Diary of a Self-Portrait

Ok, so I couldn't keep up, but...

2011-05-22T18:20:00.001-05:00

...you can continue to follow my self-portraits here. I haven't given up! :)

Self Portrait :: {15} feeling strangely present in my body while walking up and down the aisles of Target

2011-03-20T11:44:00.001-05:00

standing in the rug section of the home department.
i am neither running ahead of my myself
or trying to drag myself to catch up.
while looking at welcome mats, i realized that
i was actually standing in the center of my being

noticing what it feels like to be here now.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {14} an attempt at off-setting frustration with a long walk in blue muck-boots

2011-03-20T11:41:00.000-05:00

'nuf said.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {13} anything is possible...

2011-03-20T11:39:00.001-05:00

...when you choose your life's direction.

just about to turn out the lights after an especially good day. sweet dreaming....with the knowing that it will all come true.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {12} saying bon voyage to "Big Love"

2011-03-20T11:36:00.000-05:00

"Big Love" has hereby been SOLD! Today I sold one of my most very favorite paintings I've ever done. It has now been delivered to its new home--and such a perfect home, it is! Even so, a proper goodbye was in order. I'm not sad, because I know that there are many more where this one came from...but it felt necessary to soak in as much of its color, love and inspiration as possible.

"Big Love" taught me how important it is to trust my instincts and to make sure that I allow time to occasionally paint just for myself. That is, after all, where the best paintings come from!

36" x 48" :: Oil on Canvas

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {11} words will find my way

2011-03-15T22:00:00.002-05:00

taking the leap

into unknown territory

broken down ballrooms

walking in the rain

hope

sisters

a little bird told me

words will find my way.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {10} wild horse heart

2011-03-15T21:57:00.001-05:00

don't know where it will lead, but following it anyway.

today i agreed to an opportunity for a 5 day photo shoot with horses outside of jackson hole, wyoming. i think i've just given myself over to the other side...and it feels good.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {9} finding my inner calm

2011-03-13T17:55:00.001-05:00

...because I know that everything I do or need or want can be more easily attained from a place of relaxation.

And a quote by Rumi, just because...
"If you could get rid of yourself just once, the secret of secrets would open to you. The face of the unknown, hidden beyond the universe would appear on the mirror of your perception."~ Rumi

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {8} happiness depends on ourselves

2011-03-12T23:59:00.002-06:00

Spent the day in the studio working on a vision board and writing in my journal. 13 pages later and I'm realizing that I've only just barely scratched the surface. I'm entering a new phase in my life and it's nothing less than scarey as hell--but I've had a lot of practice in the bravery department and so I'll tuck Aristotle's words in my back pocket and, know that if my life turns out anything like my vision board, it will be filled to the brim with vibrancy, freedom, adventure and wild blooms.

I'm scared. But happiness depends on myself.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {7} animalistic joy

2011-03-11T19:21:00.002-06:00

my wolfie girl, anu, and i shared a joy-filled moment in the studio together after playing in the snow. my dogs bring unexpected amounts of happiness into my life and today was no exception. welcome to a moment in my love-filled life. love fills all of our lives--the trick is simply in noticing it.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {6} well hello, little visitor

2011-03-10T13:56:00.000-06:00

my little cat, viscosa, came to say hello while i sat answering emails.

sweet girl...so nice to see you. :) what's that you're saying? oh, yes, hmmm...i see. xo

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {5} late night nurture huddle

2011-03-10T00:10:00.002-06:00

nurture huddle: support of the best kind. a group of friends that i've shared a bi-weekly conference call with for the past two years. we are four, and our locations span all of north america. we're a group of creatively inspired women who wanted a safe and supportive space to help hold ourself accountable for our visions and dreams. since beginning, we've evolved into something so much more.

through good times and bad, we've been there for each other--to support, laugh, cry, whine, babble, bitch and celebrate. successes and challenges--huge and small. i made tonight's call from a grocery story parking lot.

the best thing about the nurture huddle? being able to show up as ourselves, wherever we're at--nothing more, nothing less.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {4} happiness hotel

2011-03-08T20:39:00.002-06:00

Starting the day out right.

and other important choices before 10am.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {3} :: self realization in two parts

2011-03-07T20:26:00.001-06:00

Part I:
Attempting to run away from myself (my thoughts, a heavy heart, the pain that accompanies change). Escapism is a wonderful concept--in theory. I breathe deep or not at all and run towards the closest thing to nothing that I can find...

which leads to...

Part II:
The Self Return. Or rather, a return to Self. Let's face it: there is no running away. I am pulled back to myself as if by a chord on the back of an old toy and, in the process, find myself experiencing unexpected, cellular level JOY. It snuck up on me.

In the foreground, camera ticking and dogs barking. A flock of geese above. These are parts you cannot see.

This life--it is a process. Today I decided that it's OK to experience joy, especially in the tiny, unexpected moments. After all, this is what allows happiness to sneak back in.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {2} :: night studio with johnny cash

2011-03-06T22:05:00.002-06:00

Sometimes I feel my soul turn inside out.

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

Self Portrait :: {1} :: start where you are

2011-03-05T22:58:00.001-06:00

"Shine and Follow."

365 Days of Self Portraits :: A Challenge

my Flickr set

ps.

2010-10-20T15:13:00.002-05:00

I'm not in the mental salt flats anymore. Actually, it's a place I left quite some time ago, but I've been too busy catching up with myself and creating to write about it.

I'm enjoying this space within myself. Internal blossoming is taking place.

More words one of these days soon. And until then, you can find me happily painting in a dog-filled, sun-drenched studio.

Namaste,
j.

in the mental salt flats...

2010-08-20T22:31:00.008-05:00

Every once in a while--well, actually, on a pretty regular basis--I think of this place. I consider coming here and sitting for awhile. I think about the notion of setting my thoughts down somewhere. I consider taking the time to delve beneath the surface and make sense of something.

But I don't. I haven't. At least not here.

Instead, I sometimes go to my journal. The one made of paper. And, more times than that, I don't even do that.

Life is strange these days. The hobbit castle has been under construction for nearly a month. Once it's finished, construction will soon move to my studio. I don't know what's worse. The big willow tree in our front yard fell down. It fell on a perfectly breathless morning. It was the heart of our home. A true day off feels like a distant dream. A blur of falling green.

These days, the world feels a bit off kilter. It feels a bit white. And flat. And strange.

I also understand that it's a necessary part of the journey and, if I just allow it to be what it is, I think I'll probably find something really interesting and beautiful on the other side of the current terrain. Heck, I'll probably find that in this current landscape--right here, right now. This, of course, requires a certain amount of presence.

A pause. Or flow. A letting go.

This is just a momentary blip--like the time I drove through the salt flats of Utah for the very first time. It was night. The moon was full. Everything was so surreal and flat and white. There was magic in that discomfort and momentary confusion.

Maybe if I just quit fighting with myself so much...I would find strange magic here, too.

Being Dramatic :: {Project 44}

2010-04-05T10:11:00.004-05:00

Being Dramatic :: {Project 44}

60" x 40" :: Oil on Canvas :: Photo of work in progress

This is a sneak peek of my most favorite painting to date (early stages).
It's big. It's dramatic. It felt amazing to paint.

If you live in the Minneapolis area, I invite you to see the finished piece at the
Dogs of Edina exhibition at the Galleria, May 6th-31st, 2010.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.
~

Grow :: {Project 44}

2010-03-29T09:06:00.005-05:00

Grow :: {Project 44}
Not just a mug, but a daily reminder of the potential in everything.

In living life fully, completely, wholeheartedly...
let's face it, growth is simply inevitable.

"People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can't find them make them."

~George Bernard Shaw

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

Feline Rhapsody :: {Project 44}

2010-03-25T22:57:00.002-05:00

Feline Rhapsody :: {Project 44}
photo shoots with animals that I fall in love with...

...this was just one of the colorful gifts from my day.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

She is Living Her Dream :: {Project 44}

2010-03-24T23:12:00.004-05:00

She is Living Her Dream :: {Project 44}
Studio fuse box reminder

Sometimes, while standing at my workbench in the studio, I look up and see this magnet that I stuck on the dirty ol' fuse box that graces the wall...and I remember.

I am living my dream.

Despite grunge and dog hair...
this is one incredible dream.
:)

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.
~

Friendship :: {Project 44}

2010-03-23T09:21:00.008-05:00

I sat down this morning, with a fresh cup of coffee, opened up my email and this is what I found:

One day years ago a woman found my blog and left me a comment that said something like I have a dog named Anu and I love samosas. Ever since that day those woman's words have resonated so much with me that I thought somewhere along the way we were supposed to cross paths. I miss her writing, but know that her absence in the blog world is due to all the amazing things happening in her life. I have this hope that one day we will meet and become friends. Tonight I was excited to come across her words and images again and I read them and thought about all the things in my life I'm holding back from doing because I'm afraid. And I look at her blog and think here is a living example of a woman taking the dream she had in her mind and making it appear in her daily life. I'm wondering what would happen if I did what she said and got out of my own way.

~from Anu, of Samosas For One

Friendship :: {Project 44}
Studio moment: Anu, my smiling wolfie...looking up at me as I paint.

Well, with that, here's to all the Anu's in the world. Here's to the fearless, smiling wolf in each of us. Here's to being brave on a regular basis. Here's to good friends. Here's to support and encouragement. And, of course, here's to remembering that getting out of our own way is an on-going process.

Because the thing about living our dreams is that it pushes and nudges and challenges us in ways that sometimes we can't even imagine. Growth doesn't stop with the first bloom, rather it's just the beginning! It's exhaustive, really. But once we've tasted the good life of turning dreams into a tangible substance, well...there's really no going back. And that's the real danger.

There's just no turning back.
The gifts of authenticity are irrevocable.

And so thank god for good friends along the way.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

Workaholic :: {Project 44}

2010-03-22T23:26:00.002-05:00

Hi, my name is Jessie. Is it possible that I'm a workaholic?

Don't answer that.

Sunday Studio, Sunshine Version :: {Project 44}

2010-03-21T13:52:00.003-05:00

There's only one thing I want to do today: and that is to paint in beams of sunlight.

Sunny Canvas :: {Project 44}
Stretching canvases. Raw beauty.

Sunny Workbench :: {Project 44}
Filling Etsy orders with Brilliant Red Happiness and Art for Dogs.

Echo in Edina :: Sunshine Version {Project 44}
Oil on Canvas, Completed Painting.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

Introducing :: {Project 44}

2010-03-20T13:27:00.006-05:00

I've come to the realization that there is just not enough of me to go around. I've also decided that, despite my intense schedule over the next month and a half, blogging is not something I want to give up. After all, I am a blogger. I like blogging and I want to continue. This blog has become a record of my life since 2004, but I've nearly disappeared from this space over the past several months. I hate to see that happen and, well, I want back in.

This space grounds me. It is the more intricate, yet simple parts of myself. I blog to stay connected--to both my interior self and to the tribe of like-minded souls that I have found here. I blog because it adds depth and dimension to my days. It helps me to understand, to let go, to process, to remember. I blog because it helps me to more deeply experience my journey.

These days my path has led me to an art-filled life. I am thriving. My art is thriving. My spirit is thriving. And in the midst of all this thriving, I find myself consumed by the tasks of preparing for my biggest solo exhibition to date. It is exciting and overwhelming all in one fell swoop.

In 44 days I will be given the keys to more than 2,000 square feet of gallery space and nearly enough wall space to go from one end of a football field to the other. This is my life in hyper-speed.

And yet...I find myself wanting to record these days, to take the time to slow down just long enough to capture my daily experiences, even if only in the fraction of a second unveiled by the click of my camera lens.

{Project 44} is made up of bits and pieces of me, of my day, of the world that surrounds me. It is made up of the 44 days from now until I begin hanging my next show on May 2nd, 2010. It is my life as an artist, dog lover, writer, coffee drinker, and person. It might be haphazard--a few words or a sentence, an image, a moment, a canvas in process--it will be made up of whatever I have to offer on any particular day. Whether my day be haggard or inspired or a little bit of both. These are simply glimpses of me: intimate and real.

Welcome to {Project 44}

Studio 3/20 :: {Project 44}
Day NUMERO UNO of Project 44 and a peek into my studio.
Finally putting the finishing touches on the second panel of a painting I started nearly a year ago.

Spring Vineyard Unveiled 3/20 :: {Project 44}
Vineyard life: Finally, the many feet of snow has melted and the vineyard, once again, is revealed.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.
~

catching up... POST #1000!!

2010-02-19T08:27:00.005-06:00

Hello, old friends. It is time. Time for a new blog post because the world is whisking by me once again and there is only me to decide when to put my foot down and stop myself for just one holy second and say HELLO! :)

It is a sunny morning outside. The dogs are asleep on the couch and I have a growing to-do list in my head. These days, life is in full bloom. Hell, I even have roots busting out of the bottom of my metaphorical flower pot and we still have 4 feet of snow!

For now, let me just say that I'm here. I'm here and am preparing for my biggest show ever. I'm here and am venturing into one of the biggest and scariest and most exciting moments of my artistic career so far.

I would like to start blogging more again. Perhaps I'll just write short ditties. I've been getting good at that on Facebook. Just something to record this journey--and all its highs and lows. Believe me, there are many of them!

Recently I've been granted a 2,000 square foot gallery space in one of the most upscale locations in the Minneapolis area for the month of May. No charge, with massive marketing as an added perk. I'm also working with a long list of businesses that will be creating events throughout the month around my artwork. If ever I've been given a chance to grow as an artist, a business, and a person...it is now. Holy crap--and I think I'm gonna need a seat belt.

I never in a million years expected my life to look like this. Yesterday I found out that I did not get a major fellowship that I had applied for. I have to admit that I really wanted it. $50,000. It was going to solve a lot of problems and give me some much needed artistic freedom. Despite the MAJOR odds, a wildly self-confident part of me was expecting to get it. But no. Nope. Not this time. Instead I got a rejection letter from them. The rest of the mail included several thank you cards from clients. These cards went way beyond thoughtful. I wanted to lay down in the snow and cry and laugh all at the same time. Ok, I admit, I did...but I waited until I got to the studio and did it there instead. I realized that I can make my life look any way I want it to. In just one day so many things happen.

Lately, every day has been filled to the gills with new opportunities and struggles, all at the same time! I've decided that success is coming...but I think I'm better off not having any expectations on HOW it's going to get here. This wild and surreal life. Sometimes it is an interesting challenge just to get out of my own way.

Peace sista friends.
j.

Upon waking...

2010-01-19T08:46:00.003-06:00

The result of last night's magic-in-the-making.

~

from the studio to the house at night...

2010-01-19T00:10:00.007-06:00

Nearly 1 am and I've just finished a painting. Tight shoulders, heavy eyes, a mug full of "Tranquil Dream" tea sitting to my left. I kinda like working late at night, although my body does not agree. Upon leaving the studio, the first thing I do is look for coyotes standing in the shadows. I've yet to meet one eye to eye, but they are alive and well, living in the woods just beyond our house. I hear them often, but not so much since the deep snows came. Tonight, rather than coyotes, I was surprised a thick mist that filled the air above me, like a plume. It came from out of nowhere and, immidiately clung thickly to the branches and pine needles of the trees. In the two minutes that it takes me to walk from my studio to the house, it happened. Instantaneous.

I do not doubt that this strange night magic is the result of so much snow, another warm day and then a quick drop in temperature. Even so, explanations never seem to detract from the unexpected phenomenon of the night.

Lately, it seems that being outside at night is when my exterior environment feels most unexplored. In the process, my interior environment takes on a much desired newness. I feel a deep need to travel, but without the means or time to do so, I'm beginning to feel a bit cagey. At night though, everything feels different. It feels adventurous, a delicious sense of danger in the winter air and dark shadows. The crystalline edges of things, like the space around the stars, feels sharper. The crunch of snow is more audible, as though one can hear the breaking of each tiny crystal. Being outside in the cold stillness of night draws out another side of things--revealing unexpected beauties, little mysteries--the invisible is made visible. Air turns to ice. In the walk between studio and home, I feel my thoughts sneak out of my skull for just a moment... and it is refreshing.

I'm greeted at the door of the house by sleepy dogs, warmth and a hungry cat. In two minutes, worlds apart.

Barometric mysteries...

2010-01-12T09:13:00.006-06:00

Last night I stood outside under an inky black sky and reveled at the cascade of glitter that hung above me from the branches of our old willow tree. I used to be a florist and remember the bunch of holiday artificials that we had in boxes--dipped in glitter, their long flexible branches were meant to simulate some semblance of a winter wonderland. I stood there feeling amazed that the world we live in really is made of such wonderment. That is, if we choose to see it, if we take time to notice it.

This morning when I woke up, those same branches out my window were covered in nearly an inch of glitter. Some strange barometric mystery took place during the night--something that caused our entire world to be coated in a thick coat of magic. Looking out over the frozen pond and beyond, I am a bit mesmerized by the layers of beauty in the snow globe that I just happen to live in.

Today my dog Louie and I have a photoshoot in downtown Minneapolis for an upcoming feature article. I'm excited and a bit nervous all at once. I have to bring my youngest dog, Ella, with also. Vinny is out out of town on a business trip and I won't have an assistant to help me with the handling of 2 young dogs, downtown parking, a five foot painting and a big easel. It sometimes amazes me how I constantly find myself just outside of my comfort zone. It's an interesting feeling. This sort of discomfort combined with such extreme morning beauty...strange alchemical combinations. Sometimes life feels sort of surreal.

At the moment, my world is unusually quiet. These past couple weeks I have done a lot of untangling in my life. I'm still untangling. Mostly in the form of clutter and financial paperwork. I found an incredible bookkeeper, Jessica Reagan Salzman of Heart Based Bookkeeping, who I am looking forward to venturing into 2010 with--both as an accountant and a money coach. I have been wishing to find someone like her for such a long time now. It goes to show that one should never give up on their wishes. Sometimes the right person, the right place, the right circumstances...it all takes time. In overcoming my fear of numbers and money, I've needed someone like Jessica to work alongside me. Someone who understands. Someone who gets it. Someone skilled at the fine art of weaving love and numbers.

