AquaMaureen

Room to Grow

2011-08-18T20:30:00.002-06:00

Over the past several years, this tree has grown from a spindly random sprout into a giant, towering over my home. Countless hours have been spent in its shade, semi-secluded from neighbors, thinking, writing, reading, laughing, praying, crying, eating, wondering.

A few springs ago, I woke to a freak May snowstorm that had dumped a foot of heavy wet snow over everything newly green. My dear tree, my shelter from life's storms, had split down the middle.

A tree-fixer person gave me a plan to save it, which a friend executed. This tree has done much for me over the past several years as I've been learning to live alone. I will do much for it in return, to help it survive its own battles with whatever would threaten its existence.

This afternoon, I got out my saw and removed chunks of the 18-year-old bench that had been installed a decade before this tree even dreamed of sprouting. Two other times I'd taken a sliver out of the bench, but recent growth had the tree beginning to dislodge the planks. As my saw bit through the final inch of lumber,

I swear I heard the tree sigh in relief.

My tree taught me that sometimes things need to be cut away, in order to give room to grow.

What in your life is squeezing too tightly?

Still More Joy

2011-08-02T09:55:00.001-06:00

The power behind these words steadies me:

Don't postpone joy

until you have learned all your lessons.

Joy is your lesson.

~Alan Cohen *

I'm home now, after five days away--five days overflowing with God's transformative teaching. I'm unsure where to start this day, what task to put my hand to. How do I allow what I've learned this past week to inform my daily life?

Still unsure, I listen. And listen some more.

Gratitude bubbles up for the beauty immediately surrounding me.

And I turn to this poem by Violet Ker Seymer, #16 in the Christian Science Hymnal:

As sings the mountain stream, Past rock and verdure wild,

So let me sing my way to Thee, Thy pure and happy child.

O boundless source of might, My praise must e'er increase,

For Love is Life eternally, Whose blessings never cease.

I sing my way to-day, My heart is joyous, free,

For what is Thine is ever mine, I find myself in Thee.

And I do find blessing. Peace. The courage to take one step forward, into this day.

* for a ridiculously wonderful overflow of joy, visit PersistentGreen.com

Joy, Freely Given

2011-07-26T17:11:00.000-06:00

Today I dedicate this blog post to a fellow artist whose generosity of spirit overwhelms me.

Amanda, persistentgreen.blogspot.com, has long been a source of inspiration to me. Her commitment to a vibrant, juicy, artistic life spurs me to aim for the same.

On Amanda's blog for today, persistentgreen.blogspot.com, she has launched her first e-book and wonder of wonders, is offering it as a gift. Wow.

My copy is already downloaded and printed out and displayed, eye level, at the nexus of my home.

I plan to change the pictures often, as the spirit moves me. In fact, as I was taking these pictures, I switched out the pages--look closely and you can tell!

Already, after only a few hours of walking past these vibrant pages, the level of joyful expectancy bubbling in me has risen markedly. I am finding joy everywhere, even on the sticky wrapper from a recently slurped down waffle cone :)

Amanda, sister artist, lovely human being, fellow child of God--I salute you. And I thank you.

Fresh Start

2011-06-29T10:53:00.000-06:00

Hello, dear ones.

This spring for me has been juicyfull with growth and new beginnings. I do so hope you have been having the same. Don't get me wrong: a lot of that growing has felt like the hacking of a hoe as it breaks up winterhard ground. Given a choice, I would have wanted to decline, except for the knowledge, hard won, that prepared ground receives seed far more easily.

During the past couple of weeks, I've been away at a Bible study conference in California. Deep diving into the Book of Books, at Asilomar ("refuge by the sea") on the Big Sur coast . . . for me, it doesn't get much better than that.

I've been home a handful of days now, spirit-saturated with an overflowing of gifts from the Divine: peace, direction, possibility, wonder, gratitude, hope, and so much more that dances just beyond the reach of words.

I'll let these images of the vision board I made yesterday speak to what I'm feeling. If the text is too small to read, try clicking on the image--that should enlarge it. [Nope, I just tried clicking and nothing happened. I'll add the text.] [Ah . . a lesson in dropping perfectionism--the first image was supposed to be last, but it got jigglebumped into the first spot, and I can't move it. Okay. I surrender. Happily.]

that big pink "empty" spot insisted on remaining "empty"

(the whole picture)

Something beautiful is happening.

Rediscover

. . . you owe it to yourself to experience

a true breakthrough

effortless and fluid

as if lit from within

emerge

lean into the mirror and say . . . wow

Dear fellow journeyers: may you feel God's tender touch today. Share with me, if you like.

Feeling Hopeful

2011-06-06T02:06:00.000-06:00

It's 2:00 a.m.

Yep, I shoulda been in bed hours ago.

Instead, I'm here, paying tribute to beauty . . .

. . . to having survived a bitter long winter of the soul . . .

. . . to feeling the uncomfortable yet exceedingly welcome itch of new growth.

May you, too, experience the unutterable joy of having your heart come back to life.

I'm Back

2011-06-02T22:09:00.000-06:00

Tonight's eastern sky, just before sunset.

I have no idea why so many weeks have elapsed between my last post and now. Or why, tonight, at 10 minutes after 10pm, I am suddenly here, writing. But here I am. I'm tired and ready for bed, and yet parts of my heart feel as sweetly fresh as this soon-to-be-blossoming lily, dressed in morning dew.

I feel as though I have been "in transition" forever and a day. Sometimes I honestly wonder if I will ever make it beyond transition. Will I ever grow to the point where old hurts are mainly healed? Will I ever manage to do much more than survive emotional crap?

Then I remember my new gratitude journal which gets written in multiple times a day. I remember the sharp sweetness of praying for friends in need these past weeks. I remember holy times of stillness recently when I have listened long enough, and deep enough, to feel God's presence so strongly I can almost touch it.

This, then, is enough. More than enough.

P.S. I've said it before, but will repeat it: it means a great deal to me when people leave comments. You don't need to say much. Just a "Hi there" means a lot. :)

"He knows the angels . . . "

2011-04-12T11:40:00.000-06:00

"He [God] knows the angels that you need,

and sends them to your side,

to comfort, guard, and guide.

These words from a favorite hymn capture the feeling of how God met me right where I was a couple days ago, and showed me quite vividly what an incredible tool He has given me, in the form of artistic expression.

Sunday afternoon I found myself swamped by some unsettling thoughts. I knew I had to l eave for house church that evening in less than an hour, but I couldn't see how I could pull myself together in time. Right as I reached out in wordless prayer, I heard, "do something arty." Before I had much time to process that, I called my sweet daughter/friend/fellow artist and really wasn't surprised to hear her echo that thought, "Why don't you work on this week's prompt for ThursdaySweetTreat?" The next 30 minutes were amazing.

My hands felt as though they were moving of their own accord, but I know it was the me deep inside, responding to the great Creator, the great Artist. I kneeled on the floor and taped out a message.

Then came drips and drabs of the two colors in my nickname: AquaMaureen. Then came blowing through a straw and the pure fun of seeing how different puffs of air and wiggling the straw to semi-direct the flow made magic happen.

Then the peeling away of the tape.

Ah . . . by me just being me, the me God made me to be, joy is exposed. Joy shows itself to lie underneath all of my life. Joy tells me that God, divine Love, is everpresent.

The alarm goes off--time for church--time to wash my hands and leave my little spot on the floor . . . let the paint dry, but take the newborn joy and sweet serenity with me. Thank You, God of all good, for showing me these ways of turning to You when my world seems upside-down. Thank You for showing me my world in all its upside-up beauty and glory.

Eyes to see

2011-03-28T10:10:00.000-06:00

This gangly geranium is SO me! All the life and color and joy in me, pressed against the window of winter and wondering if I just imagined last week's warmth.

My little garden buddy says, "No, you didn't imagine sitting on the deck last week, taking a sun bath. But neither are you imagining this fresh layer of snow. Be patient, my friend . . . this snow will melt and water all that is busy underground, gathering strength."

If I close my eyes, look with my heart, I can see this brave tuft of grass spreading all over the front yard, waving in sunshine.

I can see water in this pond shooting skyward, sparkling in the light.

I can see this blade of green at the base of a shockingly red tulip, opening up to show its yellow and black center.

Ah . . . see how the heat generated by this insistent growth is already melting the snow. This tiny field of daffodils can already see itself laughing in the wind.

And here come our newcomers . . . transplanted hybrid iris from a friend's yard last year. I once cut a bouquet of them while they lived in her yard that was so magnificently tall and gorgeous that it kept tipping the vase over. How will they do in MY yard? Will they be shy their first year? or will I see what I remember them to be: waist high, with stalks like broomsticks, and blooms of lavender/blue beauty bigger than my hand?

My eyes are open again, and yes, I see yesterday's snow and today's heavy obscuring fog. But I can also see, from deep within, the beauty about to blossom. I just have to know where to look.

Yes, YES, Y. E. S. !!

2011-03-18T12:01:00.000-06:00

Like so many, I've trudged through a long winter this year. Snow and ice have brought their own unique beauty, but my heart has longed for nourishing warmth, for the freedom to be outdoors without the confinement of coats, mufflers, boots, and gloves. Like this scraggly persistent geranium, I too lean toward the light and press my face against the glass.

I can get so mired in my own difficulties. To offset that, I pray daily, often hourly, for God to keep my heart and soul tender towards others and their journeys. I ask God to help me fulfill what Jesus presented as the two great commandments: to love God with all our heart and soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves.

The people in Haiti. In Japan. A friend whose husband and life-long dance partner just passed away. A mother who cares for grandchildren because their daddy--her son--is in prison. I ask God to help me pray for all these people. And I ask Him to help me have the courage to do whatever it takes to see healing in my own life, to keep hope alive when progress seems measured in 100 steps forward and 99 steps back. Help me, God, to cherish that one step forward.

God answered those prayers this morning by nudging me out the front door, to inspect my gardens. Here, after just a little elbow grease (well, maybe more than just a little), fresh flowing water will sparkle and bubble.

Here the sun has kept watch all through the winter and tells me to turn him around, so that he can bring a fresh smile.

Here, just out of sight underground, extravagantly fuchsia peonies are gathering themselves, ready to spring skyward and burst into glorious bloom.

Here, daffodils and tulips, lilies and irises, all quiver with new life and listen for their time to emerge.

And here, oh wonder of wonders, at the far end of the garden, in the spot nearest the sun, poised to get the most warmth and light of all, tiny blades of hope show their face and make me almost cry with joy.

Spring doesn't "begin" just when the growth shows. It lives inside us during any long winter of the soul, out of sight perhaps, but ever growing, through cycles of blossom and rest, renewal and flowering. We must never give up hope. Never give up believing. The day will arrive when the growth finally shows above ground and we can glory in the visible beauty. But until that day comes, the whole world needs us to keep believing. Believe in what we can't yet see, but what our heart tells us is still alive, still growing, deep inside us.

Winds of Change

2011-03-11T10:37:00.000-07:00

I'm one month into a three-month self-assigned project. It started on Valentine's Day, and will stretch to mid-May. In a nutshell, the task involves going through every box/tub/shelf in my house and sorting it all, with a core intention of discovering what is in each box.

As I expected, the work has been tumultuous, as I uncover all sorts of my writings, from published pieces to barely decipherable scribbles on faded paper scraps. Photos, travel plans, printed out emails, magazines, newspapers, all sorts of stuff deemed Very Important at one time, all "saved" in boxes and tubs, as I would change around the different rooms of the house, sleeping here and having an office there, and then later, switching all over again. All the expected shifting as a family of 5, homeschooled until college, grows within the home. And then all the unexpected shifting, as the children mature and leave, and then the husband leaves as well.

I've been in tremendous transition since spring of 2004, since I first began living alone. As it turns out, this project of mine, named the ButterFly project, is scheduled to end 7 years, almost to the day, that I became the sole inhabitant of this house.

One month into the project, a couple days ago, was my birthday. Daughter and son-in-law came by with a potted plant of spring beauty . . . . later in the day, I hit a huge emotional roadblock when I got some news. Right as I was shaking from overwhelming sobs, a friend came to my front door with homemade rolls and yet another plant of yet more liquid sunshine. Surrounded by such love, I was steady again by morning.

It has been a very very long 7 years. But oh, I see so much growth. And I feel such hope. I have absolutely no idea what life will be like once this house is purged of painful past, and is home to just me, living in the present. And honestly, the prospect scares me at times. As hurtful as much of my past has been, it is still what I know. But that huge unknown stretching before me is already inhabited by the God who has sustained me all of my life. And She has only good for me.

So here's to spring. To growth. To flowers--and lives--that glow with joy and possibility.

New Views

2011-03-05T21:16:00.000-07:00

What a lovely lunch I had the other day.

Shredded the last bits of a 22 lb turkey. Sliced some celery. Diced the last few sweet pickles. Sprinkled in some raspberry vinaigrette. Stirred in a little Miracle Whip. I've never eaten a fuchsia-tinged turkey salad before.

I perched on the end of the twin bed in my living room. It's serving as my sofa until I find a new one, one without memories. Sold the other one to my son.

After so many years in this house, I'm actually getting a different view out my beloved picture window.

I'm well into my 18th year of living in this house. That simple fact astounds me at times. I spent the first 17 years of my life in one house and then after that, I moved every year or two or three.

It's a whole new feeling to live in one "building" for that many years. Maybe not for other people, but definitely for me.

At one point, two grown-ups, three children, one dog and one cat lived here. One by one they all left except for me. And I labor every day to set this house free from sad memories, and let it be a place of fresh joy and vibrant life. That means a lot of physical work, clearing away outgrown items, repainting, pulling out old carpet.

But it also means fresh thought. New views. Seeing old rooms with new eyes. Using familiar objects for unfamiliar purposes.

