. I stepped on the scale and was back at square one, the small bit of weight I'd lost and gained over and over again had come back making me still 20 kilos above my pre-pregnancy weight. It was obvious that I have ventured far away from my centered, pure self, and am not in my own power. This has to be a turning point I decided. Either sit here feeling sorry for myself or do something about it! So this week I made my way back to my meditation cushion that had been gathering dust, had a check-up at the doctors office, starting taking vitamins and supplements again, made an appointment to see a therapist and decided to listen to my inner-guides that are telling me that I need a break, some nurturing, and some care to find my way back "home". There is no use in focusing on diet trends or other quick fixes, without addressing the root of the problem. It's time to find myself again.

I went looking for a book of affirmations or something on positive thinking and remembered a book my uncle gave me for Christmas many years ago. It was "The Simple Abundance Journal of Gratitude" and guided the reader through a series of journaling exercises geared towards finding happiness through being grateful. Neither my local new-agey type bookstore or the Theosophical Society had a copy but they did have the Daybook I mentioned above by the same author, Sarah Ban Breathnath, and a used copy at that! When I opened the book and began to read the entries for this week I was amazed! The first spoke about the high price of not having private time. The second again spoke of the necessity for solitude and finding it. The third about discovering what to do in your alone time and the fourth on returning to childhood to find what really pleases us that we have left behind.

Today's entry is called the plie of pleasure and challenges us to ask ourselves where we are blocked. It explains that a hobby is a wonderful way to free ourselves creatively as hobbies allow us the freedom to experiment, to be amateurs, and to take chances without worrying about making mistakes. We can try on new lives, warm up our talents and discover our natural inclinations. It asks us to choose a hobby to pursue and commit to trying it out this week. Like ballet dancers warming up with plies, we can warm up our creativity with a hobbies. So let us begin! Plies away! Happy Creating!

Love and Peace XX

A Plethora of Avocados

The thing about being creative is that sometimes new inventions hit the mark and other times they miss by a mile. This is particularly obvious when it comes to cooking. I rarely use recipes and even when I do I tend to use them as guides or for inspiration rather than following them step by step. I adore leafing through cookbooks don't get me wrong, it's just that I tend to make my own concoctions from the ideas I come across, maybe because I am too lazy to be all that detail oriented or because I don't seem to ever have all the ingredients.

Last week I bought a cheap bag of avocados and then forgot about them until they were all on the verge of being past edible. What to do with a whole bag of avocados? BLT w/avo is a standard choice in our house, but there are just so many sandwiches you can eat. Guacomole is another hit with my boys, as of course is eating avocados sliced with a squeeze of lemon. But when I was making cannelloni stuffed with ricotta, parmesan, garlic and spinach, I found myself a bit short of filling. With 6 empty canneloni shells I thought I'd try to fill them with something rather than waste them. I searched the cabinets and fridge for something I could easily prepare with which I could stuff them but found nothing. My usual pumpkin, tofu and feta would take too long, and I didn't have any white beans or chicken or eggplant or any other veggies I could roast, so I tried avocados. Yes, avocados. Guacamole Cannelloni I called the experiment. It sounded possible, but no. Gong! A big miss! Yuck. Perhaps if I had used blackbeans w/pumpkin or sweet potato with the avos it would have been nice but then again if I were going to mix those ingredients together I'd be better off stuffing them into a tortilla than a cannelloni shell. Maybe if I used sauce other than your standard Napoli/pasta sauce it would have been better? Not sure, but I don't think I will continue the experimentation on that one. Once was enough.

Tonight I tried something totally different. I poached white fish with just a little salt, then placed it on a mound of rice and covered it with a homemade pico de gallo (made from chopped fresh cilantro/coriander, red onions, lemon juice, and diced cherry tomatoes), then added a side of black beans stirfried with red and green peppers/capsicum, white onions, jalepenos, garlic, cumin, lemon juice, a touch of olive oil and salt, and last but not least spooned on a large dollop of mashed avocados (mixed with a pinch of salt and dash of lemon juice) before sprinkling the lot with a big squeeze of lemon juice. This was light and yummy. Paul thought it was a bit summery for winter but with the warm sunshine this afternoon it seemed appropriate. The best part is that there are leftovers of everything but the rice so tomorrow's lunch will be white fish and pico de gallo with black beans on a bed of lettuce. Yum.

Since I wasn't feeling so well this week cooking was about all the creating I got to, but I have made more time and space for essential "me" time. The mind must be focused and the well of inspiration full in order to be creative so still weeks like this are good. I'll write more about that in my next post. Until then, happy creating!