Every day feels like a lesson in bravery. I wake up, unclench my teeth and begin again. Last night I went over to the studio late and drew out the canvases of three dogs: Sadie, Chloe and Scout. I haven't picked up my paint brushes since finishing my last commissioned portrait that was delivered for Christmas. The break has been wonderful and necessary. I've accomplished a lot in these last two weeks. But for the past couple days I've been feeling my heart reaching for color and paint and canvas. If I go for too long without painting I feel a strange ungrounding. The glitter in the trees gets too glittery and I find myself seeking the sunshine and solidness of my studio floors.

Today will be made up of camera lights, paperwork and paint--a fine combination, if you ask me. Solidly rooted under glittering trees. Today expands and grows.

Little Miracles...

2010-01-07T09:08:00.006-06:00

I woke up this morning to snow and wind. A lovely combination, actually--especially when you have a nice big mug of coffee with cream. The wind is made even more enjoyable by the fact that we were about to run out of water again. Wind! I have grown to love it. Our water is gravity fed from a well, which we fill by turning on our incredibly out-dated windmill that stands at the top of the hill on the edge of the vineyard. It's quaint, actually. We just weren't aware of how problematic it would be. Or maybe this year the wind has just been exceptionally still. I don't know and I don't care. Mostly, I just love the way the wind makes those blades spin, causing the pump to respond in a miraculous up and down motion.

And with that little description I just need to take a moment and say: Wow, I've missed writing here. I know...I seem say that every time I finally sit down to blog. The the feeling is truly as satisfying as drawing water into a nearly dry well.

For the past 10 days I have been working diligently on bringing order, understanding and growth into my life. After we moved this summer, I got sick and then, before I knew it, nearly 6 months passed and I still hadn't unpacked my office! That in itself seems sort of crazy. I mean, how did my life get so freakishly busy? My business exploded. It has been incredible and yet...well, I was quickly running myself into the ground and the state of my office was driving me crazy.

After delivering my last commissioned painting for Christmas, I hit the much needed "pause" button in order to give my attention to a few behind-the-scenes necessities. Things like paper work and the state of my office, pricing and other works in progress. The change around me has been extraordinary. For the first time since moving, my office space actually feels calm. My cats love it so much, they won't leave and, often, I find myself surrounded by the soft sleeping breathing of my animal menagerie. It is a supremely comforting feeling. It grounds me. Even my collection of found rocks and old wooden crates (which I've converted into bookshelves) feels comforting. I thought I wouldn't be happy until I had new flooring and new cabinets and new this and perfect that. Turns out I was wrong. The things in this room hold warmth. They hold my history. They hold the pieces of me that bring me back to center. The sheepskin thrown across the seat of a chair, the rich silk textiles that I brought back home with me from India, my books, a wedding photo of Vinny and I, the soft glow of lamplight...yes, this feels like me. And it feels good.

Granted, this has been a huge process and I still have more ahead of me. Going through so many boxes and pile after pile of paperwork sort of made my brain feel like it was being dragged across a bed of nails. Now I've moved on to the thing that has given me more fear than anything else: financial paperwork. Wowzers. And it won't stop there.

All I can say is that it's happening. It's finally happening. I don't know what took me so long to finally work up the courage to take control of these aspects of my life, but I am relieved to finally be doing it--even if I have to nudge myself forward over and over again. I hear myself chanting to myself in the back of my head and am impressed by the level of support I give myself. For the most part my brain is acting like my very own guardian angel. Or maybe I really do have a spirit guide sending little whispers of support and motivation. Forward movement requires a bit of discipline and, yet, if there is one thing that the past two years has taught me it is discipline. Along with discipline, what I'm really learning now are the virtues of self-care.

Two years ago I began the Be Brave Project and started on a journey towards a life that I never in a million years dreamed of. These days I find myself in the midst of beginning this journey all over again. It's time to start taking risks again. Not just the little kind, but the sort that makes me feel a few butterflies; the kind that makes my face go a bit flush. Change requires risk-taking. You would think that it would be easier this time around. After all, I've proven to myself that I can make anything happen when I really want it. Oh, man(!)...but it is still so incredibly scary! Brave souls, we need to band together.

These days I am taking it one step at a time. Lots and lots of little steps. In an odd way, even taking time to blog is one of those little steps. This new beginning, it's a package deal. There is something for me on the other side of this--and I'm simply too curious to stop now.

Dear Self,

2010-01-04T10:10:00.002-06:00

Write a blog post soon. Writing misses you.

with love,
Language

~

Merry Christmas from our hobbit castle to yours!

2009-12-24T21:42:00.001-06:00

The Bicicletta, Italian cocktails anyone?

Charlie Brown, we love you.

A cozy snowy Christmas Eve in our hobbit castle.

with love,
The Marianiello's

~

35 :: {My Year of Relief and Happiness}

2009-12-09T18:57:00.020-06:00

{click on images to see the oh so delicious details}

I've decided to dub this year 35th year of my life as "My Year of Relief and Happiness." And I have a feeling that there is going to be some wonderful change ahead.

I didn't start out feeling this way about turning 35. To be honest, I haven't felt much of anything about it. It's been just another blurry thought on this freight train called my life. I've been thinking about what I want this year to be about for a few days now. I started making a tradition out of this a couple years ago and didn't see any reason to stop now. However, this year, my thoughts on the topic did not start out with much optimism. I've been exhausted and should have known better than to try and define my coming year in such a state of disrepair. The only words I seemed to come up with were things like "burden" or "responsibility" or "getting by." Good god, can you say depressing?! Eeeerch! The brakes needed to be put on those thoughts. Pronto!

I firmly believe in the power of our thoughts and I am simply NOT ok with the idea of attracting a burdensome year. I'm much too good at attracting things to play around with a dangerous word like "burden." And so I did the smart thing and asked myself: What is the opposite word of burden? What came to mind was "Relief." Oh, now I like that word. I like that word a lot. It feels good. I can sink my teeth into that one. It feels like something I can believe in. It feels realistic, possible. I can wrap my head around it. For such a simple little word, it also feels immensely powerful.

My life is fully ready for a little bit of relief. But wait a minute. Relief all by itself sort of sits with a flat feeling in my mouth and limbs. I don't need all the hoopla that I was seeking at 33 and 34, but I would like to include some sunshine, sparkles and a smile that radiates from the inside out. Relief is good, but I think I'd like to top it off with a nice sized dose of happiness when all is said and done.

When I told my husband, Vinny, about this, he was a little worried that I might be asking for too much. He also believes in the power of our thoughts, but usually leaves the magic-making up to me. He also tends to be a bit conservative when it comes to reaching for the stars. Adding happiness onto a request for relief--is this asking for too much? I don't think so. After all, why limit ourselves? We are, after all, our own biggest limiting factor. I've decided to add a little bit of whipped cream to my coffee. Goodness on top of good. Why not?

Relief means quite a few things to me. It means getting my shiite in order. It means finally finishing the unpacking from our move this summer. It means having time to be human. It means limiting my workload to a manageable amount. It is relief from the endless pressure of work and bills and the toxic combination they can sometimes create. I love the work I do, inside and out, but these 12-18 hour days just can't go on forever. Period. Relief looks like a big fat fellowship and a backup plan to live sanely, whether I get the fellowship or not. Relief will include facing my fears head on. Heck, even joyously. It means breaking a few self-destructive patterns. It also means finding out what, exactly, those patterns are. I'm hereby mining them out of the naivety of my subconscious and exposing them to the light of day. It means taking a deep breath and then embarking on the necessary steps to reach my goals. One thing at a time. One action at a time. One day at a time. One thought at a time. It will be made up of knowing when to say yes--and also when to say no. It will be made up of knowing when to push--and also knowing when to relax.

Last year my words of the year were "Wild Bloom." They were inspired by a photo and a story that my coach and dear friend Jamie Ridler shared with me during a coaching session. Holy taledo, and did my year ever go WILD with BLOOM!!! Things bloomed so fast and feriously that it's a miracle I didn't spontaneously burst into flame! Of course, life never looks like we expect it to. Nope. And sometimes not even at all. Anyway, despite difficulties, 34 was a good year of blooming all to pieces. But, I'll admit: I'm exhausted. And I am really, really, really ready for some relief, topped off with just the right amount of happiness.

Today I celebrated my birthday by taking the entire day off. I can't even tell you how good it felt. To be honest, this is the best day that I've had in a really long time. I took a couple naps, read, snacked on delicious food, played in the snow and generally relaxed to the nth degree. Did I mention that we were snowed in? I also created a vision board to help guide me confidently into this 35th year. And, by gosh, I really love the way it looks.

I get the feeling that this is going to be an especially good year. In big ways--but in nice, quiet sort of ways. I can already feel my heart nestle in a little bit more comfortably in my chest and the tension in my shoulders drop down a notch. This year I have a different kind of faith. It's called: faith in myself. I also have faith in the kindness of the Universe. I have faith in love, authentic work, and gentleness. I have faith in passion--and this year I'm not afraid to adjust the flame as needed.

Today I woke up in a snow cave. After a big snow-storm, our world has turned into a surreal landscape of drifting white. It felt like someone hit the "shift" button and I'm grateful because I needed to get snowed in. I needed to relax. I needed to spend some time with my dreams and the hush quiet of this newly white blanketed world.

And so here's to Relief and Happiness. It all its strange forms--both expected and unexpected.
Here's to wishing with our whole spirit.

Hello 35.
:)

~

Random thoughts on a Sunday Morning

2009-12-06T08:46:00.010-06:00

Sitting in front of my computer trying to get my wits about me, I figured I might as well write a blog post rather than starring like at idiot an my email, Facebook, and Twitter pages. Blarg. I'm shaking cobwebs out of my brain with a cup of coffee--or more--and then it's off to the dog painting factory. ha!

Ok, I'm just kidding about the factory comment, but today I will be mounting about 200 prints and painting 10 display frames. Stray Dog Arts has gone wholesale, baby! Not sure if it's a blessing or a curse. Well, it's definitely a blessing, but my lack of an assistant feels like a bit of a curse. Thought I had finally found someone one, but the timing (at least when I need it most) is off. (Dear Universe, please send me the right person).

The pond has hereby frozen over for good, complete with a dusty layer of snow. The sky is bright and blue, the air colder than ever. I've fallen in love with my new blue leg-warmers because they feel cozy and look good with my painting apron.

I'm going to be 35 in three days. I'm not sure what this means except that my metabolism will probably slow down. 33 and 34 were really special years for me. 34 threw enough monkey wrenches at me that I've decided that it will be ok if I somehow just simply enjoy and survive whatever the next year has to offer. I want my wild optimism back, but maybe it would be better for me to chill the hell out and just relish the small bits of life as they're offered to me.

To me, 35 feels like a big shipment from Dick Blick: daunting and full of possibility all at once. Did I mention that large UPS and FedX shipments are a new addition to my life? I've finally become like the girl in Cast Away (you know, the movie with Tom Hanks?). I even wrote a blog post about it here about a year ago and look how it's manifested itself! (please bear with the randomness of my brain) Like that girl, I'm the artist who lives beyond the crossroads and down a really long dirt driveway. I have an old garage/workshop rather than a barn, but the feeling is the same. Yes, I'm romanticizing my situation quite a bit, but this is a necessity in order to survive the otherwise endless pile of work sitting in front of me. Life is good and yet it doesn't feel like anything I was expecting.

Cup of coffee #2 required.

Signing off with peace and love,
j.

December 1

2009-12-01T09:19:00.004-06:00

It feels amazing to me that today is the first day of December. The pond has frozen over in a fragile sheath of ice for the first time this year. It's been a process of freezing, starting at the edges, and has been going on for weeks. But this morning it has finally found its way across the entire surface.

I love the pond outside our house. It reminds me of Thoreau and a favorite quote:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

This is a quote that I have lived my life by. I came across it in high school and have made many decisions in its echo since.

It seems surreal to me that it's already been 4 months since we moved from the middle of a city to the almost-middle-of-nowhere. We moved at the end of July. In mid-August I got really sick with Rocky Mountain spotted fever (most definitely the strangest illness I've every acquired!). I had to drop everything for an entire month--the unpacking, painting, my work. Everything. That was difficult for me to do. I am pretty hard-driven and to be stopped in my tracks is not something I'm very good at. Not to mention, my schedule was already packed to the gills. Those lost weeks were not something I had to spare. From there it was a domino effect in trying to catch up. A big solo exhibition, many events, two major projects, and a handful of commissions later...here we are taking our first step into December. Time is a tricky monkey. It's gone from July to December in one fell swoop. Blink! This must be how it happens, how we grow old. This is how one day we wake up and we're 90, remembering how young we felt when we were 35. All I can say is: dang. I hope I live to be a 1,000.

And so today I drink my coffee out of an especially fragile cup. Some days I prefer the thickness of hand-thrown ceramic. Other days, like today, I prefer the fragility of fine china. I think it says something about how I'm going to approach my day. Sometimes I put on my old jeans, a sweater and boots and dig into my day with a full heart. Other days I like to move more deliberately. I like paying attention to the delicate surface tension that stretches itself across the pond, a fine combination of stretched lace and glass. Who knows, by mid-afternoon I might switch to that heavy ceramic mug, but for now I am content with the subtle features of the morning.

There are so many things to share and catch up with you in the space of this blog. Photos, stories, events, paintings...they wait in files on my computer and in my head and on my camera. But, for now, here is just a little slice of one moment out of one morning. This is my life as an artist. And, this morning, it is a life lived deliberately.

Here's to a December filled with a life worth living.

ps.
Photo taken by my husband, Vinny, this past weekend. Sitting at my computer in the studio with my wolfie girl, Anu, contentedly asleep at my feet (if only she were in the photo, too!).

early morning in november.

2009-11-14T07:59:00.006-06:00

Dear neglected Blog, I've missed you.

It's early, but not early enough. I like the dark moments before morning, the moment when the sky is still in a state of pre-dawn. However, with the light comes several notable details such as the sheep that live across the pond. Since the field next to them was cut, I notice that they stand in new configurations. The horses also have moved to another pasture, off the hill and away from the wind. I like the movements of the world surrounding our new home. If only I could slow down my own internal rhythms in the same way.

And so I take this moment to peacefully drink my coffee and do something for myself. Blogging is for me. It uses a different part of my brain. Yes, writing, I miss you. I miss you, but you are always with me. Waiting.

In the bedroom off my office I hear the deep sigh of my dog Louie as he nestles in deeper along Vinny's side. I love weekend mornings when the rest of the house sleeps in. For me, there is really no such thing as a weekend, but there are moments of peace, like this one, that I drink in deeply. I think to myself that someday I might even add some semblance of balance to my life. A life where I take weekends off, even if only occasionally. Where I have days that I wake up only to flop myself on the couch with my legs flung across cushions and a book in my hand. Maybe someday I will make that happen, but for now I catch the same sorts of enjoyments in quick doses. I stop in front of the living room window and take in the changing colors of the season. This new landscape--it is all a constant discovery. Even I am a constant discovery. Always, always learning how to live with myself a little bit better.

Early morning blessings to you, friends. Here's to another day and the endlessness of changing light.

{Featured!} Must see: November Issue of the Mpls St. Paul Magazine

2009-10-22T08:21:00.005-05:00

Yesterday my husband, Vinny, came home from the grocery store with a surprise for me. He had a big smile on his face and a plastic bag about 3 inches thick in his hands.

"I got you something" he said with an especially cute smile and handed it to me.

The bag sort of melted in my hand--square, but curving at the edges the way a small pile of magazines will do.

Eeeeeeee! Squeal of delight! I knew what it was immidiately: the November issue of the Mpls St. Paul Magazine featuring "Custom Made" artisans and a two page spread of yours truly! :)

I don't mean to geek out or brag, but I just have to say that I am a little bit giddy with excitement. I can't help it. I'm excitable when it comes to being featured in glossy publications. Especially good ones! :)

I immidiately took one of the magazines out of the bag, circled the living room a couple times and then sat down in a chair next to the window. I was about to go straight for the article, but decided to torment myself and savor the moment as long as possible. I opened the magazine to page 1 and looked at every single page until I got to page numero 56...which is when I started ooooing and awwwwing and giggling like a maniac over the beautiful layout and my incredibly gorgeous Chesapeake love, Louie: front and center. What's not to love?! He glows! He's practically levitating in the foreground and there's me in the background...glowing, too! And that's exactly how this work makes me feel. Thank you to the photographer, Stephanie Colgan, for capturing that very deep and wonderful feeling.

The article, written by the fabulous Christy DeSmith is absolutely incredible. I moved from the living room window to the kitchen where I read it out loud to Vinny (and any dogs and cats that might listen). Louie, like a giant piece of Velcro, pressed up against my leg the entire time while Ella, our youngest pup, raced circles on the couch behind us. If a family can morph into one huge smile then, in that moment, that is exactly what happened to us. It is an absolute honor to be featured among such hugely talented artists of the Minneapolis area.

Here's to supporting the arts. Thank you, Mpls St. Paul Magazine!

May all dogs be happy!
~

Snake medicine.

2009-10-19T18:32:00.020-05:00

{I like this image because , as we all know, fear loses
it's power when one looks directly into its eyes.}

There's one thing I've always been afraid of and that's snakes. As a matter of fact, my very first memory as a young girl is of accidentally running over a garter snake with my tricycle. I remember the sun, the perfectly green grass, and the absolute focus of my journey from Point A to Point B. I was, what you might call, "in the zone," lost in my travels, a pedaling adventure between Clara's garden and the house. I remember the absolute fear that coursed through my body as I saw my front tire bump right over the top of that fine, slithering body and the lightening speed with which I climbed to the top of Clara's head (well, at least as far as her shoulders). Clara, bless her soul, a tiny woman whom my siblings and I adopted as an extra grandma, stayed calm the entire time. I even remember the sweetness of her smile as she peeled me off her head and assured me that there was no reason at all to be afraid.

Despite many noble attempts, I have never been able to overcome my fear of snakes. It seems to be a fear I was born with--and is, in my humble opinion, a fear that any intelligent creature SHOULD be born with. Gah. Of course, living in the country comes with its fair share of snakes. That is to be expected. And, luckily, in Minnesota none of the snakes living here are poisonous (but that's beside the point).