Life can sparkle, can't it?

(P. S. Over to the right of this entry, you can click on the BearLodge emblem and see my new front page essay . . . )

Snow, snow, and more snow

2011-02-13T16:28:00.000-07:00

Like much of the US, I've been deep in snow and cold for quite a bit this winter. There's no point in complaining, since that won't bring warm days and green grass even one day or minute closer. But I did dream the other day.

A recent sunset drew me outdoors with my camera, even though I had to boot up and suit up against the bitter cold. I mince my way down the driveway, which was packed with icy residue of countless snow and ice storms, and look back at my house. I remember why I painted that sassy sun several years ago, so that I could have sunshine, no matter how cold or dark the day.

Around back, the setting sun catches the hilltop across the highway.

Just to the left of center, can you see the picnic table and chairs? That's next to my creek (other people call it an irrigation ditch)--one of my favorite places in the summer.

And what looks like a double garage is actually where I dream of having an art studio. I also dream of painting a tropical scene on the outside, there to the left . . . but I haven't braved it yet . . concerned about neighbors' reactions . .

If I turn around, I can look in my bedroom window, up there above the single garage.

And there hangs the demon drainpipe, which the roofers forgot to re-attach . . . and which smacks and bangs with disturbing irregularity in a windstorm, which occurs all too often this stormy winter. Three phone calls to the company have elicited an "I'll swing by and fix that" promise, with no action attached as yet.

Yep, that furniture is right where I left it, after our last campfire and barbecue, last fall. The night was so lovely that I couldn't bear to take our food inside as we'd planned. We ended up eating at that table (snow-covered now), lit by a dozen candles.

Just down below are the stumps I'll have to figure out how to remove. I had two lovely trees growing in my back yard, but unfortunately, they were also growing kinda-sorta in and out of the house foundation. Last summer, a son and son-in-law and daughter tackled the trees, with just a hand saw, and got most of them sawed into chunks we could burn in my little fire pit.

I wander around front to the porch as the sun sinks out of sight. I'm warmed by memories of spring days and summer nights, of floating in my little backyard pool, of flowers and grass to cut, my creek to sit by, of meals cooked outdoors, of laughter with my children, with friends.

Snow still covers the ground, and will for weeks to come. But sweet and lovely warm times lie just underneath, sleeping, waiting.

I send out a silent welcome.

How Sweetly . . .

2011-01-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

"How sweetly this day nourishes and inspires."

That's the quote for today on my daily calendar. And here's the picture that accompanies, both art and words courtesy of the artist Robin Pickens.

Isn't that just a luscious image? And don't her words leave you feeling thoroughly hugged? I hope so, since that's the effect they have on me--as though the Creator of this one-of-a-kind day has handed me (Her one-of-a-kind Maureen) a gift (which She has), and I've just unwrapped it and am in the midst of a happy sigh of acceptance and gratitude.

Perhaps somewhere in the world, right now, people are experiencing temperature warmth and garden beauty, as hinted at in that calendar artwork pictured above. For me, I'm standing at my front door in my jammies, shivering, taking some pictures. Here's a view of down the street and up onto Crow Peak, my personal mountain.

Slightly to the left, here's a view of where I sit when weather allows, under my willow.

The chair I curl up in is around the corner, blown there by the last winter storm, or two, or three. The chair pillow is up and over the deck, buried in the last snowfall, or two, or three. Right near my knees is the outdoor thermometer, proclaiming 9 degrees at mid morning, and the high today is supposed to still be in the single digits.

And if I turn just slightly more to my left, here's a current view of my living room.

Yes, Virginia, while there may be a Santa Claus, there are definitely NOT Christmas elves who come along after and clean up all your gift-making mess while you sleep. And yes, folks, I am well aware that it is over two weeks since Christmas. And perhaps by someone else's definition, any self-respecting person would most certainly have restored order to their home by now.

Yeah. Well. To that I say . . . (I can't spell out the sound for blowing raspberries so I'll have to substitute.) . . . phooey. My last two weeks, which from a calendar point-of-view bridged last year and this new year, have been wonderfully full of spiritual growth (see previous post). God has taken me on some incredible journeys of the soul, which haven't left much time for much else. And believe me, if you ask me to choose between traveling with God, and cleaning up my house, it takes less than a heartbeat to decide to grab His hand and hold on for the ride.

Here's one joyful benefit that I'm finding comes from standing ready, each moment, to follow God: the other stuff gets taken care of, too. Last night I kinda reached a saturation point with the mess in the house. I had new projects to start, and my house wasn't functional for them, since it was covered (literally :)) with the aftermath of some wonderful Christmas holiday art/gift-making. Well, tonight is the time I have invited my kids over to "receive" one of their Christmas gifts from me: a pizza party. Handmade-to-order personal pan pizzas, some munchies, some desserts. Not our usual potluck gatherings, but all made by me, for them.

Since we will be gathering in the living room--yes, that room I just showed you a photo of--I will definitely be spending some time today not only baking and cooking, but tidying. So by tomorrow, I'll have memories of a lovely time with my kids, and I'll also have a home ready for new growth, fresh exploration.

I wish each of you a day overflowing with His grace and joy.

And if you feel so inclined, leave me a comment.

I truly love seeing evidence that you've visited my blog--that you and I

have "chatted" for a while.

I'm gonna close with what opened this post:

that warm and lovely,

tender and luscious photo and thought.

Hello, 2011

2011-01-09T00:45:00.000-07:00

It's almost 1am, and long past any sensible bedtime for me. So if you ask me why I'm staying up even later to post here, I'm not sure I could come up with an answer other than . . . . "because."

"Because? That's it?"

Yep, pretty much. I last posted early in December . . . had a dozen great ideas for posts since then, but none of them actually came to fruition. The end of last year, and the beginning of this new year, have been kind of smooshed full of emotion for me. A recent awareness of tremendous growth during 2010 has left me, at times, breathless with gratitude. But it has also left me sort of dizzy, if that makes any sense.

I've been sad for so long. Healing has been taking place over several years, but much of it has been like the bamboo plant, with growth underground, invisible. Now that tender green shoots are poking up here and there, I am glad beyond belief. But it's so different. Wonderful, but different.

Don't get me wrong. I still have mountains to climb just about every day. But I look around me. I touch the formerly broken and bruised parts of my life and the horrible pain is gone. Really gone. Faithful prayer over countless days and nights has brought me, inch by microscopic inch, finally to this place where I can see joy. Feel joy. Believe in joy.

As I mentioned, over these past few weeks some terrific ideas for "wonderful, inspiring" posts have flooded my thought, but not quite made it into print. So I'm not at all sure why I am writing NOW. Nothing unusual has happened to finally prompt me to post.

Except maybe this quiet, very quiet, whisper that is saying: Maureen, don't let one single more day go by without saying, in some public way, that your days of mourning are over. Really over.

Yep. That's it. That's the "because."

And as much as I adore having photos in my posts, I can't think of a single image that would be adequate to express whatever it is that I'm trying to say here. I can barely find words for it. As I said, I'm in unfamiliar territory now. The land of joy.

Unfamiliar, yes. But not for very long. Because this is my home now.

Honesty

2010-12-02T23:15:00.000-07:00

Warning: if anyone reading this post considers a certain level of emotional honesty to be unbearable oversharing, then you'd better leave now.

Okay. Here's a picture I painted a day or so ago. It reflects much of who I am right now.

And here's a snapshot of a plant I was given a day or so earlier. The sweet little poinsettia suffered a rude shock leaving the store and being carried to the car on a frightfully cold day. It barely survived those few moments of transition. This picture also reflects how I feel right now.

Over the past few years, I have found tremendous healing in acknowledging painful feelings. It's taken much hard work to find a balance between standing calmly in the feelings and allowing them light and air, versus wallowing in them and sometimes coming near to drowning.

I'm gonna see right now if I can move forward in one particular area of my life by bearing witness to some deep pain I'm feeling. This is not at all easy for me to do. Much shame attaches itself to these feelings. I hope that by being open here I can banish some of that shame.

My father dominated the first portion of my life. My husband put his mark on the next three and one-half decades. Another man affected the few years since the divorce.

My father was a pedophile and I was his six-year-old victim. There's no erasing what he did. But oh, how I wish he had chosen to repent of his actions and apologize to me before he died.

My husband and I each brought serious emotional baggage to our union, and then faced some sharp and painful experiences during the marriage. I used every resource at my disposal to save our marriage. I wish my husband had done the same. Maybe he would have still chosen to end our marriage, but maybe it would have been easier to live with. Easier to get over. Easier to move past. I wish he had not turned to other women during our marriage. I wish I had not been so easily replaced.

I met a man at the time of the divorce who was part of my life for the next three-plus years. He said often that he valued my faith, my sense of humor, my loyalty, my spirituality, my sensuality. Then one day, without warning, he dropped me. No contact at all. No explanation. Just silence. After several letters from me, he finally left a phone message saying he'd "met someone and was moving on with his life."

I am grateful beyond words for so many ways in which I have grown and matured over these past few years. I love my friends, my faith, my family, my home. And yet there remains a raw, ragged hole in my heart, created not just by the fact of these three failed relationships, but by how each of the three men chose to treat me.

I have had to be the one to end some relationships. In so doing, I summoned all the kindness and courage I could and tried to tell the person, gently, why I was doing what I was doing.

Breakups happen. I get that. And even though my particular faith experience fills me with confidence that "with God all things are possible," I also realize that some people do feel as if they have to give up. That the emotional mountain before them is just higher than they can climb.

But can't even giving up be done with some measure of grace? When you have tied yourself to another human being, and your giving up directly affects their life and stability, wouldn't it just be plain ordinary kindness to cushion the breaking up in any way possible?

For my dear friends who are reading this, please know that I am okay. Truly. I've made it this far and I sure as heck am not giving up now. My intimacy with my heavenly Father has grown deeper than I ever thought possible. My home is, bit by slow bit, experiencing a fresh and joyful transformation. Daily I ask God to show me ways I can reach out to others with compassion and kindness.

But my heart is healing far more slowly than I would wish for. I realize that the three men I have mentioned are only three--just a mere trio out of how many millions of men on the planet. But those three men have overshadowed every single year I've been alive on this earth. It isn't being single that is difficult. I'm adjusting to that. It's being left. Dumped. Cut off. Abandoned. Ignored. Forgotten. Unwanted. Replaced. Erased.

I know that each of these three men fought their own demons. They made bad choices. I just wish that even one of them had had the courage to take some measure of responsibility for how their choices affected other people, like me. I wish even one of them had cared enough to bandage the wounds they inflicted on me.

I'll close this post by sharing another floral friend. These geraniums lived outside one summer a few years ago until a hard frost threatened. I didn't mean to be rough, but I had to speed to get them out of the ground and inside, safe and warm. They responded by hanging on.

They are gangly and not terribly attractive, but oh, they bloom with a fierce persistence. Look at them, and you see me.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-30T19:09:00.001-07:00

What a joy, on Thanksgiving Day, to host the gathering at my home. Daughter Amanda and husband Jason, son Ben and wife Jodi, son Matt and roommate Dave, Great Aunt Marge and I all shared a precious afternoon and evening.

We didn't lack for desserts!

After the meal, we chatted and played games around the table.

But just a few days before, that same area was completely torn up and "under construction." Many times I wondered what in the world I was doing, ripping up carpet and scrubbing walls, so close to company time.

But the desire for reconstruction of my home was too powerful to deny, or, evidently, even to delay.

The deconstruction part was nitty and gritty.

Housecleaning has taken a back seat in my life the last few years (or longer!), but even I was surprised at the amount of dust (allright--let's call it what it was: DIRT!) uncovered.

Dust. Dirt. Whatever you want to call it, every speck had to be uncovered, faced, cleaned up.

Into the bucket went every bent, rusty nail. Every scrap of worn-out, shredded wood.

Every old and broken dream. Every abandoned and outgrown hope.

No shortcuts. No easy way. Just inch-by-inch, slow and steady. Out with the old, to make way for the new.

Deconstruction. Reconstruction. Not necessarily easy, but oh my . . . how healing. How good for the soul.

For all this, and more to come, I give thanks.

[this is the end of the post. For some reason, I have a h-u-g-e amount of black space before the post ends. Sorry about that. I'm at the limit of my knowledge of how to fix it.]

Once Again, Ouch

2010-11-02T23:47:00.000-06:00

Well, golly darn and gee whiz. I'm in Ouchland again. After my last post, I was intending for the next one to be upbeat. Jolly. Full of joy.

Oops. Didn't quite make it. That's why I put in this oh-so-lovely picture of the last bouquet of California poppies of the season. I'm trying to make myself smile. It's nearly impossible for me to be sad, when I look at these beauties.

Along with some hard work on my house, like ripping up carpet, moving heavy furniture . . . .

. . . and painting walls . . .

I'm also doing some renovation of the soul. Some reconstruction of the heart. And it's hard. I pricked my fingers on some carpet tacks earlier this evening. I can handle that. What really hurts is the follow-up email I just sent in which my bruised heart spoke.

In my half-century so far, I have not accumulated a very good track record with men. I do my best to give honesty and kindness, love and compassion. But so far, that sort of offering has pretty much backfired.

I won't give up. That's just not in me. But I do wish I could learn more of what I'm doing wrong.

In the meantime, I'll pull up some more nasty old carpet.

What are you working on in YOUR life?

Ouch

2010-10-27T00:05:00.000-06:00

I searched through my photos for a shot I was sure I'd taken a week or so ago. My gorgeous sunflowers had finally given up their last blossoms. The tangled brown mess of naked stalks and empty seedheads spoke of the end of a luxuriant growing season.

I was gonna post that here, to mirror the way my heart feels right now. Empty. Blossomless. Unbeautiful. But I can't find it. Maybe I just dreamed I took it.

