A 61 day creative practice - ICAD Day 1

 

I knew I had been saving those Index cards for a good reason - if only I could remember where I'd 'safely' stored them! 

Sometimes we need a prompt to kick start our creativity or remind us that it's a simple practice that needn't take much effort, expensive supplies or be something worthy of an art gallery!

The nudge that came from the Universe (or rather my friend Marie Goodwyn) was ICAD! An Index Card a Day throughout June and July - nothing fancy and entirely up to the individual what they create. 

Now here was an opportunity to get stuck in and sticky, to pull out all those scraps of paper, threads, feathers, buttons and bows and put them .... well, somewhere else! Yes, no need to throw anything away that has been gathering dust for years - just repurpose into art!

So, for the past couple of weeks I have been doing just that. I thought it might be fun to push myself with random prompts garnered from opening the first book that came to hand that day and finding a word or phrase to give me pause for thought and open my creative mind.

Day 1 - Timeless Texture. 

I confess not much thought went into this. I even found a somewhat obvious image of a clock. I think I was just too excited to start. First to be grabbed was some sandpaper which led eventually to glitter. Now that is timeless. Who doesn't love a bright shiny thing? Is ICAD a bright shiny? Will it continue to fascinate for the next 61 days? Now that is the question!

Nature's lessons

If I didn't have dogs there's no way I would be out in cold, damp early mornings or the dark chill of a winter's afternoon.

I would be hunkered down in the warmth and probably not even particularly interested in what was going on outside of the window.

But now though you'll find me wrapped in layers, trudging through the mud and putting up with the icicles forming on the end of my nose.

As well as the obvious enjoyment of being out with my pups and revelling in their joy at being alive, I have come to develop a renewed appreciation of all that Mother Nature offers us, whatever the season.

Having previously dismissed winter as providing little in the way of natural interest unless Mr Jack Frost had been out waving his frozen fingers of magic across the landscape or we'd had a dump of fresh snow, I have learned to notice and appreciate the little nuances as we make our slow shift through the seasons.

Take yesterday for example, I spotted this thick covering of lichen on an oak branch. The colours and textures striking brightly against the foggy backdrop. It set me exploring - a mini adventure among the boughs as I hunted for more to be captured by my camera.

There are always a few brown leaves hanging around at this time of year - reluctant to drop to earth and become mush and mulch. I admire their audacity to rebel against everything that the season throws at them, clinging on through wind, rain and frozen temperatures as if they feel the need to retain their owner's identity - to shout out - "look at me - I'm an oak tree!"

Look closer and you'll find all manner of textural treats and shapes on something as simple as a leaf. Tiny holes with which to peek through or small galls. Every leaf seems to have its own story to tell just as each walk proves to be a new adventure. 

Where will you go today?

Strange things are happening to me

 It's still dark outside, though the first fingers of dawn are tapping at the curtains. I am awake. Again.

The now all too familiar tingle has begun to work its way through my body, a body that is no longer my own. I am possessed. The person I was is disappearing at a rate that scares me. Change fires up my neurons. "Take action" my brain yells. "Stop this thing." But I know I can't. Perhaps it is possible to slow it down, but I don't know how. The alien that is inside me saps my energy to move let alone fight. I am befuddled and frightened. 

I sink beneath the warmth of the duvet to seek comfort in sleep but it does not come to my aid.

Eventually I drag my weary body to the surface and begin my day. I creak. The pain in my joints slowly dissipates but never all the way. It lingers, reminding me it is there. It began in my hips but now my knees, shoulders and elbows have joined in. They throb. Just a few weeks ago I was leaping out of bed to exercise but now this malaise has united with the long-present mood swings, grey hairs and erratic periods.

The name of my foe is Peri-Menopause. This latest attack on my joints has come seemingly out of the blue. It wakes me at night and drags at me throughout the day. Mentally I still feel 30, but sadly my body is feeling every one of my 50 years.

Please tell me it gets better!

Muddy Paws the Great Dog Detective – the ear-y case of the missing Wednesday treats

A bit of fun - a bedtime story I wrote for my pups!

Muddy stretched his paws and arched his back easing out the knots of the day. It had been a busy one with a lost poodle found safely – silly girl had gotten herself locked in a shed after hiding from a cat. Seriously! He’d taken the trouble to see the cat off personally, it would be a while before it dared show its feline face in Daisy’s garden again – all part of the service and rather fun with it!

He was readying himself for a nap when a sharp bark announced a visitor to his detective establishment.

He cocked his ears in recognition. Why, if it wasn’t his good friend Molly! He was rather fond of this particular Golden Retriever. He had to admit that her locks and looks were rather compelling, but she was also pretty adorable in most ways. He was a bit smitten! He greeted her with a sniff and some serious tail wagging.

“How can I help you my dear Mollster?” he enquired with a cock of his head. “Or is this merely a social call?” Muddy rather hoped it was the latter. A snooze by the fire with Molly by his side would be most agreeable.

“Somebody keeps stealing my pigs’ ears!” announced his friend. “Every time my humans open the cupboard on Wednesdays…. That’s pigs ear day….. They have mysteriously disappeared!”