Earlier today, I posted a comment on Facebook proclaiming that I was going to FREAK out if I saw one more snake basking in the sun outside my studio door. Now that the weather has gotten cold and then warm again...oh my good god, they are out in hoards, storing up as much sun for the winter as they can. I can't blame them for that. And, actually, if I wasn't afraid of them, I might even think that they look quite stunning. They are graceful and quick. The bigger, older ones seem to possess an intelligence that I even respect.

But when they are laying right across the metal strip of the threshold of my studio door, warming themselves in the crack of the concrete between inside and out, and along the sun-warmed front of my studio, there they lay. Well...this is just about enough to push me over my snake-fearing edge. When they crawled under the door not once, but three times in one day (yesterday)....oh, bloody hell, that is just about more than I can stand! (ps. today none have made it that far--thank god).

And, yet, I get the very clear feeling that they are not attempting to stay in here. They have no interest in making a home in my studio, rather they are just trying to find some temporary warmth before falling asleep for the winter in whatever warm earth den they call home.

A couple of wonderful friends suggested that I look into what the Snake might have to teach me. After all, there is often a reason that things show up in our lives. I couldn't agree more and, after a little bit of reading, learned that "Snake arrives when we are moving toward change, and need to let go of a part of our old self....prepare to shed something in favor of something greater and better." And Tanaya shared with me this link.

My first reaction to the idea of more change was the desire to throw a temper tantrum. You know, one that goes like this: "But I don't wwwwaaaaaannnaaaa change anymooooore!" After all, this past year has felt like nothing BUT change! The notion of change has sort of lost its shiny luster for me and, as I was driving to the store, I began to realize that although I once used to equate change to excitement and adventure, I've now started to equate to pain and emotional/physical/mental discomfort. It's no wonder I'm no longer welcoming it into my life! I find myself whining: Can't things stay the same for just a little bit?!

haha! Yeah, right.

OK, Snake. In the moment of realizing what was holding me back from change (that is, fear of more discomfort), I decided that I'm going to start over. After all, there ARE plenty of things that I am more than ready to change about my life. Some things are actually causing a helluva lot of pain and discomfort in staying the same. Especially my work to income ratio and my relationship with time (among other things, I'm sure). Snake Medicine also teaches about intuition, creativity, transmutation, and the energy of wholeness. Hmmm...not all bad. This is something I can work with.

I still can't say that I like snakes--or even that I plan to anytime soon. But ever since returning home I've decided that every time I step over the threshold of my studio, it is an opportunity to face my fears and grow past them. The snake is just a metaphor. I step through the door and, each time, find myself returning to the words: Be Brave. Two years later and I'm still living those words every single day. Damn those words. They are good.

You see, there is power living inside of this studio. Great amounts of beautiful, heartfelt, loving power. And by power, I mean Inner Power. The kind of stuff that causes me to glow. The sort of power that lets me know, without a doubt, that in this very moment, I am living my life's purpose; I am doing my best and truest work. The way I feel when I'm painting or creating is worth stepping over any number of snakes.

Snake is fire medicine. It has vitality and intelligence. It is protective, healing, acutely intuitive and it's movements lack resistance. These days, I desire to find a way to allow my passion to take better care of me (and visa versa). You know the quote by Albert Einstein: “We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” Well, I'm going to believe that the Snake is showing up in my life (REPEATEDLY!) to jar me out of old patterns. Every time I step into my studio or back into the world outside, I make a conscious decision in the direction of Bravery and new thinking.

Instead of representing fear, what if I give Snake the power to represent Change? And what if I decide to no longer equate Change with negative experiences? How about if, this time around, Change means something GOOD and, in this way, gives Change the power to mean that awesome things are coming my way? What if I allow Snake to become a reminder for me to use a new way of thinking and acting? Think new, create new.

OK, Snake, be my teacher. I am, after all, more than ready for the next leap.

Image credits: http: www.boston.com

Whooot! Watch for me in the November issue of the Mpls St. Paul Magazine!

2009-10-17T22:41:00.000-05:00

Out soon! The November issue of the Mpls St. Paul Magazine is all about custom made. And guess who's included!

ps.
Keep another eye on my shop. Great new products are on their way!

The Joy Diet :: Desire

2009-10-16T18:58:00.008-05:00

The Next Chapter :: The Joy Diet (chapter 3):
Never mind that I'm a week behind.

I just wrote half a blog post when my little cat, Viscosa, came and sat on my computer and managed to turn the power off. It's just as well because all I had written was a bunch of nonsense about how intensely hard I've been working and how exhausted I am beginning to feel. You know, the old story.

But that's not what I really came here to write about. I came here to write about Desire. I wasn't able to post last week because I was in the final days of preparation for a big art show opening. It swallowed me whole and then I got swallowed a little bit further by travel (read more about animal rescue and puppy adventures) and then the aftermath of being too busy to keep up with things for too long.

And this is where I've been spit out. On a Friday morning in the middle of October with dogs waiting to be walked and a heavy layer of mist outside my window. It has led me to my very first day off in over a month (the last time being only because I was too sick to carry on). It's fairly ridiculous what a big deal it is for me to be taking today off. You have no idea what a mental leap it was for me to put my foot down and say NO MORE, for just one day, NO MORE. I am, after all, my own schedule maker. If you think it is all bliss and candy being able to work from home or to be a full time artist or to follow your dream or whatever it is...think again. Living this life takes some pretty heavy-duty amounts of determination. It also requires knowing when to stop--which, apparently, is not one of my talents. I am aware of the insanity of this pattern, but have yet to find a way to break out of it.

And so...for the past week I have been thinking about Desire. My thoughts usually begin when running errands or on my way to a photo shoot in the city. Shortly after turning down County Road 1 (an especially beautiful road flanked by fields and bright colored forests and rolling hills), I ask myself what I desire and, this past week, each time, my answer comes back the same. I just need a break. And before I even get half way through that thought I feel the sting of tears and a heavy sort of hopelessness. I know that is the exhaustion talking. Because giving myself a break would be easy. But what I really desire is to be able to take a break without having a mountain of work pile up on the other side of it. As I drive, I attempt to follow this string of desire to a solution, but my brain starts to feel cloudy; it bumps and skids a little; I feel an ocean of tears start storming in my belly. This is about the time when I become keenly aware that something needs to change...and soon. My desire for a whole day or weekend or evening of simply "being" rather than "doing" is so deep that I can feel it all the way through my bones and into the earth.

Letting myself get tangled up in this thought of wishing for some downtime never gets me anywhere. The wishing makes hopefulness grow cloudy. And so I take a nap and dust out the cobwebs. I start over and remind myself that starting over is something I need to do on a regular basis.

I admit that I have not yet even finished reading this past week's chapter ("Creativity"), but am savoring the question: What will help me to obtain my heart's desire? This is an action oriented chapter. I'm good at action. Unfortunately, I'm a little toooo good at it and so I proceed with caution. I tweak the question to go more like: What can I do to help me obtain my desire that won't just make more work for myself?

My desire is to make enough money that I don't have to work myself to the bone just to have enough to barely get by. My desire is to set myself up to get paid more and work less. My desire is to occasionally take a weekend or evening off just to do something else or nothing at all. My desire is to learn how to create free time and then not jam pack it full of more to-do's. My desire is to live a little bit more sanely and feel a little less exhausted in the process. I desire time off without worrying what kind of hellacious work load will await me on the other side. This is a simple desire, right?

I am ready to start living my new story. My new story requires creative thinking...and this kind of thinking requires one simple ingredient: rest. Right now I'm going to do just that.

Never mind that it took me all day to write this post. I got distracted. Distraction was bound to happen. It's a process. I feel awkward, but am baking a pie. Morning turned to evening...and now that the day flew by I think I'll go back to bed with my book. I obviously need practice when it comes to chilling out.

For now: more rest. Creativity coming soon.

Truth and the Fine Art of "Don't Know Mind"

2009-10-02T15:37:00.015-05:00

The Next Chapter :: The Joy Diet (chapter 2):
ok, ok, ok...I admit: I struggled and fought and wound myself up in a few uncomfortable corners with this chapter. I don't know how or why this happened except that I let monkey-crazy-rat mind take over. It talked itself into a messy little knot and made me a bit miserable in the process. How do I feel? What's the story I'm telling? Is it true? Dear god. I love these questions. But holy hell. Not this week. This week I did not love these questions. I did not even like them. It took an entire week to finally realize (this morning) that, all along, the questions, although maddening, have actually been working their magic in a slow, silent sort of way.

The time in between, well, there were other moments of complete and absolute contentment. Such as stopping (yes, actually stopping) to take in the many colors of a maple leaf while walking out in the woods. Then I noticed how that single leaf connected to a branch and how the branch connected to more leaves, connected to a tree, connected to other trees, connected to the sky, connected to the blue beyond, connected to the pond, connected to the grass, connected to the tree...and back again. I attribute the ability to even stop and notice these things at all to last week's practice of "Nothing." Amazing. Nothing continues to amaze me. I like "nothing." No, I luuuuuv nothing. I also find moments of perfect happiness/joy/contentment on the walk between the house and my studio. It takes all of approximately 40 or 50 steps and, in that time, I become aware of everything: the sky, the temperature, the coffee cup in my hand, the moon or sun, misty skies or blue, my body, mood, feet, hair, state of being, breath, the dogs, a glisten of light on the pond, a paw print, the movement of air, my beating heart.

There is joy in noticing these details. I blink in disbelief that I have a life that allows me to walk between my house and the studio. Every day. Morning, mid-day, evening...and even in the middle of the night.

But, many times this week, trying to figure out Truth got in the way of joy. To be honest, Truth was turning out to be a down-right joy wrecker. I spent many of my days going round and round on a few things that have been bothering me and coming up with new ones in the stupid, horrible process. In short, I was ruining otherwise beautiful days with my own Truth inquiries and ridiculous thought patterns.

Anyway, this morning I had a very profound and wonderful realization that the world around me is actually perfectly NEUTRAL. It's ME (my brain, thoughts, actions, words) that causes conflict, confusion, insecurity, distrust, hurt feelings, anger, inner turmoil...and all the other useless emotions that seem to have been paying me visits as of late. It's me...as in, NOT the world around me. Not this person or that person or that organization, but me. It took an entire week of having ridiculous arguing matches and stupid, endless conversations in my brain to finally realize that the only constant in any given situation is myself. It's me that is wrapped up in my situation, my stories, my dilemmas. No one else really cares.

And so that, my friends, is realization Numero Uno.

But there is a second part to "Truth"...and that is the difference between the stories we tell ourselves and another very important something called "Intuition." Chapter 2 has caused my philosophical brain to go a bit nuts, but please bear with me. My question is this: How do we know the difference between a story that we tell ourselves and simple, legitimate INTUITION? Which leads to another question: What is intuition in the first place?

Intuition. To be intuitive. This is something I value. I value intuition. It is something that exists not just in our tangible realm, but the psychic realm as well (oh boy, this could get deeper than I feel like delving in one lil' blog post). Intuition is the ability to read energy, to be aware of a flash of insight, and to simply be in tune with the moment, minus the clutter. BUT what if we let our stories get mixed up with what we think is intuition when really it is just our crappy old baggage weighing us down unnecessarily? And how do we know when to take our intuition seriously so that we don't have to live through a crappy experience only to say to ourselves in the end: "oh, I should have just listened to my intuition!"

See where I'm going with this?

Martha Beck points out that to not know (or to be unable to know) the Absolute Truth can be really, really uncomfortable. But it can also be very deliciously liberating. We are at the mercy of our ongoing experiences, but what we make of those experiences is truly up to us. She reminds us that "[o]nce we begin living with the full awareness of our basic fallibility, we can regain what Buddhists call the 'don't know mind,' the alert, receptive mental state that makes us capable of genuine perception." And that, my friends, is the place where sacred intuition lives. Yes, it's a fine line, isn't it--and I think it's safe to say that plenty of "Nothing" is required to keep a clear head in the matter.

Which leads back to being NEUTRAL. Right. This is a good lesson to learn. Returning oneself to neutral territory allows one to notice things like colorful maple leaves. It causes us to notice our body mid-step as we balance a too-full cup of tea as we walk across the driveway on a wet and windy day. Neutral is good. Neutral simply notices things. Neutral keeps us out of danger without creating unnecessary drama in the process.

Wow--and so I will just say that this was a very tough week of Joy Dieting. I am glad, however, that I stuck with it and didn't give up with the almost justifiable excuse: "I'm too busy for this."

It took awhile to get there...but something finally clicked. Sure, I still have a lot to figure out, but what I can say is that this week I got one step closer to myself. Today monkey-crazy-rat mind finally got a rest.

And, believe me, the silence has been golden.

I don't know about the rest of you, but...

2009-09-30T11:44:00.003-05:00

Today I'm realizing that, for me, "Truth" is most certainly one of the most complicated of flavors.

(book club thoughts on Martha Beck's The Joy Diet)

Truth Seeking on the 29th day of September.

2009-09-29T09:27:00.004-05:00

Cool fall morning. Lavender scarf. Dogs running through tall grass. Slanting early sunlight. Golden wooded trails. The sharp smell of something green and growing. Frost on the studio roof. A double espresso. Comfortable gray sweater. A long day of painting, beginning with this post.

Anu :: {an update on my girl}

2009-09-28T11:37:00.002-05:00

I just want to send a great big thank you for all of the supportive and thoughtful comments, messages, phone calls and emails that I got after writing about Anu this past week. You have no idea how blessed it makes me feel to have such incredibly loving people in my life.

Although I don't have a lot of time to write, I just wanted to let you know that she is doing better. Not perfect, but much better.

For now, we are giving her pain medication to make her feel more comfortable and she is responding really well to it. Her tests showed mixed results. There are some abnormal cells, but no conclusive answers just yet. She will need to get more tests for us to know for sure if it's cancer or not, but since treatment is not really an option due to her age and the size of the lump, we will just keep a close eye on her and bring her back to the vet for another look in a week or two.

In the process of all of this, we've been lucky to find a really wonderful vet in our area. Since moving, our regular vet is an hour away, too far for Anu to travel under the circumstances. Knowledgeable and caring veterinary care means a lot to me--and Dr. Geoffrey Passe of Cannon Valley Vet Clinic is just that. They got us in, despite a tight schedule and took the time we needed to make Anu feel a bit better and to put my husband and I at ease.

I admit that I was a bit of a wreck when I called in. With last minute preparations for a major show and magazine photo shoot also on my plate, this has been a very full week. Anu got sick right smack dab in the middle of it all and I think my heart came just as close as it ever could to breaking into a million peices. I can't even tell you how grateful I am to still have Anu by my side as I continue these long days of working and painting. Every time I look down at her, every time I touch her, every time I kiss her or hug her or feed her or look into her big brown beautiful eyes or even just think about her...I am filled with relief that the Universe decided to give me a break and grant me more time with her.

I was just seriously not ready to say goodbye. I never will be...but I am grateful for every single extra moment I'm given--whether it's a week or a year. I snuggle my face deep into her neck (my favorite part of her) and breathe deep the sweet smell of her wolfie hair. She stays closer to my side than she ever has before. We are savoring each other--all of us. We might have some tough days ahead, but right now there is happiness in her eyes. And I remind myself that this might be nothing at all. Whatever it is, in a very big way, it has caused me to appreciate what I have right here and now.

Thank you, Dr. Geoffrey, for helping us out during a difficult and scary time. Thank you, friends, for doing the same. Your stories, love, and well wishes mean a lot--to all of us.

Sending you lots of slobbery dog kisses,
Jessie

The Joy Diet :: An Introduction and a bit of Nothing.

2009-09-27T08:01:00.010-05:00

I've been meaning to write my introduction to Jamie Ridler's new book group, The Joy Diet by Martha Beck, for over a week now. I'm just going to go with the "better-late-than-never" motto and leave it at that. Anyway, today is just as good a day as any to start since I just came back from experiencing a blissful (massively blissful) moment of Nothing.

You see, I recently relocated to the edge of the Universe. We moved from the middle of a big city to a vineyard in the middle of nowhere. We traded in the bungalow we were living in for an earth home nestled in the middle of 50 acres. We call it our "hobbit castle" and, like hobbits, we have found ourselves to be very happy here. There is a big willow tree that graces the yard in front of our house and, beyond that, a pond visited by egrets and blue herons, wild geese, frogs and turtles, coyotes and bobcats, too. Beyond the pond are hardwood forests and a pasture inhabited by two brown horses and one white. I am most fascinated by the white horse and have really begun to love mornings, when our world is filled with so much mist that I can just barely make out those beautiful creatures beyond. At night, the sky is filled with stars.

This morning I got up early to turn off the windmill. It was windy last night. And that's another thing I've grown to love out here: the wind. You see, our water is generated by an old school windmill and then gravity fed from the vineyard to the house. We have to turn the windmill on every few days to fill up the well...and turn it off a day or two later so that it doesn't over-fill. Needless to say, living here is causing us to become very connected to the weather and our use of water. The second half of summer was still and windless. Running out of water is a horrible pain in the arse and so wind-sounds cause me to feel over-joyed, even with the subtlest of breezes.

I got up today in the early half-light of morning. I was starting to clench my teeth with worry over everything I need to accomplish in the next week and a half and decided that it would be best if I just got up and enjoyed my day instead of getting myself tangled up in my brain while laying in bed. It was too early for Vinny and the dogs to get up and so I had the quiet beginning of the day all to myself. I put on my husband's thick, fleecy sweatshirt and hiked up the path to the vineyard to turn off the windmill and, in the process, decided that I would treat myself to a nice big dose of Nothing.

Oh, Nothing. Sweet Nothing.

Why is Nothing such a complicated little nugget of goodness? Rather, Nothing is quite simple. It's just the getting there that is sometimes complicated.

If you've been a reader of my blog for any length of time, you probably already know pretty well what I'm like. I'm not very good at Nothing and I AM very good at overwhelming, overextending and overbooking myself. I am the Goddess of High Pressure. Or something like that.