And maybe I shouldn't be posting these thoughts. Maybe I should be digging deep for something inspirational. Usually, no matter what, I hang in there until I can see daylight. Hope. But not right now. Not tonight.

I had yet one more hearthurting time with a man tonight. I know that, the way I'm made, I am unable to do anything but keep my heart open to love. But that also means being open to hurt. And boy howdy, I've had a lot of that lately. Actually, for as long as I can remember.

No, I'm not giving up. I can't. Probably would if I could. But I can't. My faith in God, Love, is too deep and strong. I've learned from sad experience that a sore soul does heal.

I know that soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe even sooner, perhaps in the dark before dawn, I will feel the pulse of hope restarting my heart. I will review all there is to be grateful for. I will find something outside myself, something to do for someone else.

But for tonight, I hurt.

Come Walk with Me

2010-10-04T14:12:00.001-06:00

In my little neck of the woods, we are being blessed with a glorious fall. My sweet daughter Amanda and I have gone out several days this past week and just reveled in the softly warm temps, the angled light, and oh, the brilliant washes of color.

We walked down a road near her house, stopped on a street bisecting town, tramped along Mt. Roosevelt Trail near Deadwood, hiked in Spearfish Canyon, and wound our way past Iron Creek Lake, in the shadow of Crow Peak. Never were we more than 30 miles from my front door. All the beauty I'm about to share with you (and these 3 dozen snapshots came from 3 hundred I took) is that near, just waiting to be seen and appreciated.

I'm not gonna add any more details. In one photo, my house is in the distance, but it's no bigger in the photo than an ant's leg, so why point it out? And the only human in any of the shots is my sweet companion in adventure, Amanda, and you'll know who she is, precisely because I have just told you she is the only human you will see :)

So, come walk with me, and open your heart to incredible beauty.

Wow. Wasn't that something?? Doesn't God do GREAT work????

I'd love to see any photos any of you have of the beauty where YOU live . . .

Have a blessed day.

Oops . . .

2010-09-29T16:41:00.000-06:00

I made a boo-boo in my last post. I musta been so caught up in the joy of finally posting after a long four months away . . . or maybe I was carried away by delight in painting something new and fresh.

Anyhoo, what I forgot to do was to share that the artwork shown in Saturday's blogpost was inspired by one of my favorite artists, who just happens to also be my daughter. To see more of her vibrantly beautiful art, and to hear her honest/tender/wise insights on her thrice-weekly blogposts, visit her at http://www.persistentgreen.blogspot.com/.

A few days earlier, I had just returned home from several days out of town, and my sweet daughter had surprised me with a "welcome home" painting--a brand new kind of image she was trying. It so intrigued me that I wanted to play around with the same colors and techniques and materials. I had great fun, but ended up "copying" her work. That's not bad, in and of itself--that's actually one of the ways I learn best--but I neglected to cite her as my muse, my inspiration. And in my eagerness, I shared MY art on MY blog, before Amanda even had an opportunity to share HER work on HER blog. Oh dear. NOT good.

I humbly apologize. And I publicly give thanks to Amanda for the myriad ways she inspires me, not only in my art, but in life itself.

Welcome home, Maureen

2010-09-25T09:47:00.000-06:00

A new friend just asked me, "How come you haven't done your blog since May 7th?"

That's a question I've asked myself often these past few months. A few blogreaders have even said they've missed me.

Well, I've missed me, too.

And the answer to "Why?" has become clear after much introspection.

[pause here for a floral interlude]

The answer to "Why?" is . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . because.

Yep. That's the long and short of it: because.

I remember when my children were little and traveled frequently on avenues of wonderment and inquiry. These journeys of theirs often set off waves of questions that, in turn, triggered much wonderment inside me. Sometimes what I was thinking and feeling was so large and complex that I couldn't find a way to answer their questions except with a feeble "because."

(Hey . . . something just occurred to me: maybe they didn't want answers from me, so much as a companion on their wonder-full adventures . . . )

Anyway, this current question of why I haven't posted on my blog since May 7th has engendered the same overflow of feelings too big for words, at least for right now.

I went back yesterday and re-read my last post, from May. Honestly, (and hopefully without sounding as if I'm full of myself), I was pretty impressed with that entry. The woman writing it seemed pretty on target with her understanding of crossroads in life, and choices.

For now, what I CAN say, is that that woman made some choices these past few months, some pretty brave and messy and raw and beautiful choices. The road she took then, has led her to this place, now.

She will likely choose, at some point, to share some of her adventures in the Land of Because, because she wants to understand them better, and for her, sharing often brings clarity. Also, because those travels WERE brave and deserve to be honored.

But for now, thanks to encouragement from a very very VERY special fellow-journeyer, that woman is painting again, and can once again see sunlight, even on a cloudy day.

How are you doing, on your journey? I'd love to hear.

Loving what is

2010-05-07T08:24:00.000-06:00

I just rolled out of bed on this spring morning, May 7th, and here's the scene that greets me out my beloved picture window.

Now, here's another picture. I'm in the middle of a second, utterly fantastic, e-course (go click the button to the right to see what The Creative Playground is all about). I was asked to look out the window of my mind and dream and show at least a little of what I see.

Hmmmmmm . . . now, do any of you see a difference between what is framed in these two windows?????

Is it any WONDER that I dream of the second, while living with the reality of the first??

Now, all those obvious contrasts aside, when I rolled out of bed this morning, even before I saw the winter wonderland that a spring day in South Dakota has "gifted" me with, I got hit with a choice: complain or cheer. Love what is, or fuss about what is not.

Other fellow journeyers through this life have graced us with wonderful quotes (and I'm NOT gonna do research to get them word-perfect, or this post will never see the light of day.)

"When life hands you lemons, make lemonade." A-nony-moose?

"In the midst of winter, I found within me an invincible summer." Camus

"Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain." A-nony-moose.

Plenty of other people have been faced with current circumstances that they would gladly trade for something else. We all stand at crossroads, multiple times a day. The direction we take greatly influences HOW we feel and therefore ACT, as we continue down that chosen path.

Would I prefer a warm sunny day today? Yes.

Would I prefer not to continue to be plagued with residual difficulties from a divorce I never wanted? Yes.

Would I prefer that the current man in my life were the man of my dreams? Yes.

Would I prefer . . . (gonna stop here, 'cause the list SEEMS endless!!)

Instead, I choose:

--to laugh at the silliness of snow in May; at snow covering a yard half-mowed; at a dirty-laundry basket filled with just-worn capris and tank tops, while I search for clothes warm enough to wear today.

--to say a sincere "thank you" for the prompting I received from the divorce lawyers, which "forces" me to review my finances and see if I can live on less.

--to stop ruminating over why he hasn't called and just pick up the phone and tell him I need to hear from him.

Right here, right now, is the only real moment. I can ruin it with the disappointment that bleeds from the brokenness of unmet expectations. Or, I can choose delight and laughter. I can choose tenderness and love, independent of current circumstances. I'll state the ridiculously obvious: I cannot change the snow. I cannot change what other people do towards me. But oh, here's the flip side--the equally ridiculously obvious flip side: I CAN change me. I CAN decide, right here, right now, that NOTHING can dispossess me of my God-given joy and kindness, nor my divinely natural inclination to bring those feelings to any set of human circumstances.

How about you? What crossroads are you standing in right this moment? I am NOT dismissing the severity of certain human events, nor unmindful of how some happenings can wear on our souls. What I'm saying is that we--you, and I--have a choice in how we respond. And our first response, if it sucks us down a traditional path of "Alas, woe is me!", does NOT have to be the response we stick with. We can choose to embrace whatever lies before us, and face it with the joy and love that is native to us, native because our Creator put it in us at the beginning.

Here's a picture, snapped a couple weeks ago:

Same scene, taken a few seconds ago--and PLEASE appreciate my dedication in sharing this with you, 'cause it meant sneaking out the front door in my bathrobe and flipflops, and sheltering my camera from the still-falling snow :)

Do I prefer the day in which the first shot was taken? An hour ago, my answer would have been a resounding YES! But the second shot is a moment of TODAY--a snippet of what lies before me in my here and now. And I choose to LOVE it. I choose to take the example of those brilliant hardy tulips and say, "Yep, I, too, am blossoming in the midst of inclement weather, and nothing can stop me either, from growing and blooming, just like I was created to do."

Now, all that brings to mind another quote, or a version thereof:

"Tu-lip, or not tu-lip--that is the question . . ."

Sorry, Shakespeare!!! And love to all of you!! I'm off now--got a lot of tu-lipping to do today!!

Welcome, April

2010-04-09T17:14:00.001-06:00

I'm not quite sure where I disappeared to, since my last blog post on my birfday . . .I'm not gonna spend much time, here, analyzing WHY I haven't posted in so long. Many journal pages already have tons of footprints from the zigzagging journey of these past few weeks.

Suffice it to say that I am here, now. And here's a picture of me that I ended up quite liking. It was sort of a "before" picture for an assignment in an e-course I took. And when I saw it, I said to myself, "Self, look at those legs . . . look at their strength and curve . . . " I can't remember the last time I so thoroughly enjoyed the sight of myself in skin-tight clothing.

Another assignment in this e-course was to define ourselves through images and perhaps a word or two: again, I surprised myself by what I chose. It actually took a lot of oomph to "name" myself this so publicly. But hey, I think I am beginning, teeny step by teeny step, to allow myself to love the best of me.

Yet one more assignment in this e-course that I've just completed, was to have a photo that could serve as an advertisement for ourself. Instead of creating something new, I ended up taking a fresh look at a wall in my living area that, piece by piece, has accumulated over this winter, to end up being a pretty accurate depiction of me.

I'm conscious that this post, so far, might seem to be all me/me/me/me/me. And aren't we so cautioned about getting wrapped up in self? But here's the thing: this post doesn't reflect the all of me. Actually, I spend most of my active time helping others. During this month of being off-line with my blog, I've been with an elder relative every day during her two emergency room visits and ten days in the hospital. On behalf of a friend in deep need, I was awake all night and prayed, except for a brief hour+ nap. On a day when my own heart was hurting and felt in need of comfort, I went instead to another friend's bedside, took her flowers and loving thoughts.

I don't mention ANY of this to say "Woohoo, isn't Maureen wonderful." Those actions I told you about were just some of the ways that God uses me. They result from my surrendering myself to God and asking Him to guide me. They are ways that He stops me from being so sad over MY life, and has me reach out to others.

But another thing that God is doing in me, is causing me to realize, in very practical ways, that the only way to truly "love my neighbor as myself," is to love myself as well. And that means being just as joyous about Maureen, as I am about others.

So actually, the first paragraphs of this post, where I WAS talking about me/me/me, I guess that I really WAS saying, "Woohoo, isn't Maureen wonderful." [ARGH!!! that was so hard to type!!! Little itchy voices all through my head are screaming "you are SO stuck on yourself!]

Hey you guys . . . aren't we ALL wonderful??? Truly wonder-full?? Do we have to wait for someone else to say it about us??? Can't we gently, lovingly, joyfully, acknowledge that we are indeed, an asset to the world around us? How are the rest of you dealing with this? Are you able, in some public way (meaning not just in the silence of your thoughts, or on a private journal page), to say really nice things about yourself? I'd love to hear what you think on this.

Happy Birfday

2010-03-09T12:13:00.000-07:00

Happy birfday to meeeee . . .

Happy birfday to meeeeeeeeeee . . .

Happy BIRFday, dear Maureeeeeeeeen. . .

Happy birfday to ME!!

Sweet thanks to Amanda and Jason for my flowers!!

Hello March

2010-03-03T18:22:00.000-07:00

I've had several ideas for blog posts swirling in the back of my thought for a couple weeks. But right now, they escape me!! Plus, I have to leave in just a few minutes for a mid-week church service. I'll admit I'm kinda proud of myself in that for the past year and a half, I've been faithful in leading a hymn sing before our regular service. I can't sing. I can't play any musical instrument besides the radio. But I can activate a CD player and make a joyful noise, along with recorded music.

More and more I'm learning to drop preconceived limits (like not being able to sing or play), and just trust that any deep desire will find a way to blossom.

The gorgeous geranium being showcased in this post is one of my favorite floral buddies. She was rather roughly yoinked from the ground a few falls ago as I dashed to bring her inside before a sudden hard frost. She has gamely survived my attempts to prune her back so she isn't so gangly. Thankfully she resisted all my attempts to harness her leggy growth.

She blossoms very reliably, spilling luminescent petals over my favorite chair. She keeps me company through some very long winters, of the soul as well as of the outdoors.

Morning After

2010-02-16T15:34:00.000-07:00

Love. Love God. Love yourself. Love others. But above all, when in doubt, love.

Sometimes I think I'm making progress, or what I would call progress. I see a place in my life that I think I need to/ought to/should be, and try to get there. I know all about how the journey is equally important as the destination, and some would say more so.

But still. It has been hard for me to value my wanderings in the wilderness. Why can't I just get "there" and finally be "done?"

Those are the frustrations--the chorus of nasty voices that swirls around the edges of my thoughts at times.

But. [And this is a BIG but!!!!] I'm finally seeing evidence of true growth. Of groping in the dark, zigzagging through the wartorn pieces of my life, enduring self-inflicted wounding and STILL coming out of it loving myself and my babystumble from an old life into a new.

All these pictures? Evidence of the day-old Valentine's candy I bought for myself yesterday. And ate. The chocolate that kept me from sleeping. I knew when I ate it that I might be sabotaging sleep. But the tender ache, the still healing wounds from unrequited love, called out for something sweet. So I fed myself chocolate.

When I couldn't sleep in the dark of night, I got up and read a book. Went back to bed just before 4am and managed to sleep, on and off, until almost noon. Got up and showered. Went to my line dance class, groggy, grainy in my soul, a little wobbly in my dancing feet. But gentle. Oh-so-gentle with my emerging self.