Muddy was shocked to the tip of his tail. This was most serious. The theft of a dog’s treat was not to be taken lightly – particularly if this was turning out to be a regular horror. He resolved to take the case immediately. “Leave it with me,” he declared. “I will give it my immediate attention.”

In fact, Muddy had a sneaking suspicion he knew who the culprit was and, picking up a bone to chew over the problem, he retreated to his favourite patch of floor by the fireplace to think things through while Molly headed home.

It was a source of constant surprise to Muddy how much the simple act of gnawing on a bone could help his cognitive process.

After giving his teeth and appetite a whet, Muddy pulled himself up to his not inconsiderable height – he was after all a quarter Great Dane and, putting his best paw forward (that would be front left), he headed out the door on the trail of the thieving culprit.

Following the delectable scent left by the deliciously delightful Molly he headed over to the abode she shared with her humans, canine brother in mischief, Gunner – a somewhat exuberant and rather well-built German Shepherd and a member of the lesser species known as cat.

Gunner greeted Muddy with his usual noise and enthusiasm. Muddy gave him a hard stare that knocked some of that out of him.

“What? Why?” stammered the big beast. Muddy looked deeply into the Shepherd’s brown eyes and slowly said two words. “Pigs ears”. He was testing the waters to see if his suspicions were well-founded. Gunner reacted not with the guilt that Muddy was expecting, instead his face reflecting the same level of consternation as his sister.

“Have you found who stole our pigs’ ears?” Gunner whimpered. Muddy immediately realized his mistake. In his rush to impress Molly, he had forgotten the first rule of detective work – gather all the available facts! He has failed to ask that all important question around if Molly herself had questioned her brother. Clearly, given the look of innocence on his whiskers, he was another victim of the dastardly thief. Muddy was back to the drawing board without so much as a pencil to scribble a theory!

All this consternation he kept to himself though. Instead, he merely sniffed the air to give the indication that he was about important detective business and followed his nose to the treat cupboard where there was alarming scent of cat lurking about. Could he have found the culprit now?

The fiend herself chose that moment to slink through the cat flap. She gave Muddy a look of disdain before beating a hasty retreat to the counter top and hissing at him. Muddy sighed. When would cats learn that they were the inferior species and should be neither seen nor heard? He took a risk and sniffed her, receiving a swipe to his nose in the process. Other than the pervading feline odour which was enough to put any self-respecting dog off his dinner, there was nothing porcine about her. Plus given her size, he did wonder at her capacity to devour one piggies ear, let alone two. Another dead end. This case was turning out to be most troublesome.

At that moment, one of the humans arrived home. As is tradition in the world of woof, much excitement was required to be demonstrated together with a chorus of questions as to why the four-legged members of the household had been abandoned for weeks, months or was it just a few hours? Muddy hid under the table – his presence in the house may have required some explanation which dogs struggle to communicate to their humans, them not yet aware that dogs have careers, let alone ones as detectives. Within a few minutes though the mayhem had eased down a decibel or two and Muddy was able to assess the situation from the shadows. His hound’s nose had detected something rather important that was lurking at the bottom of a shopping bag. Mixed with the scents of tripe, liver and marrowbone was the unmistakable odour of pig! A new supply of ears had arrived. This would be the perfect opportunity to catch the thief in action! He settled down to watch and wait. Fortunately for Muddy it was Wednesday and not Thursday or that could have been a long and hungry stake out!

The female human busied herself in the kitchen. Muddy did not take his eyes off her. A quantity of meat that set Muddy’s saliva glands drooling found a home in the freezer with a tempting pile also left out to reach room temperature. Muddy was glad he was such a trustworthy dog, or he’d be needing to investigate himself for theft! He studiously ignored the gourmet meal defrosting in front of his fangs and refocused his attention on the human. She opened the treat cupboard and in went the bones…

Muddy was vaguely aware of the sound of an engine approaching but failed to realise the significance of the noise until both Molly and Gunner erupted in a further cacophony of barking and bemoaning their abandonment. Poor Muddy’s hit head the underside of the table as he leapt in shock. By the time he had regained his composure and the stars circling his ears had retreated back to the sky, the shopping had all been unpacked and both humans were staring at the picture box in the corner of the room with dogs draped over them in supplicated joy. An ideal time for a thief to strike thought Muddy. He began his stakeout in earnest. The culprit would be caught and held to account – Muddy was determined and when he was in this frame of mind nothing would get in his way!

“Did you give the dogs their pig ears?” asked the male human of the female. “No, I just put them away” she replied. “I actually forgot it was Wednesday!” The man moaned a bit then creaked his body into a standing position and shuffled into the kitchen in the direction of the cupboard. Muddy was confident that all would be well. This week at least Molly and Gunner would be chewing happily on the greasy gristle.

However, Muddy could not have been more wrong! The human was rummaging in the cupboard for far too long. He pulled out biscuits and bones and even food for the cat. Muddy couldn’t believe his whiskers. The pigs ears had gone again – and right under his nose! It couldn’t be happening! His reputation would be in tatters. Not only had he failed to apprehend the criminal but had allowed them to strike while he was on duty. He was so flabbergasted that he forgot his stealth mission and broke cover much to the confusion of the humans who had never met a dog detective before, let alone one of Muddy’s standing and size.

