Spring is Springing.

Oh, thank goodness! The gloomy days of The Pacific Northwest were not made for this sun-loving girl.  I am clearly much more productive when the sun is shining. However, the bright green buds, making their way out of those pokey branches sure does stir the soul. Every time I walk by the white crocus' on the corner, or the lilac tree out my window, I am reminded that even the sleepiest of seasons will end. Light will break forth, bulbs will shoot up from the ground and hope will abound, even in this dark heart. Over the last few years, I have been walking around with a suitcase full of hopelessness. Not sure why I insisted on dragging it along with me all of this time, but the new light of the season has helped me to put it down. I find hope in the longer days, the flowers and leaves defying gravity to push upward is very inspiring. To the Sun, I say, To the Sun!

Doorways

I haven't opened a lot of doors lately. To be honest, I have been afraid. I have been afraid to make friends, afraid to see old friends, lots of fear up in these parts. But, just as Spring is poking out her pretty little head, I think I am less afraid. Less afraid to remember that being happy belongs to me and while traumatic events have transpired, I still control my own actions. It doesn't mean that I am not afraid. Nor would I want to be, but I am walking through a new door, I can't wait to see where it leads. 

I just rented a space here. It was kind of out of the blue, I was hoping to sell some of the treasures I have happened upon. Instead, I was offered a small space to sell them myself. Thanks, Universe! I didn't even see that one coming. Xo.

Heart Forces

I am 45 and a half years old. It is funny how time passes and here we are. Ages that seemed so foreign when I was 10. 25, 30, 40, 70. Some of those ages seemed like different planets from my youthful vantage point. I remember calculating that I would be 32 in the year 2000. It seemed like a future I could not imagine. Would I even be alive? But 32 has come and gone. I was alive. I was living, raising young children, training to be a Waldorf teacher. It was pleasant and full, 32. The trouble I am having right now, at 45, is why has it taken me so long to love myself? Truly love myself for all of my shortcomings, my mistakes, my triumphs? My husband gets frustrated with me that I am never satisfied with my good work, that I seem surprised when I excel. Shit, you got me. I don't know. 

I just recently decided to speak more kindly to myself. Really sweetly, like you would speak to a pudgy handed toddler. Patient, full of love and fully honoring kind of speech. It feels good. It motivates me to do things I have been putting off. It inspires me to look more softly at my reflection in the mirror. It is easier than I thought it would be, I would dare say I wish I had not waited so long, but that wouldn't be very nice...Xo.

The Future

I taught a group of children for seven and a half years. They are all remarkable, every one. They are artists and poets, musicians and scientists, thespians and athletes. They see the world as an unlimited place. They are all preparing to go to university next year. They are applying to schools like Oberlin and Yale, Julliard and Northwestern. I am amazed and proud and I see they have grown into deep, soulful young adults. This weekend, I read a piece in The New York Times by one of my former students. I am humbled by what they will all bring to this world. I am so grateful to have been a part of this magic. One of my students sent me this a few years back. I found it while cleaning my email. I am so glad I did. 

"I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself

      become the wounded person."

"Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept

       Time absolutely."

"I exist as I am, that is enough."

"I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the 

        beginning and the end,

But I do not talk of the beginning or the end."

"Here, take this gift,

I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or general,

One who should serve the good old cause, the great idea,

     the progress and freedom of the race,

Some brave confronter of despots, some daring rebel;

But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you just as

     much as to any."

                 -Walt Whitman 

                          Song of Myself

                          To a Certain Cantatrice 

I Choose

Oh, what a bit of sun does for the soul.

There have been lots of things happening this winter. CT Scans, MRIs and weird blood. Waiting. So much waiting. And Googling. Very bad, the Googling. There has been a lot of reflection, and even some regret. There has been reading of Caroline Myss, Louise Hay, Marianne Williamson. In the reading of these books there has been pain, unwillingness to let go, sadness and guilt. Then, there was release. There was the willingness to let go, ability to forgive and to forget, remembering and then releasing. Not tons and I know there is more and that this, my friends, is a daily practice. But for now, I choose to be happier. 

Oh, and I get to do this with wee ones. I am so lucky.

Going And Staying Green

Green

What I do know is that depression is real. In my case, it went so deep, somedays it paralyzed me completely. Really. I am not exaggerating for dramatic effect. This dark time can now be counted in years. 

Yes, traumatic events happen. Traumatic events happen to everyone. Why it did this to me is a part of the problem. I let it. I believed it with all of my heart and soul. I believed I was overrated and deserved to be brought down. I believed I was unnecessary, replaceable. As a result, I retreated until I did not even recognize me anymore. 

I am done with it. I know what is good for me but I walked away from my responsibility to care for myself. I have to take this back into my own hands and heart. 

You see? I have a tremendous amount of talent in many areas. I do. It is true. I can sew without a pattern. I can throw ceramic pots. I can bake really good things to eat. I can decorate wedding cakes. Or any kind of cakes. I can cook a six course Indian feast in three hours. I can paint. I can make things grow. I can teach. I can be a generous friend. This is just the tip of the iceberg. 

So, I am taking on all of this awesomeness I possess and I am turning it back on myself. I am going to drink a green drink every day because I feel good when I do it. I am going to do a little yoga everyday, because I can. I am lucky to have a body that moves. I am going to use it. I am going to walk every day. Even. When. It. Rains. In Portland that is a lot, but I am not going to melt. I am going to make, make, make all of the great things I can make with my hands. 

This is my time. And I am going to share it with you.

Portland Is Mossy

The Rains Grow The Moss

Yes. It is true. This time of year, Portland, Oregon is really mossy. I think I even have a bit of moss growing behind my ears. I must admit, the move here to the great Pacific Northwest has been a challenge for this sun loving girl. I have been having a really hard time fitting in and finding friends. Not one. I have not found one friend in three years. Something is wrong. Or maybe we came here for My Great Hibernation? Who knows, but I am tired of being so sad about it. I am tired of mourning my life in Los Angeles and the loss of so many relationships I thought would last my lifetime. Yes, I am glad I am not friends with people who did mean things. Of course I am. It does not change how lonely I  have been or how the low, thick, grey clouds want me to scream at the sky, "Back the hell off, you low, thick grey sky. Just back off." I do say it sometimes when I am driving on one of the twelve bridges in this town, you are elevated, thus closer to said low hanging clouds!

I even abandoned this spot after it brought me so much love and encouragement. It was tainted. Lawyers were reading this blog for three years. They would print out pages and pages of this blog and bring them to court, trying to prove I was fine. That getting hurt on the job, then shunned by an entire school and community and left without any career prospects would leave me just fine. I wasn't fine. I am trying to be fine now, but it has been a long time of NOT fine. Recently, I have been approached by some serious health scares, you know, the kind that end in a really scary way? Well, those kind of health scares. So I have been very quiet. 

But it is time. Time to take my awesomeness back. I was kind of amazing back in the day, productive, busy, inspired, full of life forces. So without further ado, this space is now declared as the place where I show all of the awesome things I am able to do!

Here are two things I am doing...

Alberta Art Classes

 I started painting full time, here is what I am up to on Etsy!

Alberta Hen House

Be well, friends and do good work.

I Am Back

Coconut Pouchong and Grimm's Fairy Tales

I was trying many new types of blog sites and although I have a new blog for my business...I have fond feelings for this space. So I think I will stay.

I have been avoiding this space because it was built from trauma. Now, as I find a place for that hurt, I can come back with new eyes and full heart.

Welcome back, me...and you.