Right now, I am doing the best I can. I am moving from darkness into light. Yes, I wobble. Sometimes I fall. Hard.

But I'm learning to hug myself. Maybe lie down with my self, and rest, until we can get to our feet again. More hugs. Wipe away tears. Blow snotty nose. Turn face to the sun and start again, one tiny, unsteady step at a time, into the light.

Inch by Inch by Inch

2010-01-30T17:43:00.000-07:00

I gotta be honest: for me somedays it takes a LOT of courage and heart to keep going. Progress seems so tiny. One of the physical projects I'm working on is the Purge of the whole house. Even though I keep inching forward in this work, and tell myself that the task truly is finite and limited, still the mountain of Undone towers over the anthills of Done.

[ARGH!!!!! And then I think of the people in Haiti . . . loved ones lost. Homes crumbled to the ground. Days filled with a struggle to literally survive. I feel so ashamed for uttering even a syllable of complaint. I have a roof over my head, a safe and warm and comfortable place to sleep. I don't worry about my next meal. I am swamped with gratitude for the blessings in my life. And I feel like a rat for whining about ANYthing . . . ]

But I guess that is a balancing act many of us work on. Our spirits can almost always be lifted by being sincerely and specifically grateful for what we DO have. But it also seems like we need to allow ourselves room for the sorrow in our lives. Sadly, we can always find someone worse off than we are. And yes, we need to STOP thinking about ourselves for at least part of the time--turn our gaze and our focus outward. But then again, it seems healthy to me to take at least some time and acknowledge when the load we are carrying has gotten particularly heavy.

Gee, can you tell this has been One of Those Days????

I could have easily stayed under the warm and comfortable covers this morning. But I didn't. I got up and got cleaned up. Prayed. Took time with my Bible study. Then I tackled one more small area in one room.

The picture at the beginning of this post is at the top of this one area. The sun is my first (and so far, only) attempt at stained glass. The poster shows what I feel like when my spirit is light and lovely. The little circle is a poem someone framed for my mom, with a butterfly escaping its cocoon.

Here's what was under the artistic beauty:

First step was to strip off everything. (Off the shelves, that is :) )

Hmmmmm . . . . there's enough dust there to build something, isn't there????

Started sorting stuff and then it was time to go get my daughter and take my aunt up Spearfish Canyon to her favorite restaurant. We had a sweet time making plans for her 89th birthday party next week.

Came home ready to flop, but sweet daughter encouraged us both to work for an hour before flopping.

So I plowed ahead with the sorting, dusting, and vacuuming and ended up with this:

What are you all working on? Is there anything I can encourage you with?

One Corner at a Time

2010-01-25T18:00:00.000-07:00

Heading off in a few minutes to help teach a dance class. Can't find a partner for myself, but found this way to dance, every Monday night for six weeks. I help a friend teach the basics of duo-dancing--what a joy to see someone's face when they finally get a step.

When I update you on my progress on my house "reveal," I share before and after pictures, but I GOTTA start with something prettier!! So here's what a simple peanut butter and jelly sammich looks like, when the filling is homemade strawberry/raspberry jam made by a friend, and shared lovingly.

I tackled one corner of one room today (I refuse to think how many more corners await me). The files were nearly inaccessible, and the pile on the floor is mostly a mass of all my bags having books and papers from different events.

I worked slowly, steadily for several hours. I did NOT just move the stuff to other places. No, instead I went through each bag and sorted the contents. Had a big boo-hoo over a big stack of income tax returns. All the way back to 1974--the first year I was married. Each folder chockfull of evidence of how carefully I'd managed our family's money. All sorts of notes to verify every expense of every move (back when this was tax-deductible.) All those years that I thought I was laboring along with a loving partner, for jointly-held dreams.

I let myself cry hard, and briefly, for the loss of all those years. For the present realization that I was really the only person involved in those dreams.

Then I tossed everything in the trash.

Had my marriage turned out differently, I might likely have saved all those memorabilia for possible story ideas. I still love everything I did those years, with and for my children, but I am LETTING GO and accepting the fact that my husband was physically present, but emotionally absent much of the time. So be it.

Here's the result of my efforts:

God has called me to live in the here and now, and He is giving me plenty of joyous stuff, right here and now, to live out and write about. Thank You, God.

I'd originally thought I'd tackle this one whole room for the month of January. Hasn't worked that way so far. Again, my theory of working on the house every day, and some sort of walk/exercise every day, has just not worked out. But I am staying with loving with myself, and trying to focus on what I AM able to do, versus what I do NOT get done.

How is YOUR new year coming? Anything you want to share? Any new goals? Projects? Dreams?

Day by Day

2010-01-19T11:46:00.000-07:00

Ah, growth. You can't force it. You CAN try to provide the most optimum conditions, but in the end, you must simply let growth happen. Things grow because that is how they are designed.

Remember my little green buddy from the last post? Here's how he looks today:

That's pretty much a photo of me . . .broadening, stretching, not yet fully unfurled.

My Big Plan for 2010--daily work on my cluttered house, and daily energetic movement of my body--has continued to NOT go according to my rigid and humanly perfectionistic plan. And I guess I'm glad, 'cause I've had my fill of impossible expectations.

What I HAVE done, since the last post, is walk outside in City Park. Three hard-and-fast round trips past my favorite stretch of creek works out to exactly 30 minutes. And all the family memories of time spent in this place are able to be lovingly thought of. That's real progress.

And regarding a relationship, I gathered courage and prayed real hard and talked to a friend about stuff that I thought he would get mad about and walk out over. He didn't. We had a wonderful hour-and-a-half of honest, loving discussion. I considered that a minor miracle and am still giving thanks for it.

When I knew he was coming over, and I knew I was praying for the gumption to tackle the difficult topic, I was too jittery to sit. In the midst of prayer, I could feel God leading me to get up and go upstairs. I went into this room.

In a little under two hours, I had THIS room.

I'd had no conscious intention to tackle that area, or even to work on the house at all that day. But God showed me how I could take that "nervous energy" and let my hands work, even while my mind and heart were thinking and praying. Is the room anywhere near "done?" Oh my no. Is it improved? More importantly, is it at least minimally functional? Oh my yes.

So, I'm now 19 days into The Great Reveal of 2010. I'm tickled to see visual differences in the house. I'm pleased that I have walked inside in bad weather, and outside when the sidewalks allowed. And I'm peaceful, having felt God's tender touch and His quiet reassurance that yes, I am following His lead.

And my dear friends, how are you? Any new plans or projects you want to share? Are you finding new ways to let joy and love flow out of you?

Renamed Blog Post

2010-01-11T11:00:00.000-07:00

Hey, I know . . . some might say I'm a little late with my New Year greeting, but what the heck: today is the 11th, and my clock reads 11:01 am . . . that's a lot of ones, isn't it???

Here's one of my little green friends that smiled at me this morning. Can't you almost HEAR the unfurling growth? the persistence?

I think the leaf above looks like a little tornado, ready to unleash itself . . . and down below, I see a dancer, full of grace . . .

So, why has it taken me until the 11th to greet the New Year? The gentle truth is that [long pause here while I sit in front of the keyboard and wonder how to say it] . . . the GENTLE truth is that I've been aching, from the inside out, this past week or two. It's not been the same depression from the past, which has felt like an unrelenting sadness. Honestly, it has puzzled me, because I have known, with great certainty, that God has been working in me since November, doing something at a very deep level. I wonder if I'm currently mourning stuff that I am being divinely urged to let go of.

My Big Plan for 2010 was to blog nearly every day, updating on the plan of action God has led me to, which I've called The Reveal. This involves clearing away all that does not "belong" in my house or my body. I planned to, methodically, move through my house and purge all the Stuff, to the bone. I also planned to start again to walk and go to Curves, and hopefully thus "reveal" more of the real me in my body.

Well, in my life, Big Plans often sort of go the way of Good Intentions, i.e. they pave the road to youknowwhere. But my dear daughter has been encouraging me to take baby steps. [If you want guaranteed uplift, visit her blog at http://persistentgreen.blogspot.com/].

Last night was one of my lowest times, extremely raw and heart-painful. But something in me, the seed of the real me, kept turning to God, from darkness to His light. At one point, Amanda urged me to paint. She wasn't being at all dismissive of the despair she heard in me. Rather, she was reminding me that especially when feelings seem too deep for words, I can allow myself to put color on paper, with no particular purpose, just letting the wordless in me find expression.

Well, here's what I did.

And again, at Amanda's suggestion (doesn't she have wonder-full ideas?), this morning I added words. They are from a poem I wrote during the November Poem-a-Day challenge, entitled "Radiant."

To love is to live. /I insist on my right /to love without restraint. /No mortal act possesses power /to dispossess me of my birthright. /Outward, from the very heart of me, /love flows.

As far as my Big Plan for this year: no, I have not, at all, made daily progress, except to commit to being very gentle with myself. I HAVE made it to the Recreation Center 4 times, to walk for 30 minutes. And here are Before and After pictures of two areas in my house:

How are all of you doing? Do you want to share any ways you are experiencing growth? or finding more joy? Do you want to share anything you are struggling with?

That's all for now, folks. Thanks for listening. And for loving.

Sturdy Soul

2009-12-31T23:44:00.000-07:00

It's nearly midnight here. I intend this post to close out my first year of blogging. But then, depending on when I push a magic computer button, it might actually become my first sharing of 2010. We'll see.

I'll admit right here: the last few weeks of this year have been rugged. A part of me is ashamed to say that, since I know others suffering grave illness. Some mourning suicides. Others struggling with chronic bodily pain and joblessness and poverty. I have none of those.

Rational thought points an accusing finger to the mirrored image and mutters: "She better shape up. Stop complaining. Just shake off the past and get ON with her life."

I'm trying. I really never thought it would take this long or be this hard. I've prayed harder than ever. Flung countless streams of heartfelt gratitude to the heavens. Felt the presence of God more sharply and intensely than ever.

And still, such sadness remains. With every fiber of my being, I know that full healing is possible, since nothing is impossible with God. But some days I don't think I will ever fully come out from under the shadow of what my father and husband have done.

But I'm trying.

As the last few minutes of this year count down, I hereby make a conscious decision to focus my attention on some good things and share those, even while tears wet the keyboard:

Thanks to the loving prompting of my daughter, I painted today. It's not finished yet since it still needs some sharp contrasts, but here it is as a work in progress.

I also closed out this year watching the last three hours of So You Think You Can Dance. That's all I was able to see of the season, since I don't have TV access. My dear daughter recorded the final shows for me and I was overwhelmed, not just with the quality of dancing, but with the overflowing emotion and joy and enthusiasm expressed by the dancers and the judges. Truly a celebration of life.

I wasn't able to finish out my 100 days of writing, but I'm quite proud of the 57 days I DID write.

And in November, I wrote poetry every day. From that body of work I've distilled a collection which I've named "Sturdy Soul." It reflects the heart of me and I am very proud of it.

So, I finish out this year in my home, alone, tears freshly dried, a painting also drying, poetry speaking of my heart's resilience. My walk with God has reached new heights and depths. My commitment to live real and honest and fully alive and loving is stronger than ever.

For this, and for the friends and family who have been so faithful in their love of me, I am truly grateful.

Almost Midnight

2009-12-03T23:51:00.000-07:00

The last few minutes of today trickle away. The rational part of me says, "Be quiet. Tomorrow you'll regret saying anything. Besides, what you're feeling is likely due to 'an undigested bit of beef.'" (courtesy of Mr. Scrooge).

Well, to my rational self I say: phbtphbtphbt (or however you spell out the sound of blowing raspberries.)

All too often I have overlooked, stepped around, stepped on fresh new beginnings because I didn't recognize them as such. At best I might have credited them as momentary blips of fantasy, too impractical for Real Life, or (here's the meanest one), not something I could really pull off.

Well. All that nonsense is gonna change. HAS changed. As of now.

I'm declaring publicly, right here and now, that I have abandoned my sweet real self long enough. So many years trying to please others. Trying to behave so that they won't leave me. Didn't work anyway. And all along my sweet self was waiting for me to notice her and give a thought or two about pleasing HER. About MY not leaving HER.

God made me to be me. My only true job/calling/mission is to be the me God made. I'm the only one who can do it. If I don't be me, then I leave a hole in God's universe.

And that's all I have to say for tonight. The clock has just struck midnight and I did NOT turn into a pumpkin. I turned into ME.

[most of the photos sprinkled throughout were taken a couple days ago on a walk by my beloved creek.]

Hello, again

2009-11-29T14:51:00.000-07:00

Hello out there, to whomever might be dropping in to visit me. November has turned out to be sort of an odd month for blog postings. Had some emotional ups and downs regarding family stuff. Prayed my way through and feel pretty peaceful.

[here's one of my geraniums, brought inside a couple of winters ago and blessing me with neon-pink blossoms all year round.]

I'm glad to feel peaceful--however, the aforesaid mentioned ups/downs played havoc with some of my plans, like more frequent postings here. And my personal Writing Challenge . . . oh dear . . . I am now officially 14 days behind in the daily writing. But hey, hope springs eternal, at least here in my home. I fully intend to catch up before year's end.

[I trimmed a plant and stuck the cuttings in a pitcher. Doesn't the sun make them beautiful?]

And yay for me, it's Day 29 of the Poem-a-Day challenge, and I am current through today. Writing a poem every day, to someone else's prompt, and then posting that rough draft for all the world to see: that is QUITE a brave feat, as any writer will acknowledge. So far, I have noticed a definite change in my whole relationship with writing poetry. It seems much more like breathing. I can summon the muse and not wait, endlessly, for her to visit. And I can be less attached to each poem, more ready to slice and dice if need be. December will see several of us working together to edit our work. I'm really eager for that.