Of course, a situation such as this required a great deal of barking and it took a while for the humans to realise that Muddy was friend rather than foe. Thankfully Molly’s wagging tail helped eventually convince them of this fact; that and the fact that Gunner was sucking his bear and not the life out of Muddy. Just to be on the safe side, Muddy also employed his big soft-eyed look and rolled over on his back presenting his ample belly for a tickle. In fact, this tactic was so successful that it resulted in the somewhat surprising solving of the case and, more importantly, something rather delicious for Muddy.

The female human was so taken by Muddy’s behaviour that she offered to fetch him a pig’s ear! Seems that she had discovered something of a glut of them in the house. Unbeknown to anyone else in the family, she had – for reasons which are the sole preserve of the female human species and remain a mystery to both dogs and men alike – CHANGED THE PLACE WHERE THE PIGS EARS WERE KEPT! And worse, she had put them inside an airtight container thus hiding both sight and smell of the Wednesday treats. There was no and never had been a thief!

For some time after there was no sound in the house but the contented chewing of three large ears. Shortly after that, Muddy’s humans appeared at the door having been summoned by calling his office number (worn proudly on his collar). He bade his farewells to his hosts promising to keep an eye out for his pals in the park over the coming days when they could relive the tale and taste of the adventure!

As he settled into the warm and slightly smelly comfort of his bed that night, Muddy reflected on the day and the mysterious behaviour of humans. Frankly he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to put a pig’s ear anywhere other than in a dog’s mouth in the first place but his was not to reason why! He gave a big yawn and a sleepy wag of his tail, rested his head on his tatty stuffed bear – called Sherlock naturally – and fell fast asleep!

The End.

 

Say what?

 Three years since I last blogged? Surely not!

Seems I fell through the space and time continuum because I would have said no more than 18 months tops. But then again, this lack of time awareness is rather commonplace these days. I blame turning 50 earlier this year. I'm in denial.

That's another matter that needs addressing. Where did that half century sneak up from? I certainly don't conform to my view of what a middle-aged woman looked like when I stared ahead into the future 30 years ago! 

No frumpy clothes and Woman's Weekly for me - who cares if I look like mutton dressed as lamb (I don't think I do - just to be clear.... but even if I did - if it makes me happy then why not!).

I have taken myself away to perform the proverbial 'finding of oneself'. It is the time of the Corona and with another lockdown looming, I have escaped from the temptations of housework, gym and grocery shopping to lock myself away to write and let a bit of creative flow loose.

It's amazing what a troublesome companion Procrastination can be. She whispers in your ear to check your emails, log on to a game on your phone, scroll through your Instagram feed, put some washing on... anything but actually tackle the elephant in the room - the one sitting on the keyboard getting in the way! I used to be able to just sit down and write but good habits are easily broken and this putting fingers to keyboard for pleasure has become a whole lot harder than it used to be.

Of course, not all distractions from writing are bad. On the contrary, family time, doggie walks and exercising are a tonic in and of themselves.

However, writing used to bring such joy - mixed in with a bit of art making and I was a happy lass. Does playing time-wasting games on my phone provide the same pleasure? Not a jot. Is it easier. Well of course. Writing has become the route less-travelled. It is full of tangled weeds that need to be hacked through and I am here armed with machete - albeit a trifle tentatively at the moment.

Let's see what happens!

Was it me? It was wasn't it? Surely it must be...

This happens to me a lot and I know I'm not alone in this ridiculous belief.

Imagine the scene, you're reading a friend's social media post (because frankly that's how most of us communicate with friends these days), or you're actually talking in person. They talk about how they had been let down by someone and, like a flick of the switch in the self-deprecating part of our psyche, your immediate reaction is "Was it me? Oh, no... it was me wasn't it... I've forgotten to do something... It must be me".

And, even after a swift sift through your recent interactions you cannot for the life of you remember committing to anything, it remains like a solid heffalump of woozelness squashing your sense of self-worth and convincing of the shocking nature of your interpersonal skills.

You leave the post convinced you are a terrible person. After all, not only have you omitted from helping a friend in need but you've completely emptied your memory of offering to do so in the first place. Seriously what kind of friend are you?

You pen a quick note in panic, begging for forgiveness and offering to make up all ills whilst your subconscious bangs her head against the desk and calls you a total idiot and tries to suggest that the only person you've let down is actually yourself!

A break in ordinary service

In certain sections of society it's just fine and dandy to drop your 'aitches. If my keyboard had a broken H then my writing might stand up to scrutiny and I might never have gone down a thought process so packed with depth and meaning. However, since it's missing another key then I am forced to exist without 'ove and 'aughter. I can't even write my own name. I have become isa. This author isa what? Now there hangs the question.

I jotted down a substantive set of descriptives in my notebook focusing on my very existence. What am I?

It wasn't the type of reading that at first packed a punch of joy. I appeared doused with doubt, but I guess that's to be expected as I anticipate the next steps in my career. I must never forget though that I am an Artist, a Writer and a Creative. These aspects of me exist deep within my psyche. Yet, I know that I am too a prize procrastinator. I absorb distraction as I miss the meaty tasks of the average workday. I require a new job, a set of instructions but with the chance to be proactive, to expand and venture into the new, to experiment and push, to grab at opportunity and stretch my wings once again.