In moving to this magical little oasis at the edge of the Universe, I decided that I wanted to change that about myself. Then I got sick. I got really sick and wasn't able to work for almost an entire month. That was frustrating and good for me all at once. You would think that this would have been a good lesson in The Art of Nothing--and it was--but then the other half of life and all its demands came crashing in on the other side of it with deadlines that cannot be moved and expectations that involve a lot of other people. I found myself with only a few weeks to create an entire art show--which is the activity that I am smack dab in the midst of right now. Among other things.

OK...so being overwhelmed and too busy is the story of my past. BUT what if I don't want that to be my story any more? Well, then I need to start telling myself a new story.

And so here it is...no matter what's going on, I need to start reminding myself that I DO have time for Nothingness. To prove this to my slow learning self, I am hereby committing myself to at least 15 minutes of Nothingness every day for the course of this book group. Thank you very much, Martha Beck.

This morning Nothingness looked like this:
A sleepy girl with tousled and disheveled bed head walking up a path lined with crimson sumac and wild plums. She gets to the top of the hill and notices an overflowing well. Water! She is happy. She is also alone. No dogs, no chatter, no phone, no nothing. It is just herself and the morning. She feels a bit nauseous from hunger because she didn't eat enough the day before and asks herself: what does my body need right now? She appreciates the way Nothingness causes her to ask herself this question because, in her bones, she feels it is a good question.

She walks the length of the vineyard, row after row of grapes hanging thick and heavy on the vines. She stops occasionally to taste them and is reminded of childhood Sweet Tart flavors--except these flavors are better. They contain something of both the earth and sky. She turns down a particularly inviting row and, once she gets to the middle, flanked on both sides by grape vines, she lays down in the dewy grass and--for the first time in several days--she breathes.

Deep blue sky-filled breaths.

She breathes and notices the feel of grass on her hands and neck and in her hair. She notices the way the grapevines and solidago plants look from underneath. She notices the color of the sky. She notices the change in temperature and that she has a body. She notices that it has been a long time since the last time she visited Nothingness. She decides that Nothingness is good medicine and is glad that she decided to get up early and that the windmill needed to be turned off and that it led her to that moment of lying in the grass in the middle of the vineyard in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the sky in the middle of everything.

When she gets up again her eyes see the world around her with a bit more vibrant colors. She feels the wind in her hair and it feels good. She notices that the landscape rolls in layers of dips and peaks, a patchwork of incredible colors: gold, orange, green, red, yellow. She notices the shells of recently hatched turtles and wonders if they are from the same tiny baby black turtles she found outside her studio door a few days ago.

She decides that Nothingness feels good. She remembers that she has the power to change her story if she really, really wants to because, mostly, it is just a matter of perspective anyway.

She comes down the trail from the vineyard and, at the bottom is met by her dogs with wildly wagging tails. They are beside themselves with happiness. And so is she.

Welcome to Nothingness.

I am looking forward to the journey that lies ahead of us.

~

Love...and all that goes along with it.

2009-09-24T12:23:00.015-05:00

Last night I slept on the floor of my studio with my wolfie girl, Anu. It's a garage, really. Complete with mice and spiders and things that go bump in the night. But I would do anything for my dogs. And they would do anything for me. My twelve year old babe is not doing very well. If you've been reading this blog over the past few years, then you know how important she is in my life. I am exhausted. My eyes are so swollen from crying that they are starting to hurt. I am beside myself with grief and yet I keep telling myself to buck up because she might just pull through--at least for awhile and, who knows, maybe even longer.

I honestly didn't know if she'd make it through the night, but decided against emergency vet care because I could not stand the thought of being told that I'd have to leave her there, alone, without the ones who love her. My worst fear is of her dying alone. No one should die alone. Not even a dog.

But we made it to morning. A few tests and bloodwork later, we're not sure what's going on with her. She has a large growth that might be cancerous and maybe not. It's been there for a long time, but recently it's started changing, at a rapid rate. Her bloodwork pointed to some abnormalities, but nothing 100% conclusive. If it is cancer, there's not much we can do except make her last days comfortable--whether it be 6 days, 6 weeks, 6 months or 6 years. She is, after all, an old girl. We've been advised to simply take it one day at a time. I'm trying to remind myself of that. I tell myself to stay present, lest I melt into a puddle of tears.

To make matters worse, I have approximately 2 weeks to complete 9 portraits in preparation for an opening and major event that takes place on October 8th. After getting sick and not being able to work for almost a month, I am mondo-behindo. I am tired. This year (numero 34) has been a somewhat hellacious journey and I am just so tired of pulling magic out of my ass. I will do it again. Magic is, after all, a specialty of mine. So far, I have deeply enjoyed the time spent painting in preparation for this show. It seems like an impossible feat to accomplish in such a short amount of time, but I have surprised myself before and have no doubt that I'll somehow be able to do it again.

I paint from such a deep place of love. It is hard to paint while Anu lays next to me in pain. My heart breaks. Not yet knowing if it is her time...I feel torn into a millions pieces. I will let her go when it is time. I don't want to. But I will. I paint with my heart up wide open. That's just the way it works. I am glad to experience such a profound sense of love through the work I do, but holy hell. I feel like I might metaphorically bleed to death (or maybe just cry to death, if that's an option).

On Saturday a magazine will be coming out to do a photo shoot of my studio for an upcoming feature. I am so excited about it. The photographer, whose clients include Life , Real Simple, Modern Bride...she's incredible. But, I admit, much of my energy flew right out the window when Anu got sick. Last night I kept getting this image of the photographer showing up to take photos of my red, swollen eyes and no Anu--which is not, by any stretch of the imagination, my idea of an ideal photoshoot. At the moment, I just feel haggard. I feel the need for an ice pack and some sleep. I feel the need for a big long snuggles with my girl. All of which I am going to indulge myself in--because there is no other way I'm going to make it through the next couple weeks unless I do.

Right now, Anu is asleep on the floor near my feet. Behind me, my other dogs, Louie and Ella, they have their legs wrapped around each other in sweet muggle-puffin play. They know something is up, their movements are especially quiet and gentle. Louie, my Chessie, is the most sensitive. His thoughtful expression breaks my heart again. Both the pups stop and sniff Anu and keep a watchful eye on her. We stay close and surround her with love.

Needless to say, my world is filled to the brim. So much love that I feel it sharply, painfully. Maybe everything is going to be alright. No matter what the outcome, in the end, I know it will be alright. But life just seems to be happening all at once these days. And, damn. This is just a bit too much.

My wolfie girl is my heart.

I don't want to have to say goodbye.

~

Notes to self:

2009-09-22T08:56:00.002-05:00

Paint lots. Walk often. Eat well. Remember to sleep.

Journey. Meditate. Journal.

16 days until the opening reception. Great magic required. And great magic available.

Feel love.
Smile often.
:)

All in a days work...

2009-09-18T22:16:00.005-05:00

This is a good life.

~

The birth of new.

2009-09-09T16:28:00.009-05:00

This is about the time of year when I start to get sick of warm weather. I begin to yearn for coolness of air. It inspires me, causes me to breathe deeper and has a way of expanding my body and brain from the inside out. I am a woman of winter, who loves fall without a doubt.

Yesterday I did something interesting. I went to visit a woman named Sage who taught me Shamanic Journeying. She traveled with me to find my power animal and also showed me how to find my human spirit guide.

I've learned a lot about myself since yesterday. I walked away with a lot of insight and information and a source to return to whenever I need it. I got a glimmer of what lies in front of me. It is incredible and colorful and expansive.

And so this is a bit of what it entails...

I'm going to start eating and cooking beautifully.
I'm going to take belly dancing lessons--and might even work on getting good enough to perform.
I'm going to sit in the woods and paint pictures of mushrooms.
I'm going to walk and meditate up on the hill in the vineyard.
I'm going to walk deep in the woods and beyond.
I'm going to invite magic to infuse my senses.
I'm going to stretch and listen to wild music while I paint.
I'm going to drink wine and tea and build bonfires and have fun.
I'm going to start watching out for myself.
I'm going to become more sacred and irreverent all at once.
I'm going to start doing lots of things and stop doing lots of other things.
I'm going to cackle and dance and paint dogs.
I'm going to bring women together.
I'm going to fly and stomp and leave this dimension entirely, at least for awhile.
I'm going to spend time with water.
I'm going to spread my wings to the current of the wind.
I'm going to write.
I'm going to eat tomatoes from the garden. And wild plums along the way.
I'm going to shed my old self.

This here is hereby the birth of someone new.

In visions...

2009-09-01T09:59:00.011-05:00

You would be amazed by how many blog posts I write in my head every day. Never mind that they don't actually make it to my blog, but it does seem to be my method of making sense of this experience called LIFE.

These days I'm fluctuating somewhere in the middle. What I mean by that is that I seem to be in a holding pattern somewhere between starting to feel better (from my Rocky Mountain Horror Syndrome--yes, I'm being dramatic here) and still not feeling good at all. It is frustrating. I start to feel better and, therefore, treat myself to something wonderful like and afternoon of boutique browsing with my mom and--whamo(!)--I end up feeling like a piece of crap again.

I don't know if I'm sick from being sick or sick from the antibiotics used to treat it. Luckily, today is my last day of the antibiotics which means that I will at least be able to read my body a bit better. Yuck. I hate writing about being sick. It feels pathetic and weak. And I think that is one of the things that I hate about not feeling good. Pathetic and Weak are two states of mind that I prefer to avoid. Then again, I am fully aware of the fact that I have needed to be smacked down like this in order to knock some sense into me. I needed to slow down. I needed to shift gears and readjust for whatever is coming into my life next. As I've mentioned before, there is a transformation happening. I feel it, even if I don't yet understand the details and particulars.

Last night I laid in bed unable to sleep. My mind was racing with all the things I have to do and remember. One of the good things about getting sick is that it caused me to stop doing this for awhile. I hate the thought of this mental racing returning and so I got up to sleep on the couch and, in the process, wrapped myself in a blanket to do some meditating.

The thing is that my mind was not really racing in its usual way. It was going through all the details of things I have to do...but what I was really doing was trying to figure out what is next. I was trying to figure out the missing piece of the mysterious puzzle that is stretched out before me.

Last night I watched a video by Goddess Leonie. She talked about a meditation in which she surrounded herself with angels. I loved this idea. It seemed as though it would be helpful, comforting, and good. And so I sat nestled on the couch between the warmth of two dogs and a thick afghan blanket. I imagined myself (only semi-successfully) being surrounded by angels and repeated the question: "What's next? How should I move forward?" I sat with that question for 10 or 15 minutes until, finally, a deep sleepiness took over me. There was a part of me that was frustrated with not being able to see the answer to my question (I was, after all, hoping for a divine sort of vision). There was another part of me that was just grateful to feel my body relax. The feeling of exhaustion makes it really hard to believe in yourself sometimes.

Sleeping helped to rejuvenate my spirit just enough. I woke with a pin-prick of memory of the horses that live at the end of our (very long) driveway. I have made a promise to myself to spend time walking in the vineyard or woods. Alone. Without dogs or husband or distraction. I am dedicating myself to this half hour walking meditation--every day. Last night my walk took me through the woods and down the drive way. It brought me to 3 brown horses and a white one.

When I got there I just stood and watched them. The white one, in return, watched me. It was nothing special and something very powerful all at once. Yes, a pin-prick of energy is the only way I know how to describe it. Like a zing between the horse's eyes and mine. I looked at her body in the light of the setting sun and decided that, yes, I am capable of painting her.

You see, the body of a horse is different than anything that I've ever painted before. I understand dogs and cats because they have always existed closely in my life. Horses, although I've spent time with them, I do not have such a strong understanding of. Their bodies are magnificent and mysterious to me. With paint, I want to get it right. I want to do their muscles and nuances justice. I want to be able to capture their individual and unique spirit, their energy--and, if I can't do that, then I don't want to paint them at all. This is not about perfection. It is about connection.

I keep going back to this idea and, yet, although it sounds silly, I still can't seem to find my way in to the center of it.

I also feel a "falling away" of other details in my life. In some ways this feels sad to me. Some of these details include relationships and interactions as I currently know them. This is difficult to explain since I am not cutting out any friendships. I guess you could just say that my role in them is changing. It is a type of letting go. But in letting go there is a bit of loss involved--even when letting go is a step in a new and energetic direction. This direction will most definitely still include dogs. I am in a state of constant amazement by how inspired I am with new ideas for how I want to paint them--it is like a light that never turns off.

And, in this process, there is some part of this that is trying to break off. There is probably a geological term for this. I think, really, what is trying to happen is that my higher self is trying to do something that I have not yet done. Whatever it is that is trying to manifest itself in me is requiring a lot of independence. It is requiring a new and bigger part of myself to emerge.

Whenever I see glimpses of this part of myself, the vision always includes me standing at the highest part of the hill in the vineyard in the light of the almost setting sun. What does this mean? I don't know.

But I do think I should go there often to see if this mystery might someday be revealed to me.

Here's to the journey.
Namaste.

Welcome to my new studio...

2009-08-22T20:52:00.015-05:00

Slowly, slowly things are coming together. The boxes in the studio are being unpacked one at a time. Progress is being made and, in the meantime, there is the half of the studio that is fairly functional. The glowing, magical, peace-filled half that I visit on a daily basis...even when I'm not making any art.

Today it dawned on me that I have been trying to continue working as though nothing has happened. Sure, I've slowed down about 10 notches, but I've still been trying to make it to meetings and keep up with email and basically stay on top of things. It was only Monday that I went to the doctor and was told I have Rocky Mountain spotted fever. I mean, what the hell is wrong with me that I can't just take several days off (days that I've really needed to take off) and truly relax, rest, and heal?

Actually, to my credit, I have been doing a lot of resting. Mostly because my body left me no other choice. Looking back on the week, I am seeing that I should have rested a lot more. Getting sick like this is just about the best thing that could have happened to me. I know that sounds weird, but I needed this. I was running myself into the ground--hard and fast--and becoming increasingly anxious and unhappy in the process.

Anyway, my life is in the process of changing. I am in the middle of a metamorphosis and, although it has been ugly, pathetic, and painful, it is exactly what I need.

Melly Hocking wrote a thought provoking post about change. She wrote about something that I've been thinking about a lot lately and that is limiting beliefs. We all have them. But only those of us daring, self-indulgent, growth-thriving maniacs strive to become aware of them. And then there are those of us who, once we're aware, can't help but torment ourselves further by attempting to overcome those beliefs.

It is maddening and inspiring all at once.

Anyway, I'm going to make myself nice and vulnerable by sharing some of my limiting beliefs with you here now. Airing out the dirty laundry, shall we say?

And so here are a few of the trolls that live inside my head:

"I'm fat and stupid and ugly." (oh, this one is practically a mantra! I know it's not really true and so I've been working hard on cutting this one out of my vocabulary. Funny how habitual some of the things we say to ourselves are!)

"You're never going to make more than $xx,000 a year...no matter what you do." (I tell myself that there is something about me that puts that message out into the world. My hair? My mannerisms? My clothes? My body language or the way I carry myself? My attitude? My language? My shoes? My skin? What if, way down deep, I'm just nothing more than a half notch up from white trash? There is a part of me that believes that I will never be anything more than someone else's worker, a less-than, a half a step away from being a grocery store check out clerk, that I'm someone striving for more success than I'll ever get and that I look like a silly fool in the process of trying to get there.) Oooh! Ouch. That troll was honest! (Sometimes I think we just need to love our trolls. They're like children who lash out because they're in need of some positive attention once in awhile, you know?)

"I don't have a mind for numbers and this is always going to hold me back." (First of all, math might not be my strong suite, but I've always made up for my weaknesses with massive doses of determination! If I were to be honest with myself I would see that I've been LETTING it hold me back! This thought alone is very intricate and deeply woven--deserving of a blog post of its own if I could just unravel it well enough to make sense.)

You have to work in corporate America to make anything more than an average income. (uh-em! I would like to prove this wrong. One thing I DO NOT believe in is the Starving Artist Syndrome. That is something I have absolutely NO interest in playing the role of.)

I'm an artist and people don't take me seriously because of it...at least, not on all levels like they do other professionals. (In all honesty, I see people treating me with as much respect as I treat myself with.)

I have to work hard to do well. I mean REALLY hard! I have to work even HARDER if I'm going to do something I love. (Wait a minute...who am I trying to prove this unfair work ethic to?)

Ummm....yeah. You get the point. I'm sure there is more where these come from. I know there are, but these are the first that came to mind. There are all sorts of sneaky limiting beliefs that hold us back all the time--in both big and small ways. Usually it's lots of small things that ADD UP--big time!

BUT when we stop to look at those limiting beliefs we begin to see what UTTER NONSENSE they really are.

Here's the deal...I really, truly, full-heartedly believe that every single one of us is capable of ANYTHING when we allow ourselves to shine. And it doesn't matter what our back story is. Every time we feel ourselves shine we are on the right path. Do you know the shine I'm talking about? That radiance that beams from the inside out--that's the shine I'm talking about.

Shine and follow it. Shine and follow it. Shine and follow it. Just think where we'd end up! And at lightening speed!

But we get scared. We tell ourselves lies. We second guess and then allow ourselves to become distracted.

OK...so what are your little lies? I know you have them. Just think who we would be without them! Do you/I even realize how LIMITLESS we would be?!?! How limitless we ARE?!

Oh yeah...anyway, this was supposed to just be a post to introduce my new studio space. Just beyond the studio door is a trail to the vineyard. Despite my endless list of difficulties, I am fully of aware that I am one lucky dog. This life is not fancy. But it fits me well. I could not be in a more perfect spot to take the next step forward.

I have a feeling that is true for all of us.

Namaste,
j.

my little ella bean...

2009-08-21T23:27:00.002-05:00

I love that girl.

~

It just doesn't seem fair (stupid ramblings from a broken down commuter)

2009-08-20T10:24:00.004-05:00

Today I left the house for my first meeting in two weeks. I made it 5 miles down the road and my emmissions light went on (I have a newer car and don't want to think about these things). Chug, chug, chug down the freeway until finally it felt unsafe and I pulled over. Slowly I made it down the side of the highway until I made it to a ho-dunk service station where they weren't able to anything more than give me the phone number for the Honda Service Center. The Honda Service Center beamed like a ray of heavenly light that I could only hope to get to! After talking with a Honda service technician I decided to brave the last 10 miles with their phone # in hand, should I need to be towed.