Here's my poetry wall--each day's offering gets posted here as well as on the official blogsite.

Another great accomplishment was getting my roof replaced. It was a task with emotional entanglements, my having received my house in the divorce over two years ago, along with its needed repairs. It feels very good, on many levels, to be going into winter with a new roof over my head. Lots of new beginnings.

My love and thanks to all who visit my blog and read what I have to say. A special thanks to those who leave comments. It means more than I can express.

Touching Base

2009-11-15T18:43:00.000-07:00

Not really sure of the purpose of this particular post, only that I felt led to write it. We'll see what comes :) . I'm gonna find some of my favorite flower and sunset pictures and sprinkle them in. With the days dark so early, I NEED this color.
This past week has passed pretty much like the few before it: still a little sick, still a little sad, still having wonderful creative moments, still experiencing times of deep sweetness with family and friends.

Yet a melancholy persists.

I hope what I'm about to say next comes out right: in the very many years that I've been working hard at surviving the life experiences I've been in, I have read, listened, prayed, studied a very very very great deal. (Here comes the maybe weird part). Because of that multitude of dedicated effort, I think I KNOW whatever it is I need to know, in order to be emotionally stable and peaceful and productive.

So, why am I not (stable, peaceful, etc.)? Yes, I agree, I do have moments when everything works well, but why has the balance not shifted, and stayed, on the side of emotional health?

Still yet more prayer and listening and humility has brought me to this conclusion: all those ideas that I KNOW, I need to believe and practice. With greater regularity. With deeper confidence.

So that's what I'm gonna focus on. My head is tired with all the knowing. My heart and soul are now gonna take the lead. I can envision more smiles, more vocalized gratitude, more laughter, more hugging, even if I've gotta hug myself.

Each day, I will act out my reenergized belief that God is Love itself, that God loves me, that God needs me, and that God lifts me up, every single moment.

And I will know (oops!! make that BELIEVE) that each one of you can feel that same Love lifting you, all throughout each day.

P.S. I'm all caught up on my Poem-a-Day challenge, and only 2 days behind on my WRITE:100, with a total of over 18,000 words so far.

Keep on Keeping On

2009-11-09T12:28:00.000-07:00

Sunshine and warm outside. I'm grateful for that. I experienced a glitch in my routine of creative output. Got four days behind in my Poem-a-Day challenge but just caught up. Still have four days of my writing challenge to catch up on. Here's a little picture I painted recently, a sign of my hope.

The days right now seem to be a mix: a little sick, a little sad, some lovely artistic moments, some deeply sweet connections with family and friends. I continue to pray to seek a continuity of happiness within my relationship with God . . .with Whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning, to paraphrase a favorite Bible reference to God's dependability.

In the midst of times of supremely fulfilling creativity, I still labor to get my Stuff in order. Here's one image of my oh-so-orderly business workspace. Now doesn't that just inspire confidence? One glance at that and you'd readily trust me to manage your finances and affairs, right?

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I know.

I understand that life is a work in progress, but I am still holding onto the hope that I can find a smidge more serenity in how I manage the Details of my life. If any of you have found solutions, I'd sure love to hear.

I send my love and appreciation to all who read what I have to say, and I thank those of you, boundlessly, who take the time and effort to leave comments.

Busy busy days

2009-11-04T23:13:00.000-07:00

I have really missed having more frequent blog posts here. But the good news is that my lack of frequency is not due to anything (whoa--I just typed "anythong"!!!) negative.

Rather, my level of productivity in creative areas has lept up several notches. I'm 100% current on my WRITE:100 project, having written every day and have accumulated over 13,000 words on my new novel.

Also joined a Poem-a-Day challenge for November and have written and posted each day.

I found some new dancing buddies and have danced 5 of the last 6 days.

I've also painted nearly every day.

My prayers for God's leading and inspiration have deepened to a level I couldn't have imagined previously. He is definitely lifting me up and out of past habits and limits and showing me new directions and abilities.

I am so deeply grateful. Don't get me wrong--this time of elevated activity has still been full of tears, frustrations and doubts . . . but those are melting away in the light and warmth of God's sustaining love.

How are all of you doing? Are you leaning toward the difficult things in your life and letting the divine current of God's goodness carry you forward?

I'm Baaaaaaaaack

2009-10-29T18:57:00.000-06:00

[The pictures sprinkled throughout this post are not very photogenic, I know. But they are my attempt to say goodbye to summer, which was all too short, and make peace with winter, which arrived all too suddenly and soon.]

I'm very grateful to my sweet friend and fellow writer/artist Amanda, at http:/www.persistentgreen.blogspot.com for asking me something today. She'd noticed that I hadn't blogged for over two weeks and wondered if a reason existed beyond just the usual busyness of life.

I told her I'd been wondering the same thing. I have really loved this adventure of blogging and actually am pretty dumbfounded that I've been at it since January 2nd. So it surprised me--no, actually sort of dismayed me--that although I'd listed "write new blog post" on a series of daily To Do lists, I kept avoiding it.

After just a few moments of contemplating this mystery with Amanda, I found myself crying. Yeah, I know that isn't a very unusual occurence for me, but it really surprised me this time. I just opened up to the feelings surfacing and realized that underneath, I was pretty scared. That surprised me even more.

But again, I gently let the feelings find words for themselves. What's coming to light is that I am to-the-bone weary of being in so much transition. Yes, transition is far better than being stuck in a rut. But this mental and emotional climate of always working toward something in the future had somehow robbed me of the joy of just being me, here and now, in whatever messy and loptarded shape I'm in.

Yes, I want to lose weight. Yes, I want a relationship with a man that is safe and satisfying. Yes, I want the inside of my home to reflect order and allow space for creative chaos. Yes, I want the outside of my house to be safe from the elements. Yes, I want my paperwork in workable order. Etc. Etc. Etc.

But in all this focus on these "projects," some immediate and some long-term, I lost sight of just loving the me God has made, in whatever physical shape I'm currently in; of appreciating the male and female friendships I currently have; of loving my home and all I can do in it right now; of being grateful that I am able, in the midst of a paper hurricane, to still handle my current clerical obligations.

What are your days like? Do you feel swamped in endless lists of things to do? Do you think you perpetually fall short, no matter how much you accomplish? Have you found ways to live in this moment, to somehow, more simply, just be? I'd love to hear from you.

P.S. Despite my lack of blog posts, I HAVE kept current on my WRITE:100 challenge. And on Day 14, the entry turned into . . . . the beginning of a novel!!!! The subsequent pages have resulted in 11,459 words!!!! Woo-hoo!!!

P.P.P.S.S.S. Amanda had this quote on her blog today, and it really summed up a lot of what I was feeling: "When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly." ~Barbara Winter

WRITE: 100 Days 18-22

2009-10-14T18:34:00.000-06:00

Howdy!! Hey, this is kind of an unusual feeling, worth celebrating here: I'm happy :)

No particular reason. It's been a very full day, made more challenging 'cause I left a few things till today that I could have done earlier. But I just took a deep breath, prayed, and started in. And as of now, (still several hours before bedtime), I'm all caught up. No frenzy, just peaceful purposeful working.

For me, the prayer has been the key. I visit with God, admit when I've sorta screwed up. I ask for His guidance and companionship. And as His beloved child, I accept that He loves me, unconditionally. Wow.

I hope each of you are feeling some measure of peace and purpose today. You can wrap yourself in the sure knowledge that God loves you so dearly and has wonderful things in store for you. Yes, for YOU.

Write:100--Days 9-17

2009-10-10T19:24:00.000-06:00

How's your week been? Mine's been sorta uppydown, emotionally. Yeah, I know . . .nothing new about that :), at least for the past few years.

Spent one afternoon out in Bella, eating a delicious lunch and reading and journaling. Then some wicked cold, oh-so-NOT-October weather swooped in. I've got a heater I can take out there with me, but haven't hooked up electricity yet. [I'm throwing in one of my last sunflower pictures, as my way of ignoring the snow]

I've been faithful in writing every day. I'm pretty proud of that.

And something new has transpired. After talking to my daughter and another writing buddy after our bi-monthly writers's meeting, I witnessed a decided turn in my daily writing for WRITE:100. My daughter was encouraging/urging/prodding/lovingly pushing me to see if I could move beyond having my past be so very present in my 100 writing. I had no problem with that, in theory. I just didn't know how to DO it. Whatever writing prompt came up each day, was met with a tsunami of very sharp, very pungent memories of something not pleasant.

I knew her suggestion was good--more than good, actually needed. But I said I needed some "gimmick," something I could hold to mentally to turn me in another direction. Some sort of doorway into other thoughts.

Ah. . . a doorway . . .

Years ago, during the wrap on a theater production I was in, we worked to clean out the backstage area. Someone had thrown away a gizmo that had been used to simulate door sounds. To my eye, it was far too intriguing to be consigned to a trash barrel. I yoinked it out and have had it in one of my rooms ever since. I went to said room and re-found it, buried under several piles of Stuff (no big surprise there, huh?).

The Doorway is now propped next to my computer, its door, complete with creaky hinges, slightly open.

This perfect visual has called out to me for the past four days of daily writing. It invited me to read the prompt and then step through that doorway and see what else might want to be written . . . and . . . (drum roll here, please . . . .)

With hardly an extra breath, I stepped into another whole world. Jessie started telling her story and she and I are now down in Mexico . . . on a beach . . . and as far as I can tell, I plan to devote each day to her story. Whatever prompt I turn to, it's Jessie's story being written. Yes, bits and pieces of my life are there, but only bits and pieces. Hallelujah.

Amazing. Just amazing.

(P.S. Daughters are pretty incredible, aren't they?)

Has something amazing happened in your life? Wanna share with me?

Welcome, Bella

2009-10-04T15:26:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across the Italian word for beautiful: Bella. Right away, it tucked itself inside my heart. I knew it would be the name of something new in my life.

I kinda sorta thought maybe I'd be getting a dog.

Nope.

Last Thursday afternoon, (just three days ago???), my daughter and I were heading across town on errands. Caught sight of something for sale, on a nearby sidestreet. Stopped to look.

Several hours later, look what was parked in my driveway . . . this is the view from my bedroom window, where I looked out the next morning, just to be sure, since I thought I'd dreamed it all.

Let me introduce you to Bella, my new "friend." I've framed this picture in what might be the last view of my flowers, since weather.com predicts six inches of snow tonight.

Here's the view from the front passenger seat:

Here's the bathroom, complete with flushing toilet and an actual shower:

I'm standing at the bathroom door, looking forward now. The biggest sleeping area is over the front of the cab.

Honestly, I don't have a clue why I just bought this camper. I certainly am NOT flush with "extra" money. Yes, I dreamed of driving a camper all around the US coast, but that was a dream I shared with my husband. And I figured the dream vanished when he did. Am I holding onto that dream? Nope, doesn't feel like that.

All I can tell you is that when I first caught sight of her, I "recognized" her. The next few hours were filled with checking her out, praying, talking with the previous owner, praying, having my son Ben and his wife help with a test drive, praying, and then finally writing that check. I tucked myself to sleep that night in disbelief and wonder.

From the next morning, and continuing until now, I've been asking God what might be the primary "purpose" behind this purchase. What I keep hearing is: I want you to trust Me, dearest. Just keep your hand in Mine. You'll know what you need to know, when you need to know.

Okay, God. You and me. And Bella, of course.

Great Giveaway at PersistentGreen

2009-10-04T15:05:00.000-06:00

If you don't already know about it, Amanda at PersistentGreen is holding a wonderful giveaway, as part of her efforts to Spread Joy!!

I can tell you from firsthand experience that she pours herself into these new journals. She's handmarbled each cover, handtorn each page, hand cut the covers, hand varnished them, and then cut and "inserted" the spiral binding with her own machine!!!! Truly handmade, one-of-a-kind, from start to finish.

Head over to her blog, http://www.persistentgreen.blogspot.com, and see how to win the first journal.

Day 7 and 8 of WRITE: 100

2009-09-30T11:34:00.000-06:00

Yay me. Sick for a couple days. Actually, not really well for over a week, but down-and-out these past couple days. But hey, I stayed pretty peaceful throughout. Tucked myself into God's arms with lots of quiet prayer.

Still managed to fulfill my writing challenge each day. Maybe that rubbed-raw feeling actually helped the writing, although I'm definitely glad to be feeling much better today and would most happily yield up any "inspiration" that feeling so bad might have produced.

I'm holding on to these last few days of warmth. Very windy out--mighty bursts of warm wind. And they say that we will likely see our first snow tomorrow evening, at least in the higher elevations.

Many many many chores and obligations have slid the past few days. And yet, I have spent the morning in creative work: writing, praying, painting. And somehow, that feels very responsible. Perhaps the peace and fulfillment I feel at this moment will do much more for helping me accomplish all the GottaDos, than the load of worry I usually carry. I'll keep you posted on how that comes out.

The photos I've posted today are part of my submission for http://thursdaysweettreat.blogspot.com. Head over there Thursday if you want to see more.

Day 6 of WRITE:100

2009-09-28T09:36:00.000-06:00

Mothers, listen to your daughters. Or at least, listen when you have been blessed with a daughter like mine, who is also a fellow artist and writing companion. (Catch a glimpse of her amazing work at http://persistentgreen.blogspot.com.)

Last night, when I'd shared with her some of what I'd written in the first few days of this Last 100 Days of 2009 challenge, she urged me further. Yes, she praised my determination to fulfill the day's quota, especially when it was wrung out in the last moments before the stroke of midnight on an overloaded day. But why not try writing in the freshness of morning?

Hmmm. What would come out, I wondered, if I let my creative self out to play in the dewy first hours of a brand-new day? Perhaps Little Daughter hath much wisdom . . .