I have much to offer. Come take it!

With the few exceptions that I used to bring attention to the missing key, I have forced my brain to write without using the missing 'thing', digging into my thesaurus memory banks. It's been instructive and a somewhat fun exercise. I suggest you give it a try sometime! It's quite the task.

Ever feel like a fraud?

Image credit: Arvin Febry via Unsplash.com

Impostor syndrome is a concept describing high-achieving individuals who are marked by an inability to internalise their accomplishments and a persistent fear of being exposed as a ‘fraud’. It’s a limiting belief based on fear, a nasty little trick of the out-dated lizard brain that is actually trying to help but instead is a complete hindrance. It kicks in as a form of protection - being good is scary because it's hard work and with that comes an element of risk. Impostor syndrome flies in to rescue you in the face of danger!

Research suggests that over 70% of the population have experienced this inability to internalise our success at some point in our lives and that list includes a list of the great and the good or, as they think of themselves, ‘a bunch of frauds’ – international best-selling author Neil Gaiman, activist and author Maya Angelou, actresses Meryl Streep, Emma Watson & Jodie Foster, genius Albert Einstein, businesswoman Sheryl Sandberg … the list goes on, and yes I’m in there too (well not the great and the good!) – in fact I thought I invented it!

“I have written eleven books, but each time I think, uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.”  

Maya Angelou

The typical scenario sees a successful person gaining a promotion, getting their work published or receiving praise and adulation. Being in this position can be a little nerve-wracking as most of us are hard-wired to want to keep it up, we can’t quite believe we made it, we compare ourselves to others and worry about how they perceive us. We expect at any moment to be ‘found out’. Sufferers might then either work harder, earn more praise and set the cycle going again or undervalue themselves.

The daemon did it

Sometimes the syndrome takes a new angle. Frequently I’ve read back over a piece of work I laboured over months ago and can’t quite believe that it came out of my own fingertips. I believe it’s because of our inner genius, our muse, or whatever you want to call it. I first became aware of this phenomenon while listening to Liz Gilbert’s incredible TED lecture. She explains that the Greeks and Romans believed that creativity wasn’t something that came FROM us, but rather it came TO us in the form of what they called our genius or daemon – an entity that, like a guardian angel, was assigned to us and could be equally blamed for our works of art and our creative madness – a bit like an invisible friend I guess. (Read more on the Genius/Daemon here)

Liz encourages our belief in this genius for our own sanity so we can then steer clear of the route of the tortured artist. After all, it’s far easier to blame your Muse for taking a holiday than to believe you just can’t birth a new idea or feel the desire to pick up a paintbrush again.

Likewise if this other entity had a part in your success, then maybe that’s the reason we suffer from Imposter Syndrome or have no recollection of creating a piece of work. We didn’t. Our genius did it!

Brain dump

Impostor Syndrome is yet another form of interruption and distraction. The brain can be a peculiar organ, it seems to delight in feeding our conscious with a million and one other thoughts than the one we need at that precise moment. Right now I am thinking three steps ahead in this article while also wondering if I’ve got any new emails, checking the time for my next coaching call and itching to check my most recent post on Facebook to see if there’s any new conversation. Err, where was I?

By inviting in all those distracting thoughts we also welcomed their best mate – anxiety. We step outside of flow, lose concentration and fret about items outside of our current remit.

We may be tempted to tone ourselves down, play it safe, miss out on opportunity. I am guilty for playing it safe for years - wrapped up in a cosy comfort blanket of familiarity, ease and repetition. I stopped believing in myself. Eventually the cashmere turned to horsehair though and I came out in a nasty rash. I knew I was capable of more.

Impostor Syndrome is just another distraction sent to try us, but fear not, there are ways to control the beast!

How to get over it

1. Share it! I had no idea Impostor Syndrome was even a thing until I read about it in a magazine and saw myself in those eye-opening paragraphs! Talk about your experiences with your friends and peers and laugh at how silly we are all being! Convince others of their worth and they will surely help you see through your own  unfounded feelings of inadequacy.
2. Make a list of your achievements. We give our failures far more memory than we should so sometimes our wins (even the small ones) need a helping hand to make it to the hall of fame.
3. Keep a folder of emails where colleagues and friends have given you praise for a job well done – I call mine ‘Nice Things’. Read them over and over until you actually believe what they are saying! I think the most powerful are those from work colleagues or strangers on social media who are unlikely to bolster the truth and your ego in the way you mother might! Read through them when struck by fear and doubt. Give yourself a well-deserved warm and fuzzy feeling!
4. Accept that you played a part! A big part! Whether or not you believe in the idea of a divine force sneaking into your subconscious and crafting your magnum opus, it was still YOU! I give you permission to give yourself a little pat on the back for a job well done. Remind yourself that if you did it once, you can again.
5. Be present. Lock the door to distraction and imposter syndrome – you might find that a simple visioning meditation will do the trick, or just count backwards from five to zero to switch your focus. 
6. Watch for the pause. Self-doubt can kick in at any time so get in the habit of noticing the types of situations when it is most likely to occur and be bold and leap in ahead. Make your decisions count.
7. Embrace and trust in your inner genius – there’s a perfectly formed space right inside of you where she sits and once there you work as a team. There’s magic inside of you – go make it and believe in it and yourself. In all likelihood it won't be easy, but face the pain bravely and work through it.
8. Look for the positive. Impostor syndrome prevents hubris, keeps us questioning our own ability and takes us on an upward curve of continuous improvement. After all, if we believed in ourselves too completely we might feel too safe, only to discover we were swimming in a sea of sharks without an armoured wetsuit!