Just got here. Got my cup of coffee, a cookie, and even a computer to sit down and lament on. Geez, what is up with this bad luck?!

When leaving the middle-of-nowhere service station I had a thought about angels helping me get from point A to point B. Funny, but I think they showed up.

I love the Honda Service Center. An oasis. I love my little lime green Honda Element. Brave girl. Let's just hope the warrenty covers her. Fingers crossed! I'm just kicking myself for not bringing a book with me. I always bring a book!

Meeting cancelled. I wonder if I will ever make any headway. All I can say is that I'm glad I didn't have to walk anywhere. I think I would have laid down and cried. My body just isn't ready for this.

Gah.

Rocky Mountain spotted fever.

2009-08-18T20:37:00.005-05:00

At the moment, I am laying in bed with two farting dogs. I've taken the day off and, for that matter, most of the past week too. Not because I've wanted to. No, I've been fighting it tooth and nail! But I've been sick. When I say sick, I mean really sick. I mean the I-wish-I-would-die sort of sick. Not that I want to die. Far from it. But there were a few moments that I was really wishing someone would just put me out of my misery.

Yesterday I finally scraped myself off the couch and made myself go to the doctor. It was the spots covering my body that convinced me to go. Never mind how horrible I felt in every other way possible.

You can imagine my disbelief when they told me that it looks as if I have Rocky Mountain spotted fever. Rocky Mountain spotted what?! I mean, I've heard of it...but. Geez. Anyway, they started treatment immediately since failure to do so can be dangerous if not fatal. As you can imagine, sitting in the doctor's office listening to all of this was a bit surreal. At this point I'm not sure if I feel like crap from my initial (and current) physical condition or from the powerful antibiotics that they are using to treat it with. What is it, you ask? Well, sort of like a scarier version of Lyme's Disease. Google it. It's interesting, if nothing else.

I imagined a more poetic or humorous or dramatic post about this exotic sounding sickness I've picked up. But there you have it. I'm covered in a rash and am glad to have survived a weeks worth of migraine-like headaches, nausea and fevers.

Everything is on hold.

I pulled a Medicine Card today and got the "Bat." Perfect. This is some of what it said (shortened version, of course):
"Bat embraces the idea of shamanistic death. . . Shaman death is the symbolic death of the initiate to the old ways of life and personal identity. . . If Bat appeared in your cards today, it symbolizes the need for a ritualistic death of some way of life that no longer suits your new growth pattern. This can mean a time of letting go of old habits, and of assuming the position in life that prepares you for rebirth, or in some cases initiation. In every case, Bat signals rebirth of some part of yourself or the death of old patterns. If you resist your destiny, it can be a long, drawn out, or painful death. The universe is always asking you to grow and become your future. To do so you must die the shaman's death."

And so there is one half of me imagining a caricature of myself standing on top of a pen-drawn mountain. I'm covered in cheerful pink polk-a-dots striking a Saturday Night Fever pose. That same part of me has John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High" playing over and over in my head. I imagine dying from listening to his music. That part laughs at myself and the absurdity of the entire situation.

There is another part of me that sits in a chair under the willow tree and stares out over the pond in a complete space-out.

There is another part of me fitfully asleep on the couch, the floor, the bed, then the other bed.

There is yet another part of me that sees this uncomfortable state of being as a perfect (although strange) match for the transformation that is taking place both within and around me.

At the moment, mostly I just feel crap. I can't work for very long. It takes most of my energy to walk from the house to the studio. I've been canceling photoshoots and meetings all week and last. Today I went for a short drive with the dogs and it was a big deal. Oh boy. Sitting in front of the computer for very long is impossible. Unpacking is not an option. Building my empire is out of the question.

Everything is on hold. I wait to feel better. I begin to understand that I need to just experience this. I don't have to get deep about it. I've already done a lot of thinking. Right now I find it difficult to think much at all. And that, my friends, is probably what I need more than anything: to stop thinking for one divine minute.

Rocky Mountain spotted fever is hereby the strangest illness that has ever come my way. I laugh at the idea! But earlier this week, the pain was enough to bring tears, too. The important part is that I think I'm on the mend.

Life is strange. That's all I have to say.

Ridin' the Airwaves: Radio Interview tonight!

2009-08-09T14:58:00.004-05:00

It's time to play with Sage Lewis, The Creature Teacher! The Pet Playground is an entertaining and educational call in show for pets and the people who love them.

Tonight I have the great honor of being interviewed by Sage Lewis of Dancing Porcupine. I will be joined by the wonderful Sarah of Sarah Beth Photography as a fellow guest. Sarah and I love collaborating with each other when given the chance. To be interviewed on the radio together with Sage, well, that's an added bonus!

I look forward to sharing a little bit about my life and work as a pet portrait artist. Let's connect over the good things in life!

Please join us tonight!
The Pet Playground - Your Place to Play
Sunday, August 9th, 6-7pm
AM950 KTNF

Pour yourself a nice tall glass of lemonade and head out to the front porch to relax and listen in. Not a Minnesota listener? Technology is a wonderful thing! Audio stream via KTNF's website here.

Busy out playing in the sun? No worries! A podcast will be available for your listening pleasure here.

Have any burning question for me, Sarah, or Sage? Call in! We'd love to hear from you!

Listener Call in #952-946-6205

~

Musings from under the willow tree...

2009-08-08T21:32:00.012-05:00

Under the willow tree has become my favorite space in the universe. It is made of magic and sacredness. Its bending braids of leaves and branches refresh me. I've been feeling a bit like I've been bounced around inside of a pin-ball machine, but that feeling always goes away when I step under the green comforting contours of the willow that graces our yard.

Louie and Ella's favorite thing in the whole universe: the soccer ball.
A happy tie with running through the willow's drippy branches.
Willow tree + soccer ball = blissful dog glory!

My life feels fragmented. Good, but a bit unsettled. Things are changing. I can feel it. Shifting. Lots of shifting. Even all of my friends seem to be moving. There is a lot of change for many of us. It is in the air. I feel better than I've felt in a long time and feel a bit undone all at the same time. The stress of moving is real. And, yet, moving is the best thing I could have ever done.

As I look around at the mountains of junk and boxes that I have dragged from our old house to this one, I see myself reflected in the mess. I see the storm that was brewing under all those piles and am glad and grateful that I have finally decided to do something about the chaos that's been quietly accumulating. I'm beginning to see how much stress I've kept myself under these past 10 years. I was thinking that this state of overwhelm has only existed for the last couple of years, but as I look at everything, I am beginning to see that it started much earlier. All these boxes of stuff are puzzle pieces of me that I am only now beginning to put together in a new and revealing way.

I'm beginning to better understand my destructive habits. I'm also remembering what brings me the most joy.

Life is full, full, full to the point of bursting. I suppose you could say that I have always been lucky in this way. But sustained fullness requires balance and that is something I am trying hard to understand. Balance is a bit of a foreign language to me. I used to know its language....but these days I seem to get my consonants and vowels turned around.

There is change in the air. And a settling all at the same time. A strange combination of sensations. It feels palpable. An opening...leading where, I don't know.

Besides the willow tree, there is another place that I love...and that is my new studio. Having only recently moved in, I get visitors: the occasional mouse, spiders, a dragon fly and a cricket or two. I carry the mice outside in an upside down bowl with a dust pan slid underneath. They are sweet and vulnerable and easy to catch. I can't bring myself to do otherwise. Blue herons, egrets and wild geese fly over on a regular basis. Anu is always with me when I'm there. She is my love, my old spirit. She doesn't care about mice or toads or crickets. Instead, she concentrates on the coolness of the floor, our quiet companionship, the comfort of the sun or blowing fan. We stretch together on a daily basis--hand to paw.

In the studio, Louie and Ella come to visit, too. Life feels normal there. Despite boxes.

My most recent work includes a dog named Henry.

"Henry"
6"x12" Oil on Canvas

Henry is hereby the very first portrait that I have completed in my new studio space. These past several weeks have felt more than a little overwhelming with the move on top of an already busy schedule of summer events and projects. There is one thing in the world that puts me right back to center and that is painting. No matter how much I have going on...painting makes me feel calmer in a nano-second. Of course, painting a really great dog makes it even easier to breathe deeper and be inspired.

Thank you, Henry, for making me feel good. :) You were painted in the company of 3 great dogs, double espressos, and some really great music in a fresh, new, and not yet unpacked studio space. You were a perfect beginning to all that is to come.

Life in our new place is good.

2009-07-25T23:31:00.005-05:00

It is sunny, light-filled, and lofted.

It is filled with love.

~

Good morning.

2009-07-23T08:40:00.000-05:00

Need I say more?

~

The Hobbit Castle.

2009-07-21T08:31:00.008-05:00

It is a rainy day at our new home on the edge of the universe. I am writing from the loft of the Hobbit Castle (the name appropriately given to this place by the creative and wise Connie). I am surrounded by sleeping dogs and husband, a purring cat at my feet. We moved this past weekend and are finally finding our way towards feeling rested. It was a big move. We have a lot of stuff. I mean, a seriously LOT of stuff. And, anyway, it wasn't just our house we were moving, it was the studio, too. That, my friends, is a lot of moving!

This post isn't turning out nearly as poetic as I was hoping for, but I will say that we love it out here. I'm quite positive that I have never seen my animals so happy--all 5 of them! We've been having problems with the well and even though we've been without running water for the past 3 days, I STILL love it out here! Did I mention that we don't have propane for the stove yet either? It's a bit rustic out here at this point...but we DO have electricity! I admit, I love rustic. It makes me feel grounded. It makes me feel connected.

Seriously, I am beside myself with happiness. A calm, comforted, deep breathing sort of happiness.

The rain slides down the big, slanted windows in the living room. A blue heron stands hunkered down in the middle of the pond. Last night we listened to the howling and yipping of coyotes. There are more stars out here then we know what to do with.

I don't know why I was away from this kind of life for so long, but I will say that it feels really, really, deeply good to be back.

And now...I am off to brew a pot of coffee and walk through the rain over to the studio with all of my wet dogs. There is still so much unpacking left to do...and yet I am enjoying every step of it. I am exactly where I am meant to be. And that is a very, very good feeling.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die discover that I had not lived.” ~Henry David Thoreau.

Wanna be my fan?

2009-07-15T19:28:00.003-05:00

Join me on Facebook! I've finally created a Stray Dog Arts page. Hurray!
Of course, everything is better when it includes friends!

Stray Dog Arts on Facebook

red beans. white bowl.

2009-07-12T18:29:00.024-05:00

At the moment I am eating a bowl of red kidney beans with a spicy tomato sauce and Indian spices. I have a cup of French press coffee by my side that I have yet to taste. I got home earlier today from a short camping trip with my dad, siblings and family.

I keep writing sentences and then deleting them. I am trying to get at the essence of now, but the only thing that seems to be able to contain it is this steaming, bowl of bright red beans.

Vinny headed out to "the farm" with a load of stuff. I hung back at home with 2 extremely tired dogs and the intention of getting some painting done. Instead, I've spent the past couple hours unloading kitchen shelves, washing fine china, and preparing to move. I think it's starting to finally sink in. Although we've been slowly packing and moving stuff for the past few weeks, it finally dawned on me today that we are, in fact, really moving. We rented a truck and will haul the majority of our stuff, including the furniture this coming Sunday. One week!

Here my last post is all about optimism and yet, over and over, I keep noticing an irritating feeling of apprehension dull my excitement every once in awhile. I think of all the people I've heard say that they don't want to get excited about one thing or another until it actually happens. They hold back, using this delayed sense of excitement as a buffer, a safety precaution to ward off possible disappointment. They tell themselves not to get excited until it has become a tangible reality--and, even then, they sometimes hold back. I never understood that. It seemed a little bit absurd to me to pass up on any sort of opportunity that presents even the smallest morsel of hope or happiness. Why not get excited about the possibility of something good happening?

But now I understand. I guess getting hurt will sometimes do that to a person. I hate to admit that there is a little part of me that is afraid of dreaming too big or, sometimes, even at all. There's a wee little lingering part of me that is afraid that someone will pull the floor out from under me again. Afraid that I will set myself up for stupid failure.

And yet I am grateful for the awareness of this fear. It is, after all, a vague feeling. It is a feeling that is always accompanied by a sense of hopelessness. I have been truly feeling like this move is an opportunity for me to change some bad habits, explore new opportunities, and to finally follow through on some lingering desires. When I get into the center of those thoughts, all of my doubts just disappears. Quickly, magically, immidiately. POOF! Everything is possible. There is no need to give up. There is hope...yes, even for me.

This weekend, while my family was all out hiking, I laid in the tent alone and cried. Big, fat cleansing tears. I realized how absolutely exhausted I was. I remembered how powerful I am, how powerful every single one of us is...if we chose to believe that. I thought about how small exhaustion makes me feel. How powerless I am when it takes hold of me. These days I am learning how to bring my life back to center. I have a lot to learn, but one thing I know for sure is that to continue to work at the pace I have been is insane.

Lately, I often imagine myself walking through the vineyard with all three dogs running along side me. That feels sane. I imagine myself going for afternoon hikes in the woods and letting my mind wander. That, too, feels sane. And I think about how I will manage my time between computer work, painting, and meeting with people in the city. In the haphazard current of these thoughts I am beginning to understand that there is only one way to change anything and that is to

LET GO.

Yadda, yadda, yadda...I read about letting go over and over and over. It makes perfect sense. Right? Of course it does...in theory.

It seems that I'm taking the long way around...writing myself to some sort of deeper understanding about all the mixed thoughts that bumble or blaze through my head during the course of a day.

Here's the deal....
I have to let go of the feeling of apprehension that something is going to go wrong and that I am going to feel stupid, naive and let down because of it.
I have to let go of the belief that I am always going to have to work hard to get by.
I have to let go of the idea that I am lacking some magical quality that other successful people possess.
I have to let go of the fear of "not enough"(especially when it comes to time and money).

I mean, I really seriously, deeply need to let go of these things. Belief in myself and the universe has been tested pretty thoroughly on a few occasions these past couple years. Once when I parted ways with my dreams of teaching university level writing and again when I walked away from last winter's partnership and studio space. Both were, in their own ways, necessary experiences. Both taught me the necessity of being true to myself. And yet, in those moments before letting go, there was a very important ingredient missing. I can't quite put my finger on what that ingredient was, but it had something to do with alignment. The most worthwhile part is that I literally feel myself growing from these experiences--like the thick-stemmed tomato plants I planted in our new garden last week--I feel myself growing from the inside out and the outside in.

Anyway...this is just me rambling, trying to capture this time of in-between. When I relax I realize how much I miss writing, how much I miss this blog, how much I miss those little moments of connecting with the thoughts that run through my brain.

The kitchen was the first room I unpacked when we moved into this house. I remember that first morning. We were so exhausted and yet the sun was so beautifully bright. My world sparkled. The ivy covering the windows glowed an emerald green. I made 2 cappuccinos--one for me and one for my husband--and they were the most beautiful cappuccinos either of us have ever had. These days, that same kitchen is dimmed by dust. Ivy has not graced the windows since it was torn down by the painters last summer.

And so...I am happy to be washing the comfortable cups and saucers brought from Italy by Vinny's grandma. Now that I've given them some attention, I like the way the ice cream bowls handed down from my mom have regained their glassy sparkle. It makes me feel good to carefully fill a sink of soapy water with fine bone china and then, one by one, rinse them and set them on a white towel to dry in preparation for something new. I thrive on new. And yet I hold dear those old things that make me who I am.

Red beans in a white bowl. A cup of coffee. A sleeping suckling dog. Funny how such simple things possess everything I need. Funny how often I need to remind myself that everything is as possible as I allow it to be.

Optimism.

2009-06-28T21:43:00.008-05:00

I can't help it. I'm an optimist. My husband says I'm an idealist. He calls himself a realist (which, let's admit, is pretty much just a slight upgrade from being a pessimist). I was mildly surprised when he didn't call me a dreamer. I was prepared to argue. I won't argue with being an idealist though--because it's true. I tend to walk around with an ideal version of what I want things to look like or turn out like or...yeah...I keep it tucked somewhere at the back of my eyeballs and I'll be damned if I'm gonna give up trying to manifest it on one level or another. I do this with painting, with living, with writing, with everything. Leah says I'm stubborn. And, yes, that would be true, too. Dang, I just love her--because she's honest and I couldn't agree with her more.

Sometimes my version of "ideal" changes. But one thing I'm fairly certain of is that my ideal version of life doesn't look like most people's. If it did, I'm pretty sure that I would not get so excited about the potential of a dirtly ol' garage in the middle of nowhere.

The garage, an earth-home constructed workshop, is about to become the home of the Stray Dog Arts studio. I've been letting my imagination run away from me on a fairly regular basis and am looking forward to the two larger-than-life paintings that I'd like to start once I get moved in. One will be of an English Mastiff named Beatrice. The other one will be of my grandpa. For some reason, it fascinates me to paint the two of them at the same time. I admit that painting my grandpa scares me. I'm afraid that painting him is going to make me love him even more. This scares me because, no matter how lucky you are, grandpas don't get to live forever. I guess that's one thing that grandpas and dogs have in common--and I love both, dearly. Come to think of it, that old garage that I am turning into my studio reminds me of my grandpa--completely--and that's probably one of the reasons I like it so much.

It even has a window that looks like it belongs on the side of a ship (not that my grandpa ever had a ship). On the other side of those big windows is where the garden starts. Despite the late start, I am planting bright red sunflowers and riotous bursts of zinnias. We'll also scatter some butterfly garden seeds, carrots, and sugar snap peas. I like imagining what it will be like to get lost in work up to the workbench and then look up into a world of bloom. I've been calling this year my year of "wild bloom." I had no idea that it would manifest itself so literally. Then again, this year has been full of surprises. This surprise just happens to be heavenly.