So I tried. Rolled out of bed, after morning prayers, grabbed my bedside fuzzy robe, and parked my Self at the computer. Turned randomly to page 149 in my prompt book and read the 5th line: "phone. I was gone for a week of teaching at the end of summer"

Ah. "end of summer." That's all it took. An hour and fifteen minutes later, I have 1162 words of fiction printed out and ready to tuck into my binder.

And the bonus: I will go through whatever else this lovely day includes, breathing the scent of creative work filling my house, my heart, my world.

Woo-hoo.

First 5 Days of WRITE: 100

2009-09-27T22:14:00.000-06:00

Proud of myself for keeping up with the new challenge, albeit for only the first five days so far. But they've been busy days, with some wobbly parts to them. Would have been oh-so-easy to flail my hands and skip a day, or two, or twelve.

But I didn't.

I'm not at all sure what, if any, of the daily writing I will post here. Once writing is shared on the internet, it is considered published. Don't want to do that, if seeds of The Great American Novel are surfacing!!!

But I want to share SOMEthing . . . so, here are my prompt lines and the output:

Day 1: "they haven't made the separation between speech and"--158 words of fiction

Day 2: "for having leapt into a swimsuit to swim in warm ocean"--349 words of non-fiction

Day 3: "actually becoming a Jew, I must learn to speak phonetic"--188 words of fiction

Day 4: "must not do it. He is too small. He has a lifetime of adventures"--325 words of fiction

Day 5: "what it felt like when I was hungry. It was so strange. I was once"--116 words of poetry.

If anyone else is joining this Last 100 Days of 2009 challenge, I'd love to hear some of what you are doing.

A New Challenge

2009-09-20T23:58:00.000-06:00

Just got home a few hours ago from a weekend trip out-of-state. Left on a summer day and came back to definite fall in the air. I'm sorta twitchy inside with the change of seasons and wondering what is also changing inside me . . . and in my life.

I feel as if I've been in the land of Transition for oh-so-very-very-long. Will I ever get to where I'm going? Or is "right where I am" exactly where I'm supposed to be?

In the midst of this uncertainty, my daughter and fellow artist--http://persistentgreen.blogspot.com/ called me to say she'd picked up this factoid on Twitter: September 23 will mark the beginning of the last 100 days of the year.

Hmmmmmm . . . having just come off a fantastic 100 day challenge in which I "played with watercolors" every day for 100 days, this factoid definitely set off some creative vibrations.

Within a few minute, maybe 15 at the most, an idea took shape, I'd written a contract with myself, printed it out and signed it.

Ta-da. I still feel unsettled about what's going on in my life, but this new creative challenge feels right and good. I think it will provide a continuity for these last days of 2009.

The painting challenge definitely left me a different person than when I started. Can't wait to see the effects of the writing challenge.

I'll see if I can post the text of my contract:

100 Days: 100 Words

Starting on September 23, 2009, I commit to writing a minimum of 100 words a day, each day, until the end of the year.

The prompt will come from a random page selection (pages 1-272) in Anne Lamott’s TRAVELING MERCIES: Some Thoughts on Faith.

I’ll count down to the 5th full line of text, and then copy out that line with its beginning and ending.

The writing can be anything: poetry, fiction, non-fiction.

The only parameters are at least 100 words, every day, for the last 100 days of the year.

I imagine that I’ll use Dan’s laptop . . . maybe out in Agnes???? I’ll print each day’s output and put it in a binder. Decorate the front? No clue whether or not any daily writings will connect with each other.

I hereby commit to doing my very best, realizing full well that “life” may intervene.

I further commit to approach this creative endeavor with a spirit of love and joy and fun.

___________________________________________
(signed) AquaMaureen

P.S. "Agnes" is a camper I have in my backyard. I have dreamed of her being a little home-away-from-home where I hole up and write.

_______________

So, anybody else out there want to join PersistentGreen/Amanda and me in some sort of creative challenge for the last 100 days of 2009?

Bravely She Paints

2009-09-16T18:01:00.000-06:00

With all the painting I've been doing, and the immeasurable progress made in my valuing of my creative work, I still get surprised by negativity.

One of the artists with ThursdaySweetTreat asked us to help her make her goal of having 250 4x6-inch pieces of unframed art, to be auctioned at some event in New York City, to benefit cancer research. I think she intended to encourage us by telling us that our work would be auctioned off alongside some celebrity work, mentioning Liam Neeson as one such celebrity.

That "encouragement" turned out to be a stumbling block for me, plus the idea of having people bid for the privilege of buying my art.

I'd decided, in theory, to participate. But when it came to actually sending the piece in the mail--actually commiting to saying "Here is some of my art and soon some people are expected to spend some real money for it and maybe bid against each other 'cause more than one person wants MY art" . . . . well, that's when I faltered.

But, yay for me. I DID send it off. Happily.

But I'll also admit here that I enclosed a note saying that if she didn't think the piece was "right" for the auction, to just keep it for herself.

I couldn't just send it off, freely and joyfully. I HAD to give the receiver some sort of "out"---I could not banish entirely the possibility of her opening the envelope and gulping and thinking, "oh, dear . . .what do I do with THIS?"

Oh well, I DID paint. I DID send it off.

And now I shall wait . . . for Liam Neeson to contact me and hire me to paint an entire wall in his celebrity home . . . teeheeheehee.

What next?

2009-09-15T00:36:00.000-06:00

Oh my. For 100 days I had a structure for this blog. Paint every day. Post nearly every day. And now that glorious adventure is over.

You know, even as I wrote "had a structure for this blog," something pinged in my thoughts. I think I stumbled onto this whole idea of blogging, back in January, as a way to break loose, break free. Of what? I'm not sure. Maybe if I knew more clearly, I'd already BE free.

Anyhoo, instinct tells me that holding to some "structure" for these posts would be antithetical to the original inspiration.

So . . . . . . here's what I'm thinking right now ("Now" being nearly 1 a.m.--waaaaaay past my bedtime . . . .) : I'm gonna do my best, my very best, to share the real me here in these posts. No, that's not a new commitment--I've been as honest as I know how, from the beginning. [oh poop. Tears. Gollygeewhiz, I'm sooooooooooooooooooo tired of crying.]

I'm casting about for words to accurately say what I'm trying to convey. But they dance at the edge of thought. They tease me. I LOVE writing. LOVE finding just the right word. But right now, words are NOT cooperating.

At this moment, I'm feeling all bits-and-piece-y. The last two weeks have been a physical and emotional roller-coaster, taking responsibility for getting my 88-year-old aunt moved from one assisted living facility to another, from a private room to a shared room. Making her new tiny space accommodate her myriad of needs. What she couldn't take with her is now scattered throughout my living room, single garage, double garage. Do I share it? Sell it? Toss it? I am inches away from drowning in STUFF, hers and mine.

I see her mired in memories, many of them sad. Even though her fiestiness usually prevails, much of her time now seems shaped/crippled by her past.

What do I want to do with the rest of my life, so that when I am 88, joy predominates? Every day overflows with crossroads, many taken unconsciously. This way? or that? Right this very moment, I am walking my way into my future. Which direction am I headed?

No more "quiet desperation."

No more holding back.

No more shushing myself.

No more shame.

The lovely flowers shown earlier, all arranged in a vase, came from this tangle of sunflowers growing in the cracks of my front sidewalk. They weren't planted. They weren't on purpose. They just started whereever they found themselves, grabbed onto whatever soil was available, made do with whatever water came their way, and they grew. And grew. And grew. They didn't ask for space. They didn't apologize for blocking the walkway. They just grew.

They shall be my teachers.

Day 100 of 100

2009-09-09T00:04:00.000-06:00

Day 100. Here it is.

Yeah, I'll admit: trumpets woulda been nice. Or a little drumroll.

Instead, it's just the sound of me snuffling back tears from a very long, hard day. And the sound of me munching milk-soaked shredded wheat just before midnight, the dinner I forgot to have earlier.

Spent 12 hours helping an elderly relative switch homes. I'm not at all sure she is is capable of living at this current level of independence. Another move might need to be on the horizon. Or maybe I am overtired and not optimistic enough and just really need a good night's sleep.

And maybe underneath, I still ache for someone to share this burden of care with me, and maybe even, sometimes, take care of me.

Well, what I DO know is that these 100 days of playing with watercolors has awakened in me another whole language of expression.

When I woke this morning, struggling against the demands of the day before it ever started, I went to my paints. Dripped and dribbled some splotch of each color in my paint set. Had no idea of some grand overall design. Just knew that Day 100 needed to incorporate EVERY color I had.

Came home some 12 hours later, so far beyond tired, and went to the paints again. Filled in all the white places. Wasn't sure what to do next. Head about to droop onto the wet page as midnight neared. Then I picked up the rigger, dipped it in the aquablue and started outlining.

What came out at the end makes me think of stained glass. So my final piece of this incredible 100-day endeavor uses all the color available; does not limit itself to some photo-realistic expression; and makes me think of church windows, lit with light and lifting thoughts to the heavens.

When all is said and done, I am satisfied, more than satisfied, with this 100 in 100 days project.

Amen.

Day 99 of 100

2009-09-07T22:34:00.000-06:00

Had a lovely family picnic scheduled for today, but part of it was going to be hard. Hard emotionally. In my early morning prayers, I turned to a book my dear daughter and son-in-law had given me by Dawna Markova: "Wide Open--On Living with Passion and Purpose."

Found this line: How could you love this day as if you had never been hurt?

I went right over to my watercolors and painted this:

It's me, AquaMaureen, giving and radiating and being wholly me.

Me, not pulling back or allowing myself to harden into something less than myself, due to being wounded in the past by someone else's actions.

Me, staying open and loving and vulnerable.

I'll risk getting hurt again, if that's the price of being fully open to love, fully alive.

Days 96, 97, and 98 of 100

2009-09-06T18:34:00.000-06:00

Busy few days. But I'm proud of myself, that I still painted. Actually, I'm sorta at a place where it would be harder NOT to paint, than to paint. I love that.

Here's Day 96.

Extremely random swipes with the wax resist crayon.

And the colors not as vibrant a contrast as I'd hoped.

Day 97.

I knew I had an extremely full day ahead of me, both physically and emotionally.

So this wide open, full sun just begged to be painted.

Now indulge me, folks . . . does anybody "see" a particular shape in this section?

Day 98.

I just felt like pink today :)

Day 95 of 100

2009-09-03T22:48:00.000-06:00

Here's today's piece.

Had a wonderful time last evening, finishing up five pieces that I did for ThursdaySweetTreat.

I absolutely loved working on that many at one time.

When I paint, I'm in a place beyond words, where things inside me feel in balance.

I love it.

(I photo'd these while they were still wet--the piece is dry now, but its fresh wetness is captured here in the photo--I like that!)

I can't quite believe that I have painted for nearly 100 days in a row . . . and yet, I DO feel a difference inside me. As if I've learned a new language.

Day 94 of 100

2009-09-02T21:40:00.001-06:00

Here's a glimpse of today's offering.

Give yourself a treat and pop over to thursdaysweettreat.blogspot.com sometime Thursday

and you can see the whole piece, plus a whole lot more.

Day 93 of 100

2009-09-01T20:09:00.000-06:00

Here's Day 93.

It's my attempt to paint the happy I feel today.

Woke in severe pain during the night. Prayed, as I have all my life. Did not get relief.

Called a friend early in the morning darkness to pray along with me.

Peace and relief came within a half hour.

Freedom from fears.

Freedom from pain.

Human language doesn't have words big enough for the gratitude I feel towards God for His loving tender care of me, and for the priceless support from others, in times of need.

Day 92 of 100

2009-08-31T13:27:00.000-06:00

Woohoo! I'm caught up! Here's today's offering, still wet around the edges.

No particular "plan" with this one . . . I just wanted more squiggly colors . . . more of what feels like the landscape of my soul . . . and one of my other favorite color combos called out to me.

Now that I think about it, this piece definitely reflects the joy and gratitude that's overflowing in me today. Emotional life is still hard. Lots of work to do on my aunt's behalf. Complicated relationships. And yet, these "challenges" are invitations to turn to God, more and more and more. And thankfully, I am accepting the invitation, and laying all sense of burden at the feet of my dear Father. What an unspeakable relief.

Day 91 of 100

2009-08-31T08:37:00.000-06:00

Still a day behind in posting . . . maybe I'll be able to catch up today. . . I find I really like the results when I take my photos in sunlight. Usually my picture for the day isn't ready until nearly bedtime, so my options are to photograph it under table lamp,

or wait until the bright shiny new day . . .

Here's Day 91's offering, just now photographed on this lovely summer morning:

It's another one that looks like the map of the world of Me . . .

lots of water and sundrenched land masses and luscious green growth.

Day 90 of 100

2009-08-30T12:43:00.000-06:00

Here's yesterday's painting.

Had yet one more intensely full day, facing some long-ignored needs in my house, and continuing the work of getting my aunt into another living situation. Found the courage to write what felt like a difficult email and waited for a response.

In that period of waiting, I painted the picture for Day 90. Once again, that inscrutable "writing" came out. Once again, I have no idea what was "said," only that I was left with a sense that deep down, I knew what was good and right. Deep down, I trusted all would be well.

This was yet another time when words failed me, and painting spoke my heart.

Days 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, and 28 of 100

2009-08-29T13:59:00.000-06:00

[I just realized that I posted these two "catch-up" days in reverse order. You might want to scroll to the NEXT post and see Days 15-20, and THEN these. ]

Here's the final catch-up of the time I was in California in June. After a week of totally free time, spent in incredibly beautiful locations at Big Sur, I moved to Asilomar, located right on the beach in the middle of the stretch of ocean labeled Big Sur.

My days would be full from dawn until nearly midnight, with Bible study and fellowship with likeminded searchers for Truth. I don't have words to describe the uplift and inspiration that permeated the days and nights.