 Now, onwards and upwards! Grabbling with the beast of Impostor Syndrome is one of the topics we could discuss together as part of a coaching session. Let me know if I could help.

“The Fraud Police are the imaginary, terrifying force of 'real' grown-ups who you believe - at some subconscious level - are going to come knocking on your door in the middle of the night, saying: We've been watching you, and we have evidence that you have NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE DOING. You stand accused of the crime of completely winging it, you are guilty of making shit up as you go along, you do not actually deserve your job, we are taking everything away and we are TELLING EVERYBODY.”

Musician, Amanda Palmer

Lettuce not panic

In between all the Trump coverage and Beyoncé's twins there slipped a devastating piece of news for the British public. It appears that the salad crops are failing in Spain (due to the rain on the plain) and henceforth all iceberg lettuce will be rationed and courgettes will be sold on the gold markets due to their new value #courgettecrisis.

Supermarkets are only allowing you to buy three, yes that's right a meagre three  lettuces per person per day! My goodness disaster is upon us. Apparently the rationing is to stop Gordon Ramsey and friends raiding the supermarkets when the wholesalers run out in case they have a run on prawn cocktail.

Everyone knows what a rich source of fibre and vitamins the iceberg is - we will have scurvy and rickets before the week is out. I fear for the nation and the nation fears for itself. Callers have been flooding the Jeremy Vine show with horror stories of rabbits and tortoises starving to death... and apparently it portends the first of many Brexit disasters.

Let's just pause a moment shall we...

Aside from the obvious suggestions of eat carrots, cauliflower, kale, onions, parsnips, cabbage etc... instead... Why doesn't anyone focus on the poor sods in Spain whose livelihoods are presumably at risk because their crops failed? Isn't that the story? It's bloody winter anyway - who wants to eat salad when it's barely two degrees above freezing outside? Bring me my carrot soup at once!

Anticipation versus instant gratificaiton

Image credit: Luke Chesser via Unsplash.com

I have subscription to Spotify. For around £10 a month I have access to virtually every musical genre known to human ears and millions upon millions of tracks. The algorithms know my tastes and provide me with perfect suggestions when I'm looking for something new. It's pure bliss.

My son, who turns into a teenager next month, has suddenly started taking a deeper interest in music. Like me he has varied tastes with his playlists that see country music stars rubbing up against the kind of tunes a parent yells "turn that racket down" at. 'Head-banging music' as my own parents would have called it.

It was back in the early 80s when I made my first purchases of vinyl 7 inches - having finally persuaded Mum and Dad to buy a record player. I remember taking my pocket money to Boots and coming away with Eurthymics Sweet Dreams clutched in my paws (yes, millennials, Boots used to sell music once upon a time!).

There was something to be said about that anticipation. Saving your pennies - £1.20 was a lot back then - and then finally getting the living room to yourself, wiping the dust off the needle and letting the magic happen. It's something my son just won't get. It's all instant gratification and I suppose there's nothing wrong with that. He can go on a musical journey right from the comfort of his phone these days, taking in a bit of early 20th century jazz alongside today's pop funk. His musical education is right there for the taking.

Maybe it's just nostalgia, but there's still something special about slipping the vinyl from the sleeve and hearing that crackle as the needle begins its journey...

Free 3 video class

Do you wish you could paint? Or are you looking for a more intuitive way to create?

I’ve spent the last four months working with Whitney Freya to become a certified Creatively Fit Coach so that I can guide others through her Vision Quest programme and run my own workshops and courses.

Whitney is a wonderful teacher –full of creative energy that she commits to sharing with others.

Right now you can sign up for a FREE 3 VIDEO SERIES where Whitney shows you how to paint a dreamcatcher. No painting experience required – in fact you’ll be able to see her coach a complete beginner through the process in the videos. Whitney’s process helps build your confidence and bring out your inner artist while also opening your heart up to all manner of creative possibility!

If you love what you learn here, at the end of video 3 Whitney will invite you to continue the process through the Vision Quest training (with a special discount for those who watch the video) which will include coaching from me!

Follow this link to find out more and get your hands on that free video training – I’m painting my Dreamcatcher right now - it needs to be strong enough to hold Donald Trump as I dreamt he was chasing me the other night (he won’t be in the painting though!).

I’m also going to be running some really fun painting party workshops locally. Northamptonshire friends - watch this space! They will be a great opportunity to gather with friends and spend a day having fun, getting messy and creating beautiful art.

I'm so excited!

Grounded

My Goddess of the Lotus

The final stage of my four month Vision Quest with Whitney Freya brought us down to EARTH which is pretty appropriate as I plan to bring into this post an analogy about some cute fluffy creatures with big ears that like to burrow below the earth and make their homes among tangled tree roots, but more on that later.