Although we don't technically move in for another 2 weeks, today Vinny and I spent several hours tilling the new garden space (and if you've ever done much gardening, you probably know just how difficult this is to do!). Behind the studio we'll plant tomatoes, more sunflowers, moon flowers, potatoes, peppers, string beans, spinach, lettuce, swiss chard, zucchini and some basil. I love it that I am going to be surrounded by growing things! Anyway, I've been meaning to give you a brief introduction to our new place and so here it is.

Here's to the optimism of growth. Here's to turning a dirty old garage into the best place on earth. Here's to bursting into wild bloom. Here's to turning inside out in the process. Here's to remembering who we are. Here's to living authentically. Here's to breathing deep and being crowded with unexpected joys.

Wreck This Journal :: Stress Reducing Activities.

2009-06-10T14:52:00.004-05:00

“Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction"
~Pablo Picasso.

This is the post where I break in my new book. I'm quite positive that there were other things I should have been doing, but what can I say? I was feeling inspired. ;)

The Next Chapter: Wreck This Journal by Keri Smith.

~

rambling little snap shot of here and now (including a pre-introduction to me as I begin to Wreck this Journal)

2009-06-09T22:53:00.009-05:00

Wow, I am incredibly tired. It is 11pm and I have not even had time to check my email yet today. This is unheard of. The same thing happened yesterday. It is normally one of the very first things I do every morning. And I mean every morning. I fear that I will have a mountain of emails to catch up with, but I am not even going to attempt it tonight. Right now I'm not even going to try and put together interesting sentences. I simply want to write. I want to tell you about my cat who is laying upside down in the warmth of the lamp glow with her paws stretching out towards me. She wriggles around and purrs and drives me crazy because she's messing up my stuff. And, yet, I love the expression on her face so much that I let her do it anyway. I want to tell you about how much my fingers hurt from working so much all week. Gawd, they hurt. And yet, today I noticed that, for the first time in my life, I am enjoying my hands and the way they look. I've always hated my hands because I have short, stubby fingers. But today I fell in love with them because they are doing exactly the work they were meant to do.

I also want to tell you how much I am enjoying this process of change. I feel like I am finally returning to myself after being away on a long journey. I admit, the journey wasn't even all that interesting, but I was away, nonetheless. I want to tell you about how much I am looking forward to what is to come. What is to come, you ask? Well, in a way, it is merely more of the same. The only thing that will be different is the location and angle of light shed upon my days. But who am I kidding? There will be lots of little things that change--and that is exactly what it is that I'm looking forward to.

In other news, this past weekend's art fair was a great success. It was my first "real" art fair, starting on Friday and ending on Sunday. I sold out of all my prints (had a ton of them) on Friday. Stayed up all night making more. Saturday was cold and rainy, but Sunday I nearly sold out again. I also managed to land 6 more commissions. This makes me supremely happy. Or maybe relieved would be a better word? Happy, relieved, tired. That's how I feel.

It was a lot of work, but I'm looking forward to the idea of doing more of these sorts of things in the future. Am I becoming an art fair carnie? Ha! Well, probably not, but I have decided that it is worth the pain and agony of schlepping my artwork and tent around in the cold and rain. Not to mention, I met some very cool people in the process. Mostly in the form of customers.

Today I hung a show. Funny, but it's not even a big deal any more. I did it by myself (normally my husband or brother helps me). Threw it in the car 15 minutes before I had to be there. Got frustrated when things wouldn't hang straight. Didn't waste time with placement. Didn't get nervous or worried. I just did it. Some things do get easier with practice.

Tomorrow I will attempt to climb the email pile, excavate mountains (closets, drawers, cabinets, boxes) of junk in preparation for a big moving (art and yard!) sale this weekend, meet with someone whose organization is using my artwork for an animal rescue event, declutter my studio (which looks like an art fair explosion), and let's not forget the most important part: I need to paint.

This post is boring. Mostly I'm just busy blowing magic out of my ass. And, actually, this is something I feel like I'm getting awfully good at. I do, however, notice an ever rising need for rest. You know...like the sort of sleep that comes in the form of long afternoon naps, in hammocks and on couches; relaxation that takes the form of books and movies; and quiet connection that is possible only through the act of letter writing.

Somehow I'll get through the next month. I'm not sure how, but it will happen. In the meantime, here I am recording my life in order to make sense of it later.

By the way, I am also looking forward to blogging about a current endeavor of Wreck This Journal. God, I love that book! At the moment, my book is still in pristine condition. This is gonna change as of tomorrow morning! For now, please consider this an introduction to the current state of my life.

If you don't already know me, I'm in the process of moving. I'm also in the process of learning and growing. I'm in a perpetual state of having bit off more than I can chew. I tend to dive, not jump. Life interests me greatly and there is just never enough of me to drink it all in. I figure that there are worse problems to have.

Here's to making a beautiful mess.

Peace and love to you, friends.
j.

transitional...

2009-05-31T05:13:00.012-05:00

It is much too early to be up, but I've given up on sleep. Actually, it feels kinda good to be awake. The sky is somewhere between night and morning. The birds are just barely beginning their overload of chirping.

Vinny and I went out to our new place yesterday and it was my first time seeing it since we originally went to look at it. We brought the dogs and our first small load with us--and (holy wow) it was just as incredible as I remembered it. I've never seen Louie and Ella so happy to be somewhere. Being "city dogs," I expected them to be reluctant or nervous--nope(!), they act like they've returned to a place they've known and loved forever. Anu, my wolfie, is a country girl. No doubt she'll fit right right back into it. But the ridiculous amounts of happiness in Louie and Ella's eyes and bodies was something to be behold. Zowzers!

A lot like the dogs, I couldn't drink it in deep enough (the smells, the sky, the quiet). I am looking forward to taking daily walks in the vineyard, the habits of undisturbed painting, and stepping outside every morning to the hush of a new world.

God, I am ready for this. The best part is that this relatively unexpected turn of events feels perfectly natural. As we drove home we noted how life can take us in directions that we could never imagine until we get there. Gosh, and I feel weepy as I write this. Not weepy sad...but weepy full of life. Glass half full, glass overflowing sort of full.

Yes, it feels good to be awake and writing. I couldn't sleep because I have a whirlwind of thoughts inside of me trying to find a plan and some sense of organization within me. After returning from "the farm" (it's not a farm, we just like calling it that) I found myself persistently whining to Vinny that I wanted to go back--and when I wasn't whining this thought to him, he was whining it to me. Technically, the place is not ours for another 4-6 weeks, depending on how quickly we get our current place rented out. We've been granted permission to start moving stuff into the garage and to use the garden, but it looks like we'll be in Limbo Land for at least a few more weeks.

Once home, despite the fact that I should be doing nothing else but preparing for a big art fair next weekend, I spent several hours packing and rearranging the house in preparation for stacking boxes. Our current house has hereby taken on a very definate "temporary" feel. The living room is a stack of both empty and full boxes and the dining room is nothing more than a table pushed to the window to make room for even more boxes.

We have an incredible amount of STUFF and this, along with my many work related summer projects, is what kept me up all night. I have no idea how I am going to make everything happen. But I do know that miracles do happen on a regular basis and that it will be worth every single sleepless night.

The house we're moving into is roughly half the size of what we're living in now. I am completely unwilling to take anything with me that no longer serves me. This is a liberating feeling...if only there was more time to focus on it. I laid in bed all night chewing on these muddy, disorganized thoughts...but then I got up and, as I brewed a cup of coffee, it dawned on me that this can look any way I want it to. It's all a matter of perspective, baby.

I might not have a lot of time on my side, but what I do have is the power of intention. I can intend for this to go gracefully, smoothly, quickly. After all, I have only spent a few hours on packing so far and, except for furniture, I have nearly emptied two rooms. Of course, the junk that once inhabited those rooms is mostly in boxes piled in the basement...but who's to say those piles won't go quickly also?

My goal? My goal is to have a massive rummage sale and to have nearly everything except our furniture and clothes moved by the end of June. It makes me nervous not knowing when we have to be out of this house, but I want to be ready when the time comes. I'm perfectly happy to live like I'm camping in this house until we're actually able to legitimately move into the new place.

And I realize that this blog post is probably completely mind numbing to the world at large, but (amazingly) I'm just writing this for myself (guess you'll have to just bare with me). Once upon a time, I used my blog for this kind of writing all the time. I miss that. It feels good to finally be able to let my guard down, to ramble, and to bore my readers to death. It means that my life is finally lacking editable drama--and I like it that way.

These days I feel myself returning to my whole self. I feel myself returning to and moving towards a cumulative power of being. My writing brain is rusty, but the sun has now risen fully. A new stage of the journey...this is always the best part: the beginning.

50 acres of wild and a whole lotta hobbit hole happiness...

2009-05-26T09:53:00.020-05:00

Three years ago we moved into a magical little ivy-covered bungalow. It was everything we hoped for, dreamed of, and wanted. I wrote a note to the Universe detailing the specifics of my what I wanted in a home and it was delivered with shocking accuracy. Not to mention, we found it through what I can only describe as divine intervention (a story too long to tell right now, but perhaps you'll just believe me). This place has served us well. Our front door faces a 500+ acre park and our back yard overlooks the Minneapolis skyline. We're 5 minutes from down town and hardly a hop and a skip into the park. The past 3 years, in many ways, have been kind to us. This place has allowed Vinny and I to grow and change and grow some more.

But then one day we realized that this magical little home had served its purpose and that we were beginning to outgrow it. The loveliness wore off and we began to feel a bit suffocated. The ivy was torn off by hired painters, we adopted two more dogs and, well, for no particular reason at all, the place just sort of lost its sparkle for us. We became hungry, once again, for stars and wildness and privacy. We became hungry for sky and space and the kind of nature that a city park just doesn't satisfy.

And so, about a month ago, we started dreaming about the possibilities. I started journaling and list-making about what we wanted. Vinny and I spoke our far-fetched dreams out loud with each other. Then I wrote another letter to the Universe, put it in my "Wish Box" and two days later...

Oh, sweet wildness!!

We got everything we were dreaming for and WAY MORE!!!! I can't help myself...I am giddy with excitement! Today we signed a lease for 50 acres of wilderness. Would it be obvious if I told you that it was love at first sight? Oh my, such an understatement! I don't even know where to begin! (I hate being so dramatic about things, but it really is worthy of giddiness and exclamation points!!)

OK, so how 'bout I start with a description...

50 acres of wildness, 5 acres of vineyard, a pond, endless trails, sprawling hardwood forests, an old railroad bridge and views that take your breath away, a loooooong and winding driveway, compete privacy. We'll live in an earth home (our sweet lil' hobbit hole) complete with an open loft (my office), wood stove, passive solar heat (read: super energy efficient and LOTS of light), gravity fed water from the crystal clear center of the earth delivered via a working windmill....

AND last, but not least(!)...

a separate earth-home-constructed workshop/STUDIO complete with big windows, big walls, big space and running water!!! Oh, holy wonderful!!! Did I mention the big garden that's tucked behind it? Did I mention the graceful white crane, the deer, the beaver lodge and nesting geese? Did I mention the giant weeping willow, the quiet, and the happy beating of my heart?

Seriously people. The place stole our hearts and our breath.

It is in the middle of no where and, despite the remoteness of it all, there was a steady stream of lookers to see the place. 20, 30...?? What the hell? I had never seen such a turn out! We wanted it bad. And we also knew the fact that we have (not one, not two, not three, but) FIVE pets might be an issue.

Vinny and I explored the trails and vineyard and--Oh, holy beautiful!!! It was so amazing that the shine that was beaming out of me nearly dissolved my skin!

I returned to the hobbit hole (where he was already talking to the next group of people) to leave our information. By that point, I'm fairly certain that my glow was bright enough to blind just about anyone. I gave him my phone number and quietly gushed that we loved it. He got it. He picked up on it. Know what I mean? And in that moment I felt something click into place. You know that click? The one that happens when something is about to change? That good feeling click...you know the one I'm talking about? Yes, that's the one.

It clicked.
And now, despite the crowd, despite our huge animal family, despite all the things that could have gone wrong...
the lease is signed.

I've already brought home my first load of boxes.
The packing begins!

~

cheap thrills...

2009-05-15T10:03:00.007-05:00

*Late night photo shoot with a Great Dane. Laying on the ground outside with my camera. Bad photos. Inspired to do it again.

*The soft smell of lavender incense.

*ipod playing on shuffle...India rhythms getting into my bones.

*$5 rummage sale find: a little red table that will work perfectly for my booth at upcoming art fairs.

*Open windows.

*Vacuumed floors (it's shedding season!).

*A vase filled with lilacs, sitting to the left of my computer (mmmmm....drinking in the smell) some from my yard and some from the neighbor's across the alley, resulting in a perfect combination of purple.

*Drinking coffee from a perfect handmade porcelain mug purchased on Etsy from this girl.

*Meeting with friends for lunch at an inexpensive Lebanese Restaurant where people at the tables next to you treat you like family.

*And, of course, the possibilities... those endless possibilities.

Here's to noticing the little things. ;)
j.

Turn-around time.

2009-05-12T10:37:00.006-05:00

I am glad to finally be really and truly out from under the black cloud that has been following me since this past January. I like to think of myself as resilient and optimistic, but the details of life have surely challenged this notion. It is a relief to finally be feeling a sense of hope and inspiration on a much more even plane--not just the stops and starts I was temporarily experiencing before.

At the moment, there is a pile of dogs at my feet. They are sharing a bone--each chewing on an end in a Zen-like snuggle. For real, where did I find such generous, gorgeous beings? So much love seems absurd and, yet, there they are laying on the floor next to me. I like the little sounds they make. They make my world feel grounded and real and complete.

Earlier today, while on our morning walk, I turned left where I normally turn right. The path took us into the woods, a place where I rarely go since adopting 2 more dogs (after all, walking 3 dogs takes considerable concentration). It felt good. Actually, it felt more than good. Having been a long time since my last visit to that wild part of the world, it felt new and unexplored. Down a trail deeper in the park, we came across enormous oak trees that had fallen in a storm and were being cut up. A bramble of fallen logs and dead fall--the spongy wet smell of freshly sawed wood was intoxicating to the dogs and myself, alike. So intoxicating that I went flying and stubbed my flip-flopped toe good. The result was bright red blood and the most concerned look from my babe, Ella, that I've ever seen. Happiness was tested: felt more love than hurt and reveled at the loveliness of the morning, despite my newly acquired hobble.

I sit here drinking a cup of freshly brewed Columbian coffee--oh, such a dusty, sweet, earthy flavor (yum!)--getting ready to take on another day. Yesterday I started a new series of paintings that feel delicious and different. I am working on sponsorship packages to pay for several thousand dollars of marketing and event costs for an upcoming exhibition. I am feeling audacious. I am feeling hopeful. I am feeling like I have something to give in return.

Finally, once again, I fit my own skin.

Who knew that these past several months would mess me up so thoroughly? Who knew it would take so long to get from one side to the other? Granted, I'm not expecting life to get "easy." After all, like usual, I've bitten off almost more than I can chew. But something tells me that I'm headed in the right direction.

There are two phrases that keep repeating themselves in my head. The first are Obama's words: "The audacity of hope." The second is: "Never give up."

Here's the deal: There is nothing about my situation that is deserving of audacity or hope. There is nothing about my situation that guarantees that persistence will ever get me anywhere. I'm broke. My bank account is dangerously close to $0. The economy is in shambles. I work out of a studio in my basement. I have no idea if anything I ever do will ever amount to anything.

And YET...I feel HOPE. There is a sense of fearlessness that outweighs my fears--maybe just barely, but barely is just enough. Bare amounts of fearlessness is enough to push past the discomfort. It is just enough to instigate bravery. It amazes me how easy it is to slip into complacency. It's easier to simply do whatever is on the to-do list than it is to stretch beyond our own self-made boxes. But that is where hope lives. It lives in the what's-just-outside-of-what-we-already-know.

Anyway, these days I am striving to paint things in ways that I am inspired to paint them. I am inspired by 6 foot paintings and 6 inch paintings. I am reawakened by the extremes and comforted by the soft breeze that blows through an open window. I am inspired by my friends. I am inspired by what I do not yet know.

Life is moving on. Sometimes the turn-around time just takes patience.

Message for the day: NEVER GIVE UP.

Namaste,
j.

sunshine inspiration.

2009-05-09T08:31:00.005-05:00

At the moment I am burning Sunrise incense and drinking a double espresso out of a small white cup. The morning sun is spilling across the dining room table where I sit with my laptop and journal, surrounded by color.

There are paintings leaned and stacked against the walls. There are candles and books and piles of magazines. A colorful rug, a purse, plants, and pottery. To be honest, this room is in sort of a jumble right now and, yet, it feels good when washed with so much sun.

I find myself hungry for words lately. And so I find myself returning to this space more often. Good thing, because I did not enjoy the absence.

I feel life "moving on"--and I like the way that feels, immensely.

I have so much to say! So many things that I have been thinking about, pondering, discovering, wondering....

This morning the world feels full of possibility. I mean, what if it is ALL possible? What if we are capable of much more than we realize? What if we found a way to make things happen?

Because when we really, really want something, I think the rest has a way of falling into place.

Dream in action. Stretch. Believe. Be Brave.

the verdict?

2009-05-08T22:51:00.014-05:00

We found the 80 acres magical. Unfortunately, we found the leaking ceilings, the crumbling plaster walls, the sculpted gold shag carpet, and the toilet that was about to fall through the second-story bathroom floor less than magical. Old farm houses are bound to have their drawbacks, but this one had just a few too many of them. Yes, it is unfortunate because it certainly did come close to fitting our dream criteria-- including the claw foot tub, an old country sink in the kitchen, and a studio with extra high ceilings. After all, these things were on my list of dream details (written in a list the day before...and then they showed up!). It amazes me how the things I want have a way of manifesting themselves. It doesn't always happen, but when I really, really want something with nothing but a pure heart...there it is.