Love and Peace XX

More Than Ocean Water Broken

In session two of my art therapy group last night we began to examine how poetry and visual art can work together, inform each other, encourage expression, etc. We started by doing a couple of warm-up drawings. The first was an exploration of colour, letting our hands move across the page, bringing together colours chosen from the table in front of us. I started with an oil pastel on it's side and loved the texture of each stroke as it moved across the surface of the table, which was slightly bumpy from splattered paint and overzealous usage of glue. I drew a leaf/seed-like shape in lime green, and from it came a splash of yellow and orange rays of sun (or a mane/mohawk?) then covered the background in magenta and finished with four dollops of teal, like little stones or pools under the arching figure of the green teardrop-yellow ray combo.

The second "warm-up" we closed our eyes and drew a "scribble drawing", letting our hands guide the pastel across the page until we felt it finished. Then we opened our eyes and coloured in shapes to our liking. I found myself quite drawn to a pinky-peach colour, a mustard yellow, teal and turquiose. When I first examined the result, I thought it looked something like a mess of tangled ribbons. I really liked the method of closing our eyes, somehow it felt a bit less conscious, from deeper within and so I was quite drawn to this little abstract piece.

Soon we were onto the main project for the evening. We closed our eyes and the therapist read aloud 3 poems. We listened and waited for feelings or images to emerge in response, then gathered art supplies and created an image that related to one of the poems. I chose the following.

Once by the Pacific
by Robert Frost

The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in.
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better prepare for rage.
There would be more than ocean water broken
Before God's last put out the light was spoken.

This poem was so powerful that we all chose this one as our subject for the evening, but our masterpieces were all quite different. Some used collage, or mixed media. Others tried water colour or pastels. I created a painting using acrylics. When the poem was read I envisioned curling dark clouds of grey and black obscuring a warm mustard yellow sun/moon with splashes of angry red in the sky above a turbulent sea of crashing waves in blues and greys like Van Gogh's starry night (one of my all-time favs) gone mad. It turned out a little like that, although I must admit that I again ran out of time, feeling as if it wasn't finished. Through the creation process, a strong angular cliff emerged in violet-brown and I liked the definity of it as it held firm against the crashing waves. It felt like a message of strength in rocky times.

In order to reflect on our work we dialogued with our pieces, asking specific questions then writing the answeres with our non-dominant hand, which wasn't easy to do but I understand that it is useful in bypassing the conscious/logical/on-automatic brain. I found it amazing what came out on the page! If you try this exercise, ask your artwork, "Who are you?" "How do you feel?" "What made you feel this way?" "What can (your name) do to help?"

Happy creating!

Love and Peace XX

Less is More - experimenting with collage

Yesterday my son and I gathered treasures from the park, leaves, sticks, stones, bark, feathers, seed pods, lost buttons, liter, etc. and experimented with collage. Of course spilled glue spanned the surface of the dinning room table and tangled my son's hair, the tidbits from nature became strewn across the floor, and a number of crayons broken, or chewed and spit out, ended up all over the house but it was a fun exercise. However, I think I have learned from this first experiment that less is more. I loved each and everyone one of these items, the shape or color of the leaf, the texture of the bark, the twist of a branch, the story yet to be told of the red button that had fallen from a child's jacket, but in our eagerness to paste them all to the page they became lost in a jumble. Perhaps I will save these pieces and reuse them later as I get the hang of it.

Love and Peace XX

Start Where You Are

I had my first art therapy women's group today and I have mixed feelings about the experience. Wow they are an interesting and lovely group of women, but I didn't feel like I really got deep into it. Perhaps it will take time since I am so distant from my inner-self, caught up in the tasks of daily life. I felt self-centered, selfish in my need to share, slightly closed to others and others needs, a head jumbled and unclear, a little frazzled.

Some years ago I did a dance therapy workshop and was able to get deep into it quickly (& I even had some prophetic visions while there) but I was much more switched on at that time, spending a lot of time on my own and with supportive spiritual-types. I was meditating, painting, dancing, running, and unattached. That class also began with a candle-lit meditation. Now my head is messy, obscuring my true self and it was harder to connect to my inner guide and to the present moment, especially in a brightly lit studio after rushing to prepare for the babysitter, and making my way across the city through rush hour.

Our first task was to pick an image or figurine that spoke to us about how we feel right now and then write about it, later we decorated our portfolios with images meant to represent ourselves, an introduction of sorts. The first project was easy, I chose this painting by Miro of a woman who looks stunned, disheveled, in the midst of housework, alone, wide-eyed as if she is saying "help!", looking into the distance as if for someone or something, and yet her feet are big and sturdy, grounded, and the cat at her feet is smiling, purring, there is somehow happiness in her home. I was able to write a page full of words describing the heavy feeling that was in my heart when I arrived and how it related to the image. That felt good.