Here with feet on terra firma we solidified the lessons learned in building our creative practice and gained clarity on what we wanted to manifest going forward.

Working through Air, Fire and Water had prepared the soil ready to plant the seeds that would be the start of new intentions. As I've been painting layers and meaning I've been building my understanding of what it will mean to take my coaching message out into the world.

I've also been realising how important it is to nurture those tiny new ideas and actions. Just like little green shoots, they are tender things that require constant attention - if I don't give them enough light, feed them or leave them in the dark they will wither and die. Ideas and intentions need room to grow, to put out new shoots that explore and develop.

Our the course of Vision Quest we have been learning to switch on and listen to our intuitive mind. The act of creativity, when we are completely in flow, will quiet the noise of our everyday lives and allow messages to come through. This might sound a bit 'woo woo' until you actually try it. Just as our brains sort through the day's events in the form of our dreams at night, so does our right brain like to figure things out.

Ready for the rabbit analogy now? Strictly speaking the bunny wisdom I want to share with you comes from a creature that didn't always live underground - not until he was 'real' anyway! I am of course referring to the Velveteen Rabbit! Tapping into our right brain through the creative process is like rummaging through our stuffing until we find what makes us real.

The simple act of writing down our thoughts and questions we seek answers to on our canvas and then covering them with layers of paint is like spark to a flame for our right brain. As we play, the brain sifts through its store of knowledge and produces solutions. It asks not "what is it?" but "what can I do with it?". Being intuitive opens us up to taking a much wider view, we look from all perspectives, going beyond the here and now. It never ceases to amaze me at what comes out when I start to paint, collage, create. I'll often look back and wonder if someone else made what is before me.

Then, moving off of the canvas and back into 'real' life we begin to learn the lessons from our creative practice. So many times when I make art I'll stare at a terrible first layer and want to quit. But I've learned to keep going, reinventing, trying something new, innovating.  It was just a step on the journey, a test to see if you could fight off any resistance you were struggling with.

And so now, as I develop my coaching practice I'm taking these lessons to heart. I fail fast, try another layer and bring in different tools and methodologies to see what will happen next. It's already making me a better coach.

And if you don't believe me, how about this guy?

"The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We  have created a society that honours the servant and has forgotten the gift."

Albert Einstein

Going with the flow

“If you are interested in something, you will focus on it, and if you focus attention on anything, it is likely that you will become interested in it. Many of the things we find interesting are not so by nature, but because we took the trouble of paying attention to them.”
― Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Finding Flow: The Psychology Of Engagement With Everyday Life

Have you ever felt the flow? Perhaps it was while watching a movie, playing a console game or ... CREATING! That's when I get it - those times when hours fly past because you are so immersed in the enjoyment of your process. When I'm in flow my intuition seems to take over. It's my right brain kicking in and adding its flavours to my creative juice.

Letting my paint and life flow in the direction it needs to go

Can you remember what it was like when you were a young child and presented with a blank sheet of paper and some poster paints. Did you sit there and moan to the teacher that you couldn't draw or that you didn't know what to paint? Or did you slather colour across the page, sticking your tongue slightly out of your mouth in concentration, and just make something?

Flow is naturally represented by Water and was the element explored by Whitney Freya and my band of vision questers last month. We dove deep into our soul and cleansed ourselves of notions that we weren't good enough or that everything had to perfect.

Imagine your life at present immersed in water right now. Are you all at sea with the waves of life taking control and casting you against the rocks. Is the sand clogging your senses? Do you need a sense of direction?

Or are you at one with your intuition, flowing down the river? When an obstacle appears on the horizon you don't fear it, you just flow right around or maybe grab the things from the water that will serve you and let go of what doesn't.

I've been painting with my intuition, just letting what wants to come make its way onto the canvas. Mostly the same canvas, I've fought the impulse to hang onto something just because it looked good at that moment and instead practiced detachment.

Evolution of a Picasso-inspired painting - later it became a red bird!

The lessons I've learned have applied in my work life too. I was holding onto a role that had been a comfort blanket but hadn't realised how much it had gone from soft and welcoming cashmere to a scratchy horse hair that was bringing me out in a nasty rash! So, I bravely let go of that which no longer served and followed my bliss. Right now for me this is stepping away from my regular income and throwing myself in the deep end as I launch my Creativity Coaching business. Scary stuff but there are no rocks so far! The water is warm and I'm bobbing along just nicely!

And as I flow into this new coaching career I seem to have Liz Gilbert on autoplay in my ear reminding me about how important it is to act on your ideas before they carry on downstream to find someone else to grow them to fruition. So, while in flow I've already launched both a new Facebook Group and a collaborative art project to further help bring my tribe together.

Art is Life. Life is Art.

Phoenix rising

Rising from the canvas - layers of paint underneath this Phoenix

This month on Whitney Freya's Vision Quest programme (where I'm training to become a Creatively Fit Coach) we are working with FIRE! Fire brings forth change and most of us are hard-wired to resist that right! But to create we must burn away resistance and stick our hands in that metaphorical fire. We might not find it as uncomfortable as we first think!