In my 2nd story room, which overlooked the ocean, I left my paints and pads set up, spread over desk and spare bed. Whenever I was in my room, with a few minutes here and there, I'd pick up a brush and just swoop and sploosh as the Spirit moved me.

Day 21--often I'd go back to that sampler I made from the "kids" colors, and find a color combo that excited me and then play with that.

Day 22--colors crisscrossing themselves.

ay 23--squiggles of oceanblue

Day 24--swirls of inspiration, feelings I couldn't find words big enough for.

Day 25--a mix of straight and curved, and more colors that called out to be next to each other.

Day 26--a rainbow in unexpected colors.

Day 27--this is the day I would travel home. Can't remember right now whether I painted this in CA before I left . . . pretty sure I did. So much swirling inside me, filling my heart and soul and mind with inspiration and hope. But it wasn't too much. It was huge, but not too much.

Day 28--the day I was supposed to be home, but was in Denver instead. Agreed to give up my plane seat so someone else could fly. Earned a night in Denver and a free ticket. The painting was done while my pant legs were still rolled up, damp from my last walk in the ocean. I painted all I felt of my love for the sea; my tears over the broken lines in my life; my joy at seeing many of those lines as crosses--challenges I was called on to face. In doing so with prayer and surrender, I'd been brought so close to my Father, God.

The next day I was home, and that's where my daily blogs picked up, with Day 29.

Days 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20 of 100

2009-08-29T13:06:00.000-06:00

Since Final Day 100 is swooping in fast, I thought I'd grab a few moments and catch up by posting the paintings I did while in California. Oddly sweet and tender to re-visit those days, so early in the 100 in 100 Challenge.

I fulfilled a years-long dream by taking my paints to the sea shore and being brave enough to attempt to paint at water's edge.

[For some reason, all my photos turn the image a quarter turn. Usually I would "correct" this so you could see the image as I'd painted it. But something tells me to just leave this batch of paintings turned on their keisters.]

Day 15--Arrived late in Monterey, CA, just as sun was setting. Curled up in my hotel room and played with the teeny little travel set of watercolors I'd just purchased back home.

Day 16--Next day, during a supply run to the local WalMart, I was led down a particular aisle. A "children's" art product caught my eye. HAD to have it. Sat in my rental car, at one of my favorite beach spots (where I saw a sea otter being birthed on Mother's Day several years ago.) Wind was pretty fierce, so I set up shop in the car. Broke open my NEWEST set of watercolors and couldn't contain myself. First project was to try all the colors, just as I'd done the night before with the OTHER, "adult" set of colors. Interesting now to look back and see how the shapes I laid down differed so. Of course, the first one (Day 15) was also done in the sterility of a motel room, while THIS sampler was painted as I breathed in sea air and let wind and wave crash around me. (The 9x9 pad was scarcely big enough to fit in all the joy, despite being substantially bigger than my 5X7 100 pad)

And this is the official Day 16:

Day 17--I actually bit the bullet and "made" myself be brave enough to set up shop ON the beach, i.e. in the sand, full sun overhead, no shelter or "safe place" to hide. Discovered quickly what it's like to manage natural elements in the midst of painting. Had to move swiftly at one point to avoid incoming waves. Quickest way to "save" drippingly wet painting was to toss sand on it. If you could run your hand over today's piece, you'd feel Big Sur sand . . .

Day 18--more painting at water's edge. Much wind today. Was painting in the 100 journal plus two others, letting each dry or set up, rotating between them all. Had to use my body very inventively to keep pages and paints and cups of rinse water upright. Realized at one point that I was in my "birthing" position, one I remembered well from my three home births. I sat upright, legs outspread, knees akimbo, wet and newly birthed paintings safe between my knees.

This painting was one of several I did, using my fingers to swipe off paint that had spilled out of the trays, and then applying it as fingerprints to the page. Then aquamaureenwaterblue splooshed over them.

Day 19--experimented with brush squiggles. Loved the complementary blue and brown.

Day 20--pure ocean colors. The bleeds are from salt water (from the ocean this time, and not my tears!!)
That was the end of my time just at the beach. Tomorow I would pack up and move to the resort ON the beach, where my Bible conference would begin.

Day 89 of 100

2009-08-29T12:39:00.000-06:00

Here's yesterday's painting.

Yesterday was one of the most densely packed days I've had in a long time. Many many things to do, and even more to think about and figure out. My salvation was to turn to God and say, "This is Your show. Always has been. Always will be. I trust in You with all my heart, and I will stop trying to 'figure things out' on my own. I realize that dishonors You."

Based on that surrender, which I had to renew repeatedly throughout a day that lasted past midnight, I got so much good accomplished. Wonderful things falling into place for my aunt's upcoming move to a new assisted care facility,

a move that would appear to greatly improve her current situation.

On my own behalf, I was able to finally make some calls to roofers and insurance people, in order to take steps to take care of my home. It's been a struggle to accept living in this house alone, after an unwanted divorce. But I have finally turned some huge corners and am feeling a peace beyond anything I've felt in a long time.

Shared a very sweet few hours with a friend during the last part of the day. Only time to paint was when the friend stepped out of the house to make a quick phone call. I let the paint try to say all I was feeling. Then, just before bed, a few more layers were added. When I saw the finished product in today's bright morning light, I loved the rich fullness of the colors.

Truly it says what I was feeling yesterday.

Blessings to all who read this post. Leave me a note if you desire. I LOVE responses.

Day 88 of 100

2009-08-27T23:46:00.001-06:00

This is my second post for today--I'm finally caught up. Oh, wait . . . I still have to post the 15 days from when I was gone in June . . .

Gosh. I can't believe only 12 days remain in this challenge. What a difference this time has made in my painting life and in my "inner" life in general.

Today I just played again.

Wanted some sort of Aztec look. Didn't quite make it. But I love the colors.

Days 86 and 87 of 100

2009-08-27T12:26:00.000-06:00

I am blissfully astounded at all I'm reaping from this 100 in 100 challenge . . . and these are only the benefits I am as yet aware of . . . who knows what more lies just beneath the surface?

I have already shared the joy of needing painting in my daily life. I've shared painting my way past the horrid little inner critic muttering, "But is it GOOD enough???"

Day 86--Two days ago I discovered how healing certain color combinations are for me. Can't quite remember what was hard about that day, but I DO remember that I reached for beautiful, soft colors. They antidoted my upset.

I love the way they splooged on the page ("splooge" being a highly technical,

artsy-fartsy term used by REAL artists :))

Then yesterday--Day 87--a sort of disconnected day. I attended a lovely Volunteer Appreciation dinner and show, outdoors on a perfect summer evening. But I was alone, in the midst of many different family connections, and I came home, not sure yet where I fit into this world. It was time to do my 100 for the day, and I just let myself, once again, move instinctively.

The first part was the aquamaureen-colored moons . . . me thinking "big night sky" thoughts. Then, late in the evening, as summer dark settled in, flowers wanted to sprout. The stems--just light airy flicks of the brushtip. Petals, just splooshes with the brush tip (not to be confused with splooges :)). I loved just the blue and green, but something was missing . . . so the teeny dots of hot pink for the flower centers.

So, this odd pairing of images is telling me that I can find my place in the great big world by blooming, right here, right now. And, at the heart of AquaMaureen is luscious hot pink.

Pretty good for a day's work, don't you think????

Days 84 and 85 of 100

2009-08-24T20:28:00.000-06:00

Last couple days a little challenging. Still more work inside my home, wrestling through decades of possessions: sorting, selling, giving, trashing. Also sifting through relationships. Lots of prayer.

And through it all, the lovely constant of these daily paintings. So free from "should be" and "ought to." I rarely approach the page with any conscious preconception. I just let my hand pick up what it wants to, whatever brush, maybe the wax crayon, the spit straw. And the hands, directed by the heart, do their thing.

I do so love what has become a nearly effortless, wordless time of expression.

Day 84--couldn't get the photo to do justice to the luscious underwatery colors.

Day 85--after yesterday's swirls, I definitely wanted to try more lines.

All of this, just for the sheer enjoyment of it.

Day 83 of 100

2009-08-22T19:22:00.000-06:00

Today hasn't flowed quite as sweetly as yesterday. Still, I worked on the house some. Did some prep for Sunday church. Painted throughout the day.

Is it a mountain range?

A mouthful of dragon teeth?

Mindless doodling?

I'm not sure I know.

Day 82 of 100

2009-08-21T19:00:00.000-06:00

Had fun today painting. Actually had fun with the whole day and it's not over yet :)

Finally warm and clear after much rain and non-August type weather. I try to be happy in all kinds of weather, but my insides just sing in summertime.

I love the colors in today's painting--lemon and tangerine and olive . . . .

Swirled on wax resist first and then lemon yellow. Then applied more wax resist on top of yellow and then swirled on the orange . . .I loved the color combo, but the waxy designs looked like boobs . . . .so I swirled on some greeny stuff to break up the bosomy images . . . and ended up really liked THAT color combo. (this second picture isn't really the true colors--the close up changed the exposure or whatever. The first picture is more the actual colors of the painting)

Joy today. Amen.

Day 81 of 100

2009-08-20T20:50:00.000-06:00

Today was a test, I think, of my attitudes: could I REALLY be happy, just playing with color? Could I be happy, no matter which direction the painting took?

My heart and soul answered "Yes"--easily--to both questions.

That's a real mark of progress for me.

Amanda of PersistentGreen has made some exquisite marbled paper with purple and green--I saw a journal she covered with one piece of this and it just made my heart squeeze with happy.

So, that's what I wanted to try today. Except I forgot that she had the purple and green side-by-side and not on top of each other :) Consequently, my purple on top the green is pretty dark and sorta muddy . . . oh well, I 'll just try again another day :)

And my freeform random squiggles with the wax crayon left two green buggy eyes in the middle of the painting. The purple parts look sorta like a giant winged bat-like thingie . . .

oh well.

Day 80 of 100

2009-08-19T21:44:00.001-06:00

With all the boo-hooing I did today,

my painting amazed me

with its joyful purple and pink swirls.

Maybe deep inside, the part of me that paints without words knew how to hang onto happy.

Good for it. And for me.

Day 79 of 100

2009-08-18T15:19:00.000-06:00

Day 79 . . .oh my goodness. That number astounds me.

I can feel the final day, "100 of 100," rushing to meet me. . .

Today's painting was pure joy.

I wanted to play more with the wax resist crayon. I NEEDED to paint a sunrise.

This might sound crazy, but this combination of colors

makes me feel as well-fed, body and soul, as after a Thanksgiving dinner.

Day 74,75,76,77, & 78 of 100

2009-08-17T19:53:00.000-06:00

Yep, I've been painting every day. Nope, I obviously slacked off on posting. :)

I realize that many many people host yard sales, like my daughter and son and I just did this past weekend. But I think not everyone goes through their belongings to the degree that I am, in preparation for said sale. 16 years in one house. 35 years of memories from a failed marriage. Scads of supplies for 19 years of homeschooling, no longer needed since all three "children" have now graduated from college.

The physical effort has been, and is, immense. The emotional workout even more intense.

But wow. What a difference.

We are having another sale in three weeks, since we did not finish going through our houses. So likely, the next three weeks of paintings and postings might reflect that activity.

Interesting to, once again, be so tired some days and yet still NEED to do the daily painting. NOT out of obligation, but because this sort of expression has now become part of the fabric of daily life for me.

Day 74--usually all my "one way" designs run left to right. I made myself do something different here. Don't particularly care for the finished product, but the purpose was more to pry myself away from always painting from a certain direction.

Day 75--much softer picture than I usually do. Played with painting very lightly and then light washes . . . I'm pretty sure I prefer the more dramatic ones from other days.

Day 76--Really really like the colors in this, and the bursts at the bottom

Day 77--LOVE the wax resist part and the color bleeds.

I could just wallow in the orange/yellow/red.

Day 78--Was more intentional with the designs with the wax crayon. REally love the colors. The picture doesn't quite capture the turquoisy shades in the original.

This turned out to be one of my favorites so far.

Days 71,72, and 73 of 100

2009-08-12T14:22:00.000-06:00

The past couple weeks I've not managed to post my art every day. Life is very full, and on some days, I just chose to do something other than post.

But I HAVE chosen to paint every day. That is what has made the most impact on me in this challenge. The first significant step was giving myself the freedom to play. But as the days rolled on, I found that I NEEDED to paint each day, in order for the day to feel complete. That is the feeling that has endured. And it's rippled out: as of August 1st, my print journal turned into an art journal; Little signs and reminders around the house are painted; when I'm not quite sure what to do next, I often drift to my art table and something gets color splopped onto it.

I love this. And I also wonder: with not quite 30 days left in the challenge, what other changes might evolve in my life, related to my playing with watercolors every day?

Day 71--I tried a more watery approach to my favorite blow-through-a-straw technique.

Day 72--Tuesday's offering is a teaser. To see the whole piece, click on over to http://thursdaysweettreat.blogspot.com/ and see how a gifted bunch of artists responded to "purple passion" as their creative prompt.

Day 73--I really like today's work. Not a single conscious intent guided me when I started--I just splooshed around with my favorite "aquamaureen" shades . . . .and then, lo and behold, to MY eye, the finished piece is Maureen's version of a Mercator-style map, showing my dream world . . . where most everything is ocean or beachfront land . . . where days are sun-kissed and nights moon-sparkled . . . and where cabana boys LOVE to bring me juicy fresh fruit . . . hey, a girl can dream, can't she???

Days 69 and 70 of 100

2009-08-09T16:50:00.001-06:00

I am holding onto joy these past couple of days. God has directed me to NOT journal about the rough moments. Rather, He wants me to come directly to Him, work it out with Him, and then LET IT GO.