For the second project I wanted to pick images that were lighter, happier, about me and where I have come from. However, I got caught up in looking for images with meaning that spoke to me, and then didn't have enough time to arrange them in a meaningful way. My end result was ugly, messy, rushed. It didn't feel right. I looked around the room and the other women's projects were all beautiful, original, intriguing. Some focused on colors or shapes that were appealing, others created images out of images that told a story. Some were simply words, and some grouped images into where they are and where they want to go. Mine felt boring, uninspired, a mish-mash of things that reminded me of my past, my home town, my family, things I like. I looked at it and wondered how I will ever be able to call myself an artist. "This isn't art", I thought. Of course one of the game rules of art therapy is not to judge ourselves, or compare our work against others since it is about the process, but I couldn't help but think, where am I? This isn't me, my creative, wise, connected side! This is rushed and messy, thrown together. But as I write this post I realise that that is where I am at the moment, rushed, messy, head full, disconnected, thrown together, disheveled like the farmer's wife. So I have found some insight tonight and the project result is perfect. As Pema Chodron says, you have to start where you are! Hopefully as the group continues I will emerge less hurried, less messy, more clear and able to create from that space, but here I am now and actually I feel much lighter than I did earlier this evening so the process has begun. I will keep you posted as we go along.

Love and Peace XX

A Children's Book Author or Two

A couple of other mom friends and I ventured over to the Alliance Francaise for a squiz at the Leigh Hobbs exhibit, Mr Chicken: From Paris to St Kilda. I find his work humourous albeit somewhat dark, and enjoyed the portraits of Mr. Chicken and Old Tom. However, I wasn't too keen on his paintings of St Kilda., except for the one of the famous Luna Park entrance with Old Tom's mouth instead of the original.
I was encouraged not by Leigh Hobb's work but rather by a chance incident on the way. We bumped into another children's book author, Kim Kane, a mother, step-mother, and award winning author of Pip: The Story of Olive. Her new book Family Forest helps kids understand and feel comforable with thier blended families....what a lovely image, a family forest instead of a family tree! Moments like these, meeting other creative mothers helps me to believe that I can do it too!

Love and Peace. XX

The Creative Journey

Creative expression is as essential for my health as sleep, exercise, meditation, and eating well, but as a working mother I find that I rarely have adequate time for any of these endeavours. Since I was a little girl, creative projects have been my lifeline. My childhood wasn't easy so I found solace in drawing and painting, writing stories and poems, school art projects in a variety of media from photography to pottery and from sculpture to batik. I was always singing, dancing, and playing out a dramatic fantasy world created by my sister and me, but as I became a woman, I let practical concerns, relationships, and fear take the place of creative expression. I dropped out of art school with excuses of wanting a broader education but in reality I just couldn't see myself in a career that would require me to be judged so often, or to be creative within strict deadlines. My heart broke in design class when my projects didn't live up to my prof's expectations, expectations he had from my status as one of his star pupils in drawing class. Instead of navigating my way through my emotional mess, I became blocked and wandered away from my creative self, focusing more on exploring the world and trying to save it than on expressing myself. Art became a fluffy thing, sidelined by the weight of the world.

I have ventured back now and then via taking an art or dance class, creatively cooking, doing an odd painting here and there, delighting in a creative gift idea, or creating my own fashions out of garage sale finds, but ironically it wasn't until the birth of my son, when I suddenly had less time than ever to create, that I developed a stronger urge than ever to express myself creatively. Now I have a two year old who demands 110% of my attention lest he destroy the house, hurt himself or me, a partner who is rarely home due to his job, a demanding management position in the caring profession, two family members disabled by mental illness and although I love them all intensely I struggle with not having an ounce of time I can count on for myself, time needed to contemplate, read, write, meditate, paint, to center myself and listen for insight.

I steal moments to write while my son is napping, a luxury that is nearing its end as he gets old enough to make it through the day without one, or I wake before the sun to savour a moment in meditation, creation, or exercise before my little ray of sunshine wakes. But this is done with an ear to the wind, waiting for that moment I will hear the door open and the pitter-patter of feet scurrying to the top of the stairs, disrupting the quiet and engaging my heart. So, the only time I can find to focus whole-heartedly on creative expression is when I take time off work or put my son in yet more childcare, which is difficult to do very often. Nevertheless it is definitely time to find my way back to a creative life however I can and this blog will be my journal along the way. I hope you will join me on the journey. I will be posting tidbits of creative ideas, interesting reads and finds, insights, projects, etc.

Love and Peace xx