As we grow older and/or step away from a regular creative practice it's easy to carry around thoughts and behaviours that don't serve us. How many times have you said or heard a friend say "I don't have a creative bone in my body" or "I can't paint". Well, I'm here to tell you that as long as you can pick up a paintbrush and drag its laden bristles across a surface... then... YOU CAN! Vision Quest takes us through this process

The single most important change you can make each day is the movement from not creating to creating and once you take that first step it's a delightful ride to creating with wild abandon!

As we grow as artists there's more often than not a desire to make meaning from our creative pursuits, but sometimes just the very act of making the art is meaning enough in itself. The act of laying down colour and watching it mix and settle on the canvas is juicy, exhilarating and even a little bit sexy!

The beauty of many painting and mixed media materials is their ability to layer - to cover up. Not mistakes, never mistakes because we don't make those when we create! Oh no... we just make decisions that we move on from. We find interesting discoveries and openings. We just have to trust in the process.

Pretty soon what we thought was just blobs of colour starts to talk to us, to whisper itself into creation. Just like the Phoenix rising from the flames and all the other metaphors and stories that give us lessons in transformation and alchemy. Fire destroys but also purifies and opens up land to new growth.

Can we burn away your creative tangles and frustrations and open you up to rebirthing your creativity?

Sari - my Phoenix companion

Art in unexpected places

8.15 on a Friday morning, the tide of humanity sweeps through Moorgate Underground station, head down, bags gripped in sweaty palms. Clear objectives - get out of the station as quickly as possible, avoid the tourists, slow coaches and people dragging tripping devices on wheels. Except for one...

Spot the artist, phone in hand waiting for the seething mass to pass so she can take a photo of the torn and tatty posters glued to the tiles. There's art and story in those layers. Look deeper, journey inside, be pulled in.

I haven't done anything to these photos except to crop them. Each I believe is a work of art on its own worth hanging in the Tate Modern. I wonder how many others saw the lady in the blue dress dancing and leaping across the layers; the man about to burst out with joy and the unrequited lover watching her beau walk away again...

Following my nose

My drawing of Little Bunny from the original illustration by J P Miller

When I was a little girl one of my favourite books was Little Bunny follows his nose, a story about a rabbit that sets off on an adventure with nowhere particular in mind. He just ... follows his nose, in other words his intuition!

There was something about this idea of nose following that I always loved - a clear clue to the free spirit in my nature, the yearning to always know what's around the next corner from the country path and city street to the results from the choices we make.

My intuition and I are friends and, although she doesn't say much, she's always there to nudge me in what she believes to be the right direction. I don't always listen though (bad Lisa!) and usually regret it if I shut out her opinion. My intuition lives in the right side of my brain alongside the power of the subconscious where she looks at pattern, shape, thoughts and puts the seemingly disparate together to make new meaning. She's a clever thing.

Recently I let her give me a huge push. I'd reached a point in my career where I wanted to inject something new into the mix. I've been thinking a great deal recently about sharing the wealth of knowledge and experience I've gained over the years. I've a yearning to make a difference in people's lives - particularly other artists and creatives. I love to talk about creativity, right brain magic and art making. Moving into coaching seemed to offer everything I was after and then, wouldn't you believe it, the Universe only went and delivered me an email from Whitney Freya offering the opportunity to train with her and become a Creatively Fit Coach.

We started our first month in September focusing on the under-utilised power of the right brain - a topic so close to my heart. I was blown away the first time I read Dan Pink's A whole new mind - why right-brainers will rule the future and love to let my right side loose outide the box - to rip it open, tear it up and make something new! Of course, there's a balancing act - we need the left side too, but as the world became more automated our right brains just haven't been given enough to do. For many, they are packed away in bubble wrap and placed in storage. It's time to get them out for a play!

Whitney's tool bag of exercises are designed to exercise and limber up the cramped right side - it was time to understand exactly how we will stretch the creative muscles of our clients' creativity and energise them into artistic action.

This month I've been losing myself in Mandala-making, spending time switching off and being 'me' and just playing with pens on paper.

By far the most interesting exercise I found to be the Soul Scribble. This is a method of tuning out of your left and into your right hemisphere. It's really easy, why don't you have a go now.

Grab a sheet of paper and a pen. Take a deep breath and try to switch off the 'noise' of daily life - you know, the thinking about chores you need to do, the urge to check your phone, wondering what the dog is up to... Try and empty your mind and ask it what it needs you to know.

Now just close your eyes and scribble on the page. About three seconds should be enough. Now, look down. What do you see? A tangled mess of lines? Look again. Turn the page 90 degrees, squint and turn it again. Write down five words inspired by the drawing then just keep writing and see what comes out.

I saw a whale on a stormy sea - was that me? Riding the waves, singing my own song?

Another day I drew my scribble, looked down at the marks on the page and saw a pair of lungs. Not really surprising as I'd had a chest infection all week and was still coughing so hard it felt like I was turning myself inside out. I grabbed at this symbolism and started writing about how my lungs feel clogged. Then the magic happened. I moved beyond the sickness and took my power back. I wrote down the word BREATHE. I realised that the story wasn't about my lungs at all. It was a message to slow down. Maybe that's what the chest infection has forced me to do... I have already started this process but it's given me more clarity. I have put many of my projects on hold so I can focus on becoming a Creatively Fit Coach. I'm putting away the things that aren't serving me at present. Not all of them are bad, far from it. There just isn't space for them in my life right now. That's OK. They can wait.