Easier said than done. I'm doing the best I can. Have needed to go to God frequently these past few days. Going through boxes and boxes of STUFF all through my house and finding what feels like an unending stream of broken dreams. I'm working on clearing out my home, and the end of it all will be wonderful, but the process is HARD.

In being obedient to God's urging to NOT write about these feelings, I have found much solace in the daily paintings.

Day 69

I have no clue what they are "about." I just know that I sit, reach for the colors that seem to call to me, and then apply them in ways that something deep inside me tells me to.

Day 70

I think it's safe to say that that deep thing inside me is INSISTING on beauty and harmony.

As I was typing up this post, another wave of tears swamped me. I reached out to God and asked for help, right now. He spoke to me through the words of a hymn: "Holy Spirit, source of gladness, Come with all Thy radiance bright; Lift all burdens and all sadness; O'er Thy children shed Thy light." Thank You, God.

Day 68 of 100

2009-08-07T20:48:00.000-06:00

Happy day. Volunteered. Studied the Bible with a friend in preparation for Sunday. Worked in the deepest, dustiest, buggiest part of my house: The Cellar. Threw away lots. Got more for upcoming yard sale. The amount of stuff Down There seemed Way Too Big to manage at first, especially since the cellar is only a "half" floor, meaning I have to bend over at the waist the whole time. But a little voice said, "Just one box at a time. Just one box. You can do it."

So I did. Got maybe a dozen or 15 boxes gone through.

Wriggled my way out, washed up some, and then painted.

Painted happy.

Yahoo.

Days 65,66, and 67 of 100

2009-08-06T21:20:00.000-06:00

I've still painted each day. Honestly, I'm pretty proud of that. But daily posting has been beyond me. This week is the world-famous Sturgis Bike Rally that brings several hundred thousand visitors to our cluster of very small towns.

I, like many others, volunteer quite a bit during this time.

Add in some frighteningly beautiful thunder and lightning storms (which require unplugging one's computer, rendering one unable to post daily paintings!).

Stir in the daily ongoing challenges of living life with as much dignity and love and joy and compassion as one can manage.

The result: slipping behind on posting and reading other blogs, email, laundry, cleaning, etc etc.

Day 65--I painted a very NOT ROYGBIV rainbow. Just 'cause that's the way I wanted to do it. Then, that night, I volunteered at a concert whose middle section was rained out. The end of the show was graced with a spectacular double rainbow . . .

Day 66--lots of things felt very out of balance to me. But I hung on to my signature aquamaureen colors, painting the swirls I was feeling caught in, and kept the center calm and still and very dense and strong.

Day 67--more play with the wax resist stick. Sunshine colors. Just played.

Day 64 of 100

2009-08-03T23:06:00.000-06:00

Ooh, I really really had fun today. You'll only get a teaser photo, 'cause this piece is my submission for ThursdaySweetTreat's prompt of "over the moon."

Check in therehttp://thursdaysweettreat.blogspot.com/ sometime on Thursday

if you want to see the whole painting . . .

Day 63 of 100

2009-08-03T22:59:00.000-06:00

Had fun today. Tried wax resist stick for the first time. Played with the rigger.

Ya know what's awful? I can hear this teeny weeny voice whispering,

"Play? THAT'S all you do when you paint? Just play???"

Yes, actually, it is.

And Teeny Weeny Voice, I mean this in the nicest way possible,

but please, shut up.

Really.

Day 62 of 100

2009-08-01T21:23:00.000-06:00

Sweet day.

Productive day.

Tired day, but in a very good way.

Day 61 of 100

2009-08-01T00:02:00.000-06:00

Here is today's offering, hot off the presses. Or I guess, more accurately, wet off the presses.

My favorite is this closeup, still juicy wet. Kinda overflowing like this day has been.

I've held back from much creative writing for weeks. Intense journaling got me through some rough personal growth. Much time has been spent sorting and moving my belongings, as I transform my house from a former home for my family, into a place just for me and my art.

These past 60 days I've reveled in daily painting.

It has been a touchstone on often wavery and unsure days.

Today the writing just couldn't be contained. A call for submissions, for which I could, at best, have only one piece accepted, has caused me to edit and submit two previously written pieces. Another 2000 words of a fresh story is ready to be revised, and as I painted today's offering from 11pm until midnight, I jotted down a rough draft of a fourth piece.

Yep. Juicy and overflowing. And I love it.

Day 60 of 100

2009-07-30T23:27:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was rough. That showed in my post for that day.

I held on to love. My special tear-off calendar for 7/29 had perfect wisdom for me:

Hope can keep us from becoming bitter and angry

when things are less than perfect.

Nurture the soft spot in your heart where hope abides.

I did just that.

Today was lovely and love-filled.

Today's calendar quote from J.B. Priestly left little doubt as to what I would paint today.

"I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day,

a fresh try, one more start,

with perhaps a bit of magic

waiting somewhere behind the morning."

Love to you all, with hopes that you too find something special just for you,

waiting somewhere behind the morning.

Day 59 of 100

2009-07-29T22:18:00.000-06:00

Hard day today. Off-kilter. Really had to hang onto love.

So I painted hearts.

The little baby heart in the corner won't give up.

Neither will I.

Day 58 of 100

2009-07-28T17:49:00.000-06:00

My main "purpose" all throughout today was art. Not sure that has ever been the focus of one of my days (I'm not counting writing here, although I most certainly consider THAT as "art.")

I caught up on several days of posting my 100s, did today's, worked in another artjournal, worked on a journal cover, and painted a card to accompany a gift.

That last task really taught me something. I was giving a check towards an item a new mommy wanted to buy and I thought I'd paint a picture to illustrate the baby bike trailer she was saving for. I've said before that I am NOT a representational artist--I can laboriously draw out something, but sketching is NOT my forte. I have other gifts, just not that one. But I have had some success lately in sketching a very loose picture and that's what I thought I'd try.

Well, I wish I'd thought to take a picture of it before it got all wrapped up to give, because then you'd believe me when I say that IT DID NOT WORK AS A PAINTING. I'm not being coy here, or dismissive of beginning efforts. This piece just did not work. None of the lines or shapes came out quick or true . . .they just did not.

And here is the wonderful lesson I discovered: it didn't matter. I had fun trying, and I am very comfortable giving it as the background for the gift (the check is rolled up and tied in as part of the picture.) Yes, sure, I would have liked for this to be one of those times when WOOHOO!--magic strikes and I produce something beyond what I thought I could. But I didn't. And it was still perfectly fine. Now THAT'S a woohoo moment for me!

This project (thank you SO much, Rowena, for the idea) has really brought me into a level of comfort and JOY with painting that I hadn't imagined possible.

No surprise that I felt very free to try a "scene" for today's effort. I liked what came out.

We are now more than half-way through our 100 days. My first journal bulges with my work. I'm still stunned to flip through this little book and see so much joyful experimentation.

Who knows what will be produced in the last half of our time????

Days 53, 54, 55, 56, and 57 of 100

2009-07-28T12:29:00.000-06:00

Time to catch up. I've been painting every day, but obviously, not posting. The past few days have included some hard physical work, some harder emotional work, and some deep deep praying.

Painting throughout that time wasn't hard at all. It seemed utterly natural. But I avoided the computer, because it represented more busyness than I could handle.

I think I'm back now to daily posting. We'll see. I like to offer my painting each day, because it seems to make a nice "sign-off" to the day's efforts. I came across a Victor Hugo quote recently: "When you have . . . accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake." Isn't that a peace-inducing thought?

Here's Day 53. I like the color here, and the line work.

Day 54. Still playing with the line work. This is a busy-er picture . . .

Day 55. Spirals were calling out to me. The stuff I was working out personally seemed like a tornado. I think I was experimenting with the swirls to see if I could see some direction and purpose there.

Day 56 was when I found some shaky peace with what I was dealing with in my life. I just played with color. At first the applications seemed shaky and woobly--(technical term, there :). But at the end, I liked that no matter how out-of-focus my moments might seem, at the end they still make beautiful colors and patterns together.

Day 57. Not sure if this is more spiralling, or "eye of the storm"--it didn't come out as I'd envisioned. All I know is that that is me, at the deepest, darkest center, and the dark is not "dark," but solid and sure.

I continue to be amazed at how this project has introduced me to painting as a way of wordless expression. I am quite loving it.

Day 52 of 100

2009-07-22T23:25:00.000-06:00

Long day.

I'm pooped.

Gonna be brief here.

This is my submission for http://thursdaysweettreat.blogspot.com/, but I just read that due to a family emergency, the Thursday post will be delayed. So I'm just gonna go ahead and post the whole image here. But I hope you do go visit TST--you'll meet some incredibly gifted artists.

Today I just played with blue. Three different shades. Did my old favorite of spitblowing on the drops with a straw. Used my rigger to squiggle in some other lines.

No particular purpose or design to this piece. Just blue.

And play.

Day 51 of 100

2009-07-21T21:26:00.000-06:00

Lovely day today. Seems fitting for the first day of the second half of this project.

I had an idea. I implemented several "techniques" discovered during the first 50 days. And the piece came out kinda sorta as I'd envisioned, only better.

Laid down a variegated wash first--liked using my round brush instead of the flat. Laid in plops of the same color, only less diluted, for "petals." Had some of the images continue "off the page." Used the rigger pretty loosely for delineations after.

I quite like the finished product, both the full picture and the closeups.

Wonderful feeling of having traveled quite a distance in these first 50+ days of this artistic challenge.

Thank you, Rowena, for gifting us with this idea.

Day 50 of 100

2009-07-20T23:29:00.000-06:00

Oh.

My.

Goodness.

Day 50. Halfway through. Truly, I'm amazed.

And today's painting is a pretty good one to demonstrate the strength of this project. A few days ago, I got excited about using my rigger for a certain effect. Yesterday, I actually got just what I'd hoped for. Couldn't wait to try more today.

Except it didn't turn out as I'd envisioned. As I'd hoped. And that's okay. That's all part of this easy, play-with-it feeling.

That's what I commmitted to at the very beginning: for 100 days I would PLAY with watercolors.

If I ever lose that sense of play, I've lost the guiding force behind this project, at least as I have defined it personally. And playing includes falling down and getting dirty and getting back up again.

This painting didn't turn out as I'd hoped. I don't particularly "like" it. But when I created it, I was playing. Truly playing. And that's a very good thing.

Day 49 of 100 and Bonus

2009-07-19T23:09:00.000-06:00

I knew today I wanted to use my rigger and try some more squiggly lines . . . but what?

Ah, trees.

So I painted a background. . . .only I got a little carried away and the background got a little too representational for the kinds of trees I had in mind.

And then, the background got a little wackadoodle, with mountains coming before grasses . . .so this became my First Official Do-over. But since I'm valuing every step of progress, the wackadoodle gets its 15 seconds of fame here.

Next attempt pleased me much more. Suggestive background with blends of green.

Then the trees.

Oh, I quite liked this section. Made me gasp. It was exactly what I'd tried to imagine but couldn't quite, until I saw it on the page. Feels really good to have a YES reaction.

Bonus: I painted an anniversary card for my son and his wife for their 5th anniversary.

Inside reads: two hearts, one love.

Day 48 of 100

2009-07-18T23:55:00.000-06:00

Worked all day in my yard. Manual labor. Felt really good.

Around noon, I passed by my written journal and got the sense

that it was okay to write in it again, which I did.

I think the past couple days has pushed me into realizing that I'm not painting just for fun. That I have "something to say" when I paint. Or maybe the painting has something to say to me.

Halfway through the day I painted a purple circle. No clue what else was gonna come.

Then later, I realized it was a full moon. So I painted sky around it.Yeah, I know. Moons aren't purple. Well, in MY world, they can be purple :)

Bonus Features

2009-07-17T23:43:00.000-06:00

Somehow on Day 45 I screwed up my email submission to ThursdaySweetTreat and it didn't arrive. Heck, it didn't even show up in my "sent" file.

Who knows. I guess I blinked the wrong way.

Anyhoo, here is the whole picture that I did NOT show on this blog for that day.

I just know y'all been dyin' to see it!!

Also, if you checked out my post for Day 47, you know this was a day I did NOT write in my journal, for reasons currently unknown to myself.

But I DID make a note to myself, and instinctively painted it.

It's going into my car somewhere to serve as a reminder for something I'm going to be doing when I'm out and about. Typically this sort of thing would be taken care of with a bright colored sticky note and my favorite gel pen. But no, only paint would do today.

Day 47 of 100

2009-07-17T23:25:00.000-06:00

Not sure what's going on. Since noon yesterday, I haven't written a single word in my journal. And LOTS has been going on. The sort of stuff I normally feel compelled to capture in some sort of written fashion--to sort it out, make sense, wonder.

But no. Since yesterday's painting, with the black squiggly "letters" at the end, I have not been able to pick up my journal. It almost feels like when you try to put the "wrong" sides of two magnets together--you'd swear something invisible was getting in the way of those two magnets making contact.

As soon as I thought of today's painting, I knew it would be more black squiggles.

I just "listened," and then painted.

Had to have a background--blue for endless sky. Painted it horizontally on the page. When I picked up my rigger and carbon black ink and was ready to "write," I knew to turn the page a quarter-turn. I'd thought the horizontal lines in the sky color would be the lines I'd write along.

Turns out I was supposed to write in columns, between vertical lines.

I did most of the writing in one sitting. Went back a few hours later, looked at it,

and then added a few dots and a couple very short lines.

I have NO CLUE what it "says." I just know that I look at it and feel comforted.

I am way into unfamiliar territory right now. I would have thought I'd feel adrift without writing in my journal, especially since some very significant things have happened in the last 24 hours.

But for right now, painting in a non-verbal style of expression is profoundly moving to me.

Maybe I'm nuts. Maybe not. But I sure feel something deep down,

that is brandnew and wonderful.

That's good enough for me.