Granted, the place we looked at didn't meet all of our hopes (the layout was off and so were the house's "vibes"), but it did plant a seed. We had never been to that area of the state before and, well...we fell in love with it. "Only" 45 minutes away from the city and yet an entire world away. It is a place made up entirely of rolling hills, hardwoods, pine, and a sunset that took our breathes away. There are endless bends of rivers and creeks and dirt roads. We saw horses, deer, wild turkey and pheasant. And a nearly full moon rose full and fat over all of it. Who knows what we might find one of these days when all the details of the universe fall into perfect alignment. When something is right, we know it with our whole being. That place came close, but not quite.

I will say, however, that simply the idea of it lit a whole new circle of fires within me. Sometimes I can't get this idea machine of mine to turn off--this is both a blessing and a curse. The importance and meaningfulness of these ideas come in various depths, but it's the ones that cause cellular shifts that are the most satisfying of all. Oh, Life. I am full to the brim with inspirations that fill my heart to the point of overflowing.

This evening I went to my 9 year old nephew's school play. It was a story about the moon. Being (the most amazing) Montessori students, they wrote, choreographed and visioned the entire play themselves. It was over two hours long--an amazing endeavor considering their ages (9-12 year old). The music, comprised of several variations of drums, xylophones, xylorimbas, and flutes, caused shivers to run up and down the length of my spine. The play was sweet and funny, but it was also deep and wise. It was filled with enough magic to transport me completely.

At one point they turned down the lights completely. The darkness filled with firefly light of the kids' dancing and swirling--and it awakened something inside me...how that happens is hard to explain, but magic is a pattern that I welcome wholeheartedly. It returns in little dips and doses and, for this, I am grateful. I had been living without it for much too long.

80 acres.

2009-05-07T08:08:00.008-05:00

Vinny and I are going to go look at some farmland this evening.

As I write that sentence I become aware of its absurdity. Nonetheless, we are restless and curious and dreaming of a place with breathing space and enough elbow room for the dogs to run. We've been dreaming of privacy and a night sky filled with stars. We dream about things like sunsets and distant horizons. And we imagine quiet sounds replacing the constant hum of freeway traffic.

I don't know if we'll actually make the move, but I do know that both of us are ready for a change. The house sits on 80 acres (a perfect combination of woods and field) outside of a little town. The little town comes complete with a grain elevator on Main Street (you know the sort of town I'm talking about, don't you?). And all of this sits right smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

Which leads to our only hesitation: the commute. Granted, working from home makes this easier for me, but Vinny would have a long drive 5 days a week and I would still have regular photoshoots and meetings in the city. We'll see. In short, this place will have to be made of magic before we'll actually do it--but magic IS something that I believe in. I've experienced it before. And I am ready to experience it again.

I've been living in the city for the past 3 years and, to be honest, I've loved most of it. But there is a bigger part of my heart that is built out of sticks and stones, woods and sky, stars and deer... I miss these things. Lately I feel the desire to retreat into nature. My true shine desires creative space, it desires heart space. And, in the process, I want to surround myself with nature's surprises.

I want to get back to my center. I want to listen to what is whispered in the wind. I want to paint farm dogs sitting in old red trucks. I want to have horses for neighbors. I want to be inspired by the colors of fire flies or the line of a fence separating ground from sky.

I've had trust broken and ideas stolen too many times in the past several months. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the city mentality. I'm tired of people only watching out for themselves. I'm tired of feeling like I have to constantly be protecting my heart and inspirations. When I do this I close myself off. And when I close myself off I am also closing myself off the flow of love and without the flow of love I cannot do my work because the nature of my work IS love.

Granted, moving is not going to exactly change anything. We all know that we bring ourselves where ever we go.

What can I say? The idea of life in the country returns me to a deeper part of myself. Almost 4 years ago I sold my place up north. It was made up of open sky and woods and magic. The only place I loved as much was a little village high in the Himalayas of India. I will never be able to replace either of those experiences. But I do think I am ready to bring deep connection back into my life--however that decides to manifest itself.

journey.

2009-05-02T21:55:00.009-05:00

At the moment I am laying in bed surrounded by dogs. Louis is curled up on a mountain of clean clothes that have been in a pile on the floor all week. I can't imagine they're even all that clean anymore, but he just looks so content there. I don't have the heart to ask him to move.

It's been a long day--one that started at the crack of dawn. Today was the day of the Animal Humane Society's Walk for Animals. A fundraising event that brought in over 8,000 people and is, if I'm not mistaken, the largest walk in the United States. Last year at this time I had just defended my thesis (after the 2 long and agonizing years it took to write it) and the very next day I jumped with both feet into my first event (last year's walk) in celebration of the public launch of Stray Dog Arts. It's amazing how much can happen in one year.

The sound of sleeping dogs makes me feel tired. I have a cup of Darjeeling tea sitting next to me and it reminds me of my time spent traveling in India and Nepal. Mostly, Darjeeling tea reminds me of Kathmandu where I stayed for over a month in a rented apartment overlooking the city. God, I miss it there. I miss it terribly.

While in Kathmandu I bought a little heating element from a cubbyhole of a shop that I used to boil water for tea. It clipped on to the side of the glass and would boil the water in a moment. I drank a lot of tea in Kathmandu. I drank tea and wrote and walked and wrote and drank tea. I woke up early every morning and sat on the roof looking out into a great expanse of more roof tops and the mountains beyond. My friend, Isabelle, rented a room across the alley. The alley was narrow enough that we were able to pass the bowl of sugar between our windows when the other ran out. I met Isabelle in Jaipur, a Belgium girl sharing the same birthday as myself. Our initial meeting came in the form a 10 day silent meditation at a Vipassana Center. When we emerged from Vipassana we ended up sharing a room in a guest house together and did not stop talking for 3 days straight. Several months later, somehow by accident, we ended up in Kathmandu at the same time. Isabel, my sister. We were so much the same.

For many years our connection never waned and we kept a steady flow of letters between us--filled with our most heart-felt thoughts. And then our lives got busy. My life got swallowed by school. Isabel now has 2 growing babes. I know her restless spirit hungers to return to Katmandu as much as my own. Some days I feel it almost like a physical ache. Darjeeling tea sparks my desire to return and fills the space of my overworked days with a certain sweetness.

I have to admit that I'm at a cross roads. I don't even know what that means right now. I have just launched a new project and am excited to see it through. I have a second project in the wings and a half dozen inspirations sitting along side that as well. But this crossroads exists on another level--one that I cannot quite makes sense of just yet.

All I know is that I'm ready for a new beginning--on a cellular level. I feel the urge to get back to my roots. And by roots I mean that something that exists way down deep in my soul.

Namaste.
Here's to drinking good tea.

~

nothing but random wednesday morning thoughts...

2009-04-29T07:59:00.007-05:00

Get up early. Make a cup of coffee. Shoo Visoca, my ever-loving cat, off of my keyboard about a 100 times. Watch the sun disappear under a layer of clouds. Catch up on emails. Be happy for newly forming friendships.

I returned from my retreat late Monday night. I wasn't supposed to come home until Tuesday morning, but I already had too many wet paintings to precariously fit in an overfilled car with a big dog. I was thrown into Tuesday like a hurricane and questioned the sanity of my life. I mean, really, it is ridiculous. And yet...I think I thrive off of it just a little. Even so, I wish I could find something more of a happy medium. As an artist, how to make enough money that you don't have to work yourself inside out? This is the question.

I didn't have any major epiphanies while I was away, but I DID read a really good book. I DID feel a few lingering issues begin to lay themselves to rest. I DID pull a tarot card before embarking on my journey home and was told that peace, joy, and happiness would be mine and that my creative dreams would be successful. I DID drive a full 4 hours with just my thoughts...no radio, no internet, no phone--and it was blissful.

And now I am back in the middle of my life. I'm about to launch my next major project at a big event on Saturday. I'm finishing up commissioned work that has been on a waiting list for a long, long time. I'm preparing letters to sell in 2 boutiques. I'm putting together the material for a 2nd major project that I will be doing simultaneously with the first (this is where insanity steps in). AND I'm preparing for a big art fair in the first week of June, for which I have not even started getting ready for yet.

Yesterday I picked up dog poo, raked the yard, did the dishes, vacuumed, dusted and mopped the house, took a shower, sent emails, unloaded half of my studio out of my car, and walked the dogs...all before breakfast! Of course, these things weren't even on my list of things to do.

But wait a minute...I don't mean to write a post about how busy I am. Boring. I also am not interested in being told that I need to take a break--which, despite the retreat, I'm sure I still need (but it's hard to do with a stack of bills staring you in the face). My real thought is this: what does an artist need to do in order to do better than struggle to get by? If I read another Etsy Success Story about how someone works from the moment they get up until the wee hours of the night, I think I will cry. Well, ok, not really. And, of course, Etsy is only one of the things my creative business entails. But my point is this: there has to be a more sustainable way of living.

I am on a mission to find out how.

Namaste and good day to all of you.
xoxoxo

Images from my week:

2009-04-22T15:49:00.013-05:00

My Latest Obsession:

The beauty of broken down tennis balls.

My Latest Painting:

"Lola" :: 10"x20" :: Oil on Canvas
Loolla-lo-lo-lo-lo-la-lo-lla!

Our Middle Child:

Oh, my Louie. There has never been a more special dog.

And My Biggest Temptation to Take a Cat Nap:

Ella, the babe of our house.

Life is beautiful.
I am savoring the things that surround me.

night time thoughts.

2009-04-22T00:51:00.004-05:00

It's nearly 1 am and I'm working on a painting of a dachshund running with a toy shoe in its mouth. My pup is asleep, curled in an "O," snuggled deep in the sleeping bag I keep on the studio floor for late nights like this--not for me, but for the dogs. I'm never without the company of at least one.

I could work all night if it weren't for my back getting tired. Night time. I was reminded of its beauties while preparing for March's big exhibition. And earlier today I was reminded of the beauties of afternoon napping. I was weary and weepy and, after a fundraising luncheon for rescued service dogs, a bit overly emotional, too. The south sun created a warm glow in the living room, despite closed blinds. A cocoon. I laid down on one end of the couch, a dog on the other. Then the second dog jumped up and snuggled in close to the curve of my leg...which is when sleepiness took hold. The third dog was asleep in a warm puddle of sunshine at the side door. Comfort won out over the guilt of not working and, finally, I felt a necessary part of me relax.

Needing to tie up a few linguring details, I've delayed my painting retreat until Thursday--and am looking forward to it profusely. I'm happy for my decision to wait a day so that I might have a more relaxed start. If only I could bring the couch and the sun and all three dogs. But instead I will only take one dog, a lot of painting supplies, and a pile of blankets. Perhaps my journal and a book as well.

Today I dreamed that I went on a long journey... which is when I realized that I'm hungry for something...something that food does not fill...something that I will eventually find, given a bit of self-care and time.

10 stories.

2009-04-18T08:36:00.015-05:00

A new blog post would feel good. The last one was written too long ago. But what to say? How do I put language to my thoughts?

Last night I had a dream that I fell 10 stories down an elevator shaft. Upon being released from the broken wreck, my nose was deeply swollen, but other than that I guess you could say I was fine. It was in a nice hotel and I was on my way to a reception of sorts. I was with my mom and grandma. They made it out as if nothing even happened. And, now that I think about it, I realize that the last I had a dream that felt like this (about a bear), they were with me then also. At the party I wandered around miserable and sad partly because of my nose, but mostly for reasons much larger than I was even able to make sense of.

The night before last I dreamed that Vinny, myself, and an orphaned baby were swept down the currents of a muddy river in a distant country. After finding our way out of the river, I spent the rest of the night being pursued by whoever it was that was chasing us.

These days I feel a bit stressed and rootless. I also feel a lot inspiration and doubt, happiness and sadness. You know, the whole gammot. I like to think of this time in my life as a stage...one that I just need to allow myself to travel through. But where to begin writing? I pull the strings of thought and realize that each one is attached to much more than I am capable of taking on. Sometimes I suppose we just have to allow ourselves to sit and write nothing at all. Sometimes that is the only way back in.

I am lost in a 12"x22" painting of an old dog looking longingly through the glass door of an ice cream shop. I am obsessed with all the beautiful little details.
Today I'm joining a tele-group that offers business/financial support for creative types like moi (I'm nervous, but ready to give it a try).
Warm weather has finally arrived. I go outside to stand in the backyard many times during the day.
My wolfie girl, Anu, has started giving me more kisses than usual.
I am learning to ignore my weeds. That is, those thought tendrils that do nothing but bring me down. (thank you, Connie, for introducing me to this idea.)
Thinking about re-launching the Be Brave Project in June.
Getting ready to launch my next big art exhibition/animal rescue project in two weeks.
Attempting to learn the fine art of surrender.
Planning on taking a painting/work retreat in the northern woods of Minnesota this coming week. 5 days of just me, my wolfie, and a car-load of canvases.
Waiting for hope. It seems to come and go these days.

just cuz...

2009-03-27T21:37:00.016-05:00

Fuck it. I've decided to take a few hours off from paintings and work-related endeavors to fill my senses with inspiration. I find myself in need of some serious re-fueling. I wore myself inside out in preparation for this last show and, in the process, have landed myself in a pretty deep funk. Funks are to be expected after coming to the end of a major endeavor, but my wiser self has let me know all too clearly that, this time, I took it just a little too far.

Through Etsy I have recently made some incredibly wonderful new connections. One of them, Rebekah, is in the process of opening up a hand-made retail boutique here in Minneapolis. I love her willingness to allow her creative dreams to "ride shotgun instead of in the trunk."

Then there's C., the woman who recently commissioned me to create the words: "A beautiful ripple effect." As if those words aren't beautiful enough...it turns out that she is a living example of them. This year she is celebrating the 10th anniversary of CCC, a non-profit organization for young adult cancer survivors that she started when she was 14 years old! She reminds me that we are capable of anything we set our hearts to.

I've been feeling so wrapped up in paint brushes and to-do lists I think I sort of forgot that I exist in a world that stretches beyond my immidiate vision. Then I met Pey. Pey is as cool as her name sounds. Not to mention, her thought process is invigorating. She has two Etsys: Folk Art Vision and Peylu. We've been "convo-ing" back and forth with each other on Etsy the past couple weeks and, I swear, she's directly responsible for helping to get inspiration flowing in my veins once again.

Today I received a piece made by Pey and I can't wait to tack it up on my studio wall. Did I mention that I am in the process of revamping my office and am turning it into a fully functioning studio? Yes, it's time to leave the basement--for real this time. Pey's beautiful little creation will remind me to listen to my intuition a little bit better from now on. Our heart always knows what's best for us--always.

Anyway, I like the way Pey sees the world and I like the way she thinks. I made an excuse not to do something fun because of my long to-do list and, after telling her about it, she responeded with this:

"I have stuff from my last week's to do list still, I just carry over everyday...... that list isn't getting shorter....

Have to tell you this, I met a 9 year old rottie as Ted and I were coming back from the Park this morning, he was in really rough shape physically, the young girl, A., just rescued him 6 months ago and has already spent about 4 grand on vet bills. We sat and talked at the bottom of my front porch steps with Zen the dog. He was in a lot of pain. I got him some raw chicken necks, frozen liver and a slew of holistic remedies........ I also fed him an egg, was giving Ted one so had to be fair, showed A. how to give him pills with peanut butter. Zen gobbled down everything nicely including the pills and the homemade cookies. I hope his stomach can tolerate all the new food. A. is a dance teacher and hardly makes any money but she went ahead and adopted this old dog, how courageous. I wish I had my old design job or selling like crazy on Etsy so I can write her a huge check to help out.
I was really sad watching Zen limping away, of course, after all the treats, he didn't want to go..... so the moral of the story is, have fun when you can so we can balance out the not so fun moments in life." P.

This little note is what inspired me to say fuck it and take a lil' break tonight. A break is what I need. Writing this here, even if it is gibberish, is what I need. The past 2 months of my life have worn me inside out. Lately, I find myself asking the question: "If I could run away and do anything I want, what would I do?"

My answers go something like this:

I'd sit down somewhere, drink tea, and read.
I'd go to India to paint dogs, people, and random objects (and drink tea and read books).
I'd hop in the car and head for the great wide open and mountains of Montana.
I'd do what I do, but with more fun thrown in the middle.
I'd finish this studio and paint still-lives of tennis balls.
I'd go swimming.
I'd hang out with horses.
I'd join a band (not really, I just want to play an electric guitar like a rockstar).
I'd make random art in random places.
I'd go out to eat and enjoy something I've never tried before.
I'd play with my camera until I learned how to use it.
I'd hop on a freight train.
I'd go visit my friends in far-away places.

And so the next question is: "What can I do to make any one of those things happen?" The best part is that, given even just small amounts of action, none of it is as impossible as it seems. Long to-do list, or not.

Anyway, it was good sitting down to write. Dear blog, thanks for still being here. It feels good to have inspiring friends--new and old.

Be brave, be real, be nice to yourself.

lots of love,
j.

Feature Interview with Mod-Dog: Modern Art for Modern Pets!

2009-03-27T19:08:00.002-05:00

Interview announcements...better late than never, right? Whew!

I'm proud to announce that I was recently interviewed by Mod-Dog: Modern Art for Modern Pets. I can't sing enough praise for both Mod-Dog's beautiful work and incredible site! Mod-Dog is a go-to source for all things modern and wonderful. Please do check it out! Give your dog a bone, pour yourself a cup of tea, and snuggle in to read my interview on Mod-Dog's blog here.

Happy reading!

ps.
I promise to come back and write a nice juicy post one of these days soon. Really, I promise!

Dogs of Linden Hill's--Opening night! :: A celebration in images and song

2009-03-21T03:44:00.004-05:00

These past many weeks have held so much more than I could ever possibly capture in words. I've just finished creating my very first imovie--a celebration in images! The opening was over a week ago and I have not yet found the space of mind to sit down and write about it. It was a journey-and-a-half, to say the least. And now...well, now it is time to just plain celebrate.

The photos in this video were taken by the incredible Sarah of Sarah Beth Photography and my husband, Vinny. There are more words and pictures still to come--but, at the moment, it is nearly 4 am and time for this lil' chica to go to bed!

Here's to what has been accomplished. Here's to all that is to come.
Cheers to you, my friends!

May all dogs be happy!

~

Divine Inspiration...