I saw a face with crazy hair that looked like two women. Was this perhaps the strongest message of all? That my exploration of both sides of my brain is exactly what I should be doing, that I'm learning. The figure on the right side looked like she was climbing out of my head - emerging, ready to move into her own power.

The Soul Scribble is taking us into our right brain, it's speaking in symbology rather than words and forcing us to think differently - it's taking us to answers to unspoken questions. It's incredibly exciting and I can't wait to share this and all the other things I am learning with my clients.

Magic is happening my friends. Stay tuned... there's so much more to come - I feel it in my soul scribbles!

Going potty for pots

When I first heard mention of a BBC TV show about that was hoping to do for clay what The Great British Bake Off has done for the Victoria sandwich, I admit I was skeptical.

A programme where we watch contestants make pots didn't sound like it could hold my attention for 20 minutes let alone a whole series of hour long episodes - after all we've all seen someone make a pot on TV if not in the flesh before (Patrick Swayze of course manages both!). However, strange as it may seem I find myself hooked.

What tension as pots crack in the biscuit firing, plugs don't quite fit in coiled sinks and as the contestants race to determine who can make the most egg cups in 10 minutes. Then of course there's all the sensual stroking of the clay and who could forget the tears of the big man judge as he marvels at the creativity.

Throw in a few great characters - we've got Major Tom with a stiff upper clay lip and a gentle touch, the hunky vet and Jim the rock-a-billy up against farmer's daughter Sarah, Sally-Jo the designer and grandmother Sandra who doesn't look a day over 30!

By far the best bit though is waiting to see the results of the glazing when the pastel shades that entered the kiln are revealed in all their shining bright glory.

Can't wait for the next episode! Check out the first three here.

PS: Dear Father Christmas, Please can I have a potters' wheel...

Day 2 in the Big Blogger house: Chaos Theory

Well, second day in and I'm already wondering what to write about... Hmmm.... shall I wait for inspiration?

Hang on, what's that scratching my wrist? A piece of crumpled paper edging out from the pile of mountain of what only be described as 'stuff' cluttering up my desk. I look and sigh. It seems that no matter my good intentions, I simply cannot keep a tidy workspace.

Right now I can see a Batman cat costume (best not to ask), several notebooks, letters and parcels (parcels opened but brown envelopes studiously ignored), an empty cloth bag, a cuddly toy (this is starting to sound like the Generation Game...), a scarf, heat cushion, pens, a book on animal medicine cards, an orange USB and numerous scribbled notes - and that's just the top layer. Goodness knows what lies beneath, a veritable treasure trove of intriguing surprises no doubt!

Maybe that's why I let it get into this state or am I just a lazy, messy slob who will one day be swallowed whole by her junk mountains.

It's no good. I have to do something about it! Tomorrow I will try and write something a little more intellectual but no promises. I've been working hard all day and frankly the creativity is runnething a little dryeth!

I leave you with a little quote to ponder by mathematician Edward Lorenz who knows a fair amount about chaos theory:

Chaos: When the present determines the future, 

but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.

In other words... the present is a pile of things that shouldn't be in a dangerous pile on a desk but stored in an organised fashion. By approximating such storage by use of a pile and not a filing system I am setting myself up for a chaotic future!

A bit of a Barney

Image courtesy of Pixabay

There is something of a gale blowing outside with strange thumps and rattles that sound like harbingers of Halloween on the rampage but are probably just the contents of my recycling bin rolling down the hill.

I'm not allowing myself to be frightened though because I know this storm is called Barney and frankly anything named after a cuddly purple dinosaur surely can't be that scary - because everyone knows that Barney isn't a real dinosaur!

I wasn't too sure where the idea to suddenly start naming UK weather systems came from so I turned to my trusty adviser Google for answers and it turns out make good sense. Giving a storm a name makes it easier to talk about - rather than just another big wind. Apparently we are to expect Clodagh next followed by Desmond and so on as we alternate male and female throughout the alphabet - but sadly skipping Gail the gale. The one I'm really looking forward to though is Wendy Windblows...

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In an effort to kick start my blogging again, I am joining with this 30 day challenge to see if I can keep on blogging for 30 days. Well, here's Day 1!

Autumnal accessories

Every Autumn or Fall as some of you prefer to call it (presumably because you slip over on the icy pavements a lot...), there's an ever present accessory we are often seen sporting. Yes, you probably guessed from the photo above - it's a spider web - with or without accompanying arachnid.

Spiders just love to dress us up during these chillier months. They thoughtfully spin their webs directly where we will walk through them - preferably at face height right outside our front doors or across footpaths. This way it's easy for them to wrap our features in a fine gauze with their egg legged selves perching thoughtfully somewhere in our hair.

There's a ritual I've also observed as we get dressed up in this delicate gossamer. It requires much arm flapping, face swiping and head itching - plus often a whole body shiver. Rarely does putting on clothing and dance go so entirely hand in hand!