2009-02-26T10:25:00.006-06:00

"Lou, the Singing Dog"
30"x40"
Oil on Canvas

I've been meaning to post a photo of some of the work that I've been swallowed by. For now, I offer you "Lou, the Singing Dog." It's different and perhaps better than anything I've ever painted before. I've finished 4 more large paintings since this one and will complete a 5th (and perhaps a 6th!) today. I try not to think about how much more I have to do. I've never had to sustain a feeling of "staying in the moment" for such a long period of time. I'll tell you, it is a discipline. Preparing for this show feels strangely spiritual. I have always felt deep emotions when I paint dogs, but this is different. This is something that exists beyond me. It's not about me, it's not even exactly about the dogs I'm painting. It's about how we experience the world. It's about being alive to the smallest moments, those nanoseconds that contain something of the entire universe.

"First Month"
20"x48"
Oil on Canvas

This particular time in my life feels immensely strange to me. Strange, that is, in a (generally) good way. Difficult too, but good. Maybe it is the long hours that I've been putting in, day after day, but this work feels a bit out-of-body.

Last night I also applied to two major art fairs. And right now I need to make a pot of coffee and head back down into the studio. I'm working on another big one. There are so many large paintings! I can't complain though. Painting big is what I love best.

I'm sending love to you, my blogging sisters. Although I'm unable to blog much right now, I am thinking about you with my whole heart!

with love,
jessie

a little pause...

2009-02-13T09:10:00.014-06:00

Well, my friends, it's true. I have to put my "WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time" project on temporary pause. I want to continue posting words, but as I prepare for the show, the biggest one that I have ever done, I simply just can't do it all. Taking photos, cropping, uploading, listing, and writing a post...yeah, it all takes time that I just don't have right now.

I will say, however, that even when I haven't posted a word, I have gotten in the habit of choosing a word each morning and really, really living with it inside of me. This project started out as a fun way to boost Etsy sales and get me back into blogging. I had no, absolutely no idea how integral it would become to my existence. I have lived and breathed every word I've posted and each word has helped me to move through my days just a little bit more gracefully.

So here's the thing...I hang my show on March 3rd. The opening is March 12th. I have a feeling that I am going to be in over my head until the very end. I am OK with this. I mean, I've been working 12-16 hour days in my studio at home and, in some strange way, am loving it. I don't know if it's my imagination, but my hands feel swollen from holding paintbrushes for so many hours straight. How's that for weird?

What I need more than anything right now is to just lose myself in this project. At the moment I am working simultaneously on 2 paintings. One is of a new mama asleep on her couch holding her sleeping newborn infant and her little pug perched in the bend of her legs, keeping watch over them. It is made up of deep colors and the purest forms of love. When put on its side, the painting is almost as tall as me. I'm also working on another large-scale painting of a musician and his singing dog, Lou. It is made up of moodiness and color and and howls that make me want to stretch my neck and face towards the sky. Then there's the stack of 20-some canvases stacked behind me still waiting to be filled with love and personality. I breathe because the only way to get this work done is to do it. I breathe and I ask myself: what do I need to get through this time? The answer is the same every day. I need to strip my life of everything that isn't absolutely necessary and just paint.

Between now and March 12th, please send me some creative and loving vibes. I'll be stopping by this space as time allows or when I need to feel like I'm actually connected to this world. I will be thinking about all my wonderful blogging friends and feeling grateful for your existence in my life.

Speaking of love and gratitude and connection...you must go visit Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio. Several weeks ago Connie started a radio show. Let me just say for the record that I am addicted to it. There is so much creativity in the air! I am very proud to be one of this week's sponsors. Connie and her guests keep me company in my studio while I paint. Their discussions are interesting and honest and I always feel like I've just sat down for a cup of coffee with a couple of really good artist friends. Seriously, her show keeps me feeling grounded.

Check out other Dirty Footprints Studio Talk sponsors via video...

Enjoy. Be inspired. Connect.

The word of the day project will be returning as soon as possible. In the meantime, there are plenty of words to choose from, but even better, I invite you to build the words that will most serve you. Let me know what word is whispering to your heart and I will be happy to make a reserved listing especially for you.

Wish me luck as I prepare for my upcoming exhibition: Dogs of Linden Hills.
And Happy Friday the 13th! :)

Namaste,
Jessie

*Beautiful paint brush image borrowed from ...and protest.

QUEEN--5 little letters to celebrate your inner diva

2009-02-10T13:08:00.006-06:00

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Meet Top Model Dog, Trixie...

Italian Greyhound extraordinaire
and (dare I say?)
QUEEN of Florida!

She is my most recent painting....the one that I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning putting the finishing touches on. She possesses more bling than I have ever known. Oh, but those jewels, that wink, and posture!

In honor of Trixie's portrait I dedicate today to celebrating the diva that lives inside each of us. I hereby announce you: DIVINE!

Trixie knows her inner Queen.
Do you?

"Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail.
Failure is another steppingstone to greatness." ~Oprah

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's word is QUEEN. Rule your own destiny.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

~

DON'T PANIC--9 little letters to help you keep your cool

2009-02-09T18:19:00.020-06:00

Today is brought to you by two very important words:

DON'T PANIC.

"Don’t panic, especially when things get bad. Remain focused. React to danger sooner, not later. Don’t listen to rumors, just deal with what you know. Stay indoors, stay informed and don’t leave unless you have to...Fighting will draw attention and slow you down, so don’t do it. Don’t panic, keep moving, drink lots of water and avoid people." ~Popular Mechanic Reader

My apologies for the sporadic "Word of the Day" posts. I was about to force myself into temporarily abandoning the project for the next few weeks...and then I realized how necessary these little words are to my sanity and survival.

I have to be honest here...I have more paintings to do in the next 3 weeks then I know what to do with. I am in full-on panic mode. I find it nearly impossible to function, much less breathe, unless I'm doing one thing: painting. What I'm noticing is that panic is a dangerous thing. It is debilitating. It distorts perspective. It's not getting me anywhere.

I got lost deep in the north woods once--and I panicked. You know that white-fear feeling? The feeling that races into your fingertips and the length of your body? The feeling that overwhelms you with instant confusion? A feeling of desperate peril? Yes, that feeling. Words to the wise: never panic. I got lucky and accidentally stumbled upon some hunters building a deer stand in the woods. It was getting late. I've never been so relieved to see people in my whole entire life.

Another time I got lost while kayaking in dense fog in the middle of a great big ice encrusted lake. It was nearly winter and the water was hypo-thermic temperatures--but it was so beautiful that I couldn't help but paddle just a little ways into the fog to see what it looked like. Mmmm...enchanting. But did you know that it is just about impossible to steer a kayak straight without a point of reference? Neither did I. When you turn to look behind you, it only makes it worse. I was found later that day by Search and Rescue, the fire department, and police department--as well as my dad and brother who were also dumb enough to go out in a canoe looking for me. I've never been more embarrassed in my whole life. That was waaaay more embarrassing than getting lost in the woods and even more embarrassing than the time I passed out at the front of the church in front of an entire congregation.

I also nearly got lost in the Himalayas during a 3 week trek. My group and I were coming down from a 17,000 foot pass and bad weather rolled in. There were avalanches all around us. Despite nearly impossible visibility and high altitude delirium, we kept our heads on straight, stayed together, and eventually found our way. Coming into a village never felt so good.

Ok...I'm starting to feel safer now. But my point? Never panic.

25 (mostly large, some very large) paintings isn't nearly as life-threatening as cold water, mountains, and bad weather. It's scary, but not life threatening. It only becomes life threatening when I forget to breathe. But this is what I mean when I mention distorted perspective.

I was going to put the "Word of the Day :: Living Life One Word at a Time" project on hold...but, as you can see, it has become a survival tool.

Seriously, people. This is about survival.

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's words are DON'T PANIC. Remember: Panic will get you nowhere.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

**shark attack image borrowed from Travel Nooks.

ASPIRE--5 little letters to remind you to never give up...

2009-02-07T13:03:00.010-06:00

This is an image that I have posted on my vision board.
I look at it every single day.
I love that little girl for the determination she possesses.

Today I took that image outside and hung it from the
big pine tree in my back yard.
It looks good there.

My word of the day is ASPIRE.

Today my head is full of ideas.
I write them into my little book.
The sky is the limit...
and I feel energized, excited.

This afternoon I have been invited to my niece's birthday party
to teach all of her 7 and 8 year old girlfriends how to paint dogs.
I feel honored.

When I turned 8 I wanted to be a Solid Gold Dancer
(watch this video, it will make you laugh),
a piano teacher, a veterinarian.
I climbed a lot of trees...
especially the apple trees along the garden that my mom grew.

Today's message: NEVER GIVE UP.

I believe in you.

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's word is ASPIRE. Go ahead, climb trees. Climb mountains. Succeed.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

~

DESIRE--6 little letters to fuel your inner fire

2009-02-06T08:05:00.015-06:00

Desire.

I want my world to open up. I want my life to include more. How is that even possible? All I know is that I have an insatiable desire to grow and learn and experience this existence to its absolute fullest.

Lately, I've been spending time hanging out with The Pioneer Woman--on her website, that is. After voicing a desire to start painting and spending time with horses, the wonderful Amber sent me there. Now I can't seem to pull myself away.

This morning I've been hanging out with all the horses. As I scrolled through one incredible photograph after another, I imagined myself standing in the middle of wild openness surrounded by the movement of horses and dogs. That's when it happened. Up came the sting of tears that tells me when I'm in the middle of something real and important. It probably sounds strange, but when I find a string of inner truth that pulls in the direction of my heart...my physical body reacts the same way every time: with tears. It's weird and amazing and I am grateful for this ever-consistent nod from the universe that says: "YES. This is it. Follow it."

These days I have been painting a lot. I wish I could find the words to describe what happens in the act of painting animals--specifically, right now, a dog named Roxy. I am pulled deeply into the center of myself. It makes my skin feel thin. The layers between myself and something that I cannot explain seem to disappear. In short, I feel connected. But the feeling is more ethereal than that. Words fail to describe whatever it is that happens.

When I paint, my desires become clear. I can feel them from the inside out and when this happens the creation of those desires begin to take form. It is the beginning, the knitting together of a new reality--even when I don't yet understand what or how or why, there is something in the center of it that I know and feel my soul being pulled towards.

These days I feel a bit like a caterpillar in chrysalis. I don't know that I'll emerge as a butterfly, but I do know that a transformation is in process. Leaving the partnership and studio knocked me off track...but in a strangely good way.

This past year I have spent a lot of time pushing to get my dream off the ground. I pushed my work, my self, my abilities, my levels of bravery, motivation, and determination. I pushed myself physically, mentally, spiritually, and creatively. Over and over again, I nudged myself well beyond what I thought I was capable of--and, in the process, I have built something out of nothing.

But right now I don't want to push. Right now I just want to give myself over to the work at hand. I want to dive into it deeply--and I want to dream. But please note, this dream space is by no means a passive environment. It is fueled by something akin to fire. The caterpillar cloisters itself in the chrysalis because every last ounce of its energy goes into the manifestation of desire, into the creative/creation process of transformation. My chrysalis is made of paintings.

And, in this process, I am finding what has been waiting for me all along...

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's word is DESIRE. Live your desire. Be your passion.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

HOPE--4 little letters that hold the power to change everything

2009-02-04T23:20:00.010-06:00

In the words of Obama:
"We have chosen HOPE over fear."

Live hope.
Believe in hope.
BE hope.

In the words of my uncle:
"There is always hope."

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's word is HOPE.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

~

MUSE--4 little letters to get your creative blood pumping

2009-02-03T08:08:00.009-06:00

I dedicate today to my inner muse.

My list of things-to-do has grown out of proportion. These days, I feel as though I'm in over my head. I spent a lot of time and energy yesterday being stressed out about what the next 4 weeks of my life will entail.

Have I mentioned that I have almost 30 commissions to complete in the next month? Er, um....yeah. This is for a big project that I have been promoting and preparing for since July. The pressure is on! I will say, however, that no matter how many paintings I have to do, I always give myself completely to each and every one--and I want it to stay that way.

Last night before going to bed I decided that I can either continue to be completely stressed out and make my life hell (like I did yesterday) OR I can just hand myself over to the inner muse and simply enjoy diving deeply into the work ahead. Yesterday I worked on a painting for a top model dog named Trixie. Trixie is an Italian Greyhound and probably one of the most refined looking canines I have ever painted. Her seductive expression (just wait until I'm done with that winking eye), rhinestones, and print background has been like little candy treats for my muse. The detailing is a bit obsessive, and yet that is just the sort of thing that feels good right now.

Today I will continue working on Trixie. I will stretch canvases and begin sketching out more portraits. I'm not going to worry about life's other details. For now, I'm going to simply focus on the small picture, not the big one (the big one is too overwhelming). I'm going to continue breathing and smiling and listening to music. I'm going to drink chai and paint myself into a patterned ecstasy.

Today I am inviting a friend to join me in my studio.
Her name is: My Inner Muse.

She is really happy with me for finally noticing her. The poor girl has been neglected due to my incessant stressing, migraine fighting, and running around. I didn't realize how much I missed her, but it's nice to have her back. However, just now, she has just informed me that she would like a better name. I'll let you know what we come up with. In the meantime, who is your inner muse? What is she like? And does she have a name? Tell me about her. I want to know. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if our inner muses already know one another!

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's word is MUSE. Invite your inner muse to play!
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

~

BREATHE--7 little letters guaranteed to get you through anything

2009-02-02T09:48:00.002-06:00

Guaranteed: Breathing will make you feel better.

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's word is: BREATHE.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

~

LET GO--two little words that celebrate the art of living in the present moment.

2009-01-31T12:36:00.021-06:00

Today's "Word of the Day" is big enough to include two words and they are: let go.

I've been trying to figure out how to write this post for quite awhile now. Nearly 2 weeks ago, I backed out of the business partnership. This past Monday it was made official. And, as of today, I have also moved out of that big, beautiful studio space that I only recently moved into.

There is a part of me that wants to scream, WTF(?!?!) into the bright blue sky. There is a part of me that wants to explain everything. But it's not worth it. Nor would it be respectful, since all of this involves another person.

At first, there was a part of me that felt like the Universe had just played some kind of sick joke on me. I have dreamed of a space like this for as long as I can remember. For two months, I put my heart and soul into getting the space ready and into all the plans that it included. Then I enjoyed it for barely 2 weeks. There is a part of me that is incredibly mad at myself for investing so much time, planning, labor, and dreams into something that was never meant to be.

There is another part of me that feels grateful that the Universe saved me from getting deeper into something that could have become much messier down the road.

There was a part of me that thought I needed that space in order to grow. There is another part of me that realizes that, because of that space and the experiences attached to it, I have already grown. Having a big, fancy, "proper" studio space does not make me more of an artist. It does not guarantee success. It does not make me a better person.

There is a part of me that feels stupid and embarrassed for getting into this situation in the first place. There is another part of me that is grateful for what this experience is teaching me.

Lesson #1: Always listen to your gut. Oh, how cliche! But it's funny how your gut always knows...usually waaaay before you're willing to admit it to yourself.
Lesson #2: I am capable of much more than I was giving myself credit for. I hate to admit that there was a part of me that went into partnership because I lacked enough self-confidence to believe that I could be successful on my own.
Lesson #3: Negativity, holding grudges, playing the victim, and moving through life with a chip on your shoulder will get you no where. I would prefer to move forward with an attitude of open-heartedness, joy, and love. That is, after all, what the core of my work as an artist is all about. You know the saying: "Energy flows where attention goes"? Well, I want my energy to go in positive directions. That means only one thing: that I must allow myself to let go, let go, let go, let go.... this has become my chant.

I couldn't agree with Olivia more when she writes, "it is really exciting for me to read about and see women courageous enough to make so-called "mistakes" and then just keep right on going. Let's face it, lots of people share their successes, which are indeed inspiring. But to share your mistakes and then to work to turn them into something that does fit in a beautiful way---that's even more inspiring to me." I can't thank Olivia enough for those words. I read them at just the right time.

A few nights ago, I went downstairs to paint, but was instead drawn to the journal I got in celebration of The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women. There was a photo of my studio laying on my workbench. Impulsively, I glued it to the page. Then I wrote the words: "Goodbye beautiful Studio. You were never mine. Be well." This made me sad. I knew that no matter how many years might pass, if I opened up the journal to that page, I would probably feel a sharp pang of loss. The journal is still relatively new and I hated to put something in it that would make me feel so bad. And so I kept adding. I added an image of a road, a window, wildly blooming flowers, a butterfly, and words that speak to this journey.

By the time I was done, I felt transformed. Oh, the healing power of art. It will never cease to amaze me. Flipping through the pages of a magazine I saw the words "Leap of Faith." It was for an article about sky diving. The words felt good. I mean really good. They felt like the next chapter of my life and so I pasted it at the top of the next page.

This is the place where I begin again.

I admit, I even love the mess that surrounds it.

One of the best things to come out of an otherwise shitty situation is that is has given me an opportunity to reassess and get clear about my goals. This is an opportunity to stop and listen to the whispers of my heart. I'm learning that there's something to be said for the unexpected gifts that flexibility can bring.

What it boils down to is this: I made a mistake. I made a very big mistake--one that I am tempted to regret. And yet, I don't want to regret this.

Today I am letting go of what wasn't working. I am letting go of a vision that wants to take a different path. I am letting go in order to let something better in.

Even though I only worked in that studio space for a couple weeks, I enjoyed it beyond measure. It made me want to dance and sing. It showed me that anything is possible. My friendship and brief partnership was a nudge that helped me to learn how to dream bigger. I have a feeling that the space and the dreams that it held will always hold a profoundly important place in my heart.

But today is the next stage of the journey. Today I am starting over. Today I am grateful for what was because it is leading me to what is next. Upon waking this morning, my life looked like this:

To let go is to celebrate the deep art of living in the present.

The benefits of working from home are countless. Despite losses, despite messiness--I am grateful for all of it.

These letters are part of an ongoing project:
"WORD OF THE DAY :: living life one word at a time."
Today's words are LET GO. Be here now.
See more letters and words at my Patch of Sky Etsy shop, here.

~