Die Hard, Old Habits Do

I feel it happening.

The spiraling away from the desires of the heart.
Where I want to create, but the guilt sets in.
The voices that say I should be doing “other things”.
The ones that say “You’re not good enough anyway, so just give up.”

I’ve had the same canvas on the easel for near on two weeks.
The paint is giving me some grief and not “sticking” properly in spots.
I don’t know how else to explain it.
I was attributing it to the weather, but now I don’t know.
So I started finding excuses to not pick up the brush.
This is no way to do 50 by 50 if I keep finding reasons to not create.

Then, I’ve been thinking about writing.
I was watching “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society” movie
last night.  Once again, here was a movie that reminded me that I long to be
a writer.  This one is right up there with “Julie and Julia” and “Eat Pray Love”.
One of those that I will probably watch time and again as a reminder.

The movie brought up a memory from my childhood about a toy blue and
white typewriter I got for Christmas one year.  I remember going to a store
in the neighborhood called Darlings.  They sold toys and baby stuff like cribs
and strollers and the like.  She told me I can open it at Christmas. I remember
how excited I was to finally open the box and tap tap tap the keys.

I don’t know what happened to it.  I don’t remember it breaking.  Or getting
thrown away.  I have a few memories of trying to type fast like I saw them
do in TV shows, but my keys always got stuck.  The next typewriter I had was
one of those enormous industrial monstrosities.  The not yet ex brought it home.
I think it was from his office that he moved to the apartment.  I was supposed to
be his new office secretary.  I didn’t use it for anything like that, not that I can recall.
I don’t know what happened to it either.

I haven’t had a typewriter since. At least not that I can recall.  But this movie makes
me want another one.  Maybe an old manual style so it can be used anytime?  Though,
an electric is easier, perhaps.

Just before I watched the movie, I was thinking that maybe it was too early to be
thinking about NaNo.  But then I saw some rather inspiring posts about it on IG.
Reminding me that it’s never too early.  Of course, the words swirl in my head that
my words suck. That I’ve never in my life finished writing anything. (Except blog
posts, haha).

This in turn, led me to think about photography.  How long had I been interested?
I vaguely remember being curious about my mom’s old 110 Kodak. And not being
allowed to touch it.  I got my first “real” camera when I was about 19. It was a cheap
35 mm that I paid like 20 bucks or so for.  It took the shittiest pictures at times, no zoom!!!  But it was mine and it made me happy to have my own camera.

All this just got me thinking how I let those demons talk to me. How I let myself fall
into the guilt trap.  Which all leads down the road to not doing anything.  The difference,
I think, this time is that I caught myself in the process. Despite everything yesterday, I
still picked up the brush and added some paint.  Despite everything lately, I have been
looking into how to make the most of my one lonely camera lens.  Despite everything, I
found myself and allowing myself to think about story ideas and about NaNo.

Maybe, just maybe………
I’ve turned the corner.
Maybe, just maybe………
I am finally on my way to living my creative life.


Who Do You Say You Are?

This was a question posed by Cynthia Lee this week.
Yesterday, I believe.  I saw it last night and I’ve been chewing on it.

I know who people say I am.
And that has pretty much defined me.
Because, I believed the shit they said.
As a result, I find it difficult to believe anyone when they tell me
something positive. I tend to think they are lying and/or have an
ulterior motive.

I struggle with positive words about myself.
I struggle with saying who or what I am.
When someone asks me what do I do, I flounder.
I find it almost impossible to say “I am an Artist” or “I am a Writer”.
I notice that I will put my head down and almost tone down my
voice several notches, but not quite a whisper to say those words.
There is little confidence in my speech when I answer that question.
I find it almost impossible to hold my head high and say it with the
confidence it deserves, because I’m not published, I’m not in a gallery,
I’ve never sold a piece of art (I haven’t tried, so there’s that. And I’m not
at that point yet because I’m not prepared for it.)

I cannot find the ability to stand in my truth and say that I am a survivor,
several times over.  Mostly because people I know will say things like “Oh,
you didn’t have it that bad.  Others had it way worse than you.”  or, “Stop
being so dramatic, that’s not what happened or how it happened.” or “It’s
all in your head.  You didn’t really experience that in that way, if at all.” So
many variables to tell me that my story isn’t my story and therefore not valid.

There is great difficulty is saying that my words are holy and sacred.
I even find it hard to say that I am at best Pagan.  I don’t know how else to
define my path or beliefs right now.  I think I might still have some Agnostic
leanings, especially in matters of Mary Magdalene and the Apostles that
were left out of the “official” bible. Probably because their teachings were not
in line with the powers that be that wanted to wield the words to control the

I’m struggling to blend the path of following the Goddess and being witchy, yet
wanting to learn and follow a Druid path, while honoring Mary Magdalene and the
Blessed Mother.  Sometimes, it feels like it would best to “lie” and just say that
I am Catholic and leave at that.  People seem less judgy that way.  It’s been said that
once a Catholic, always a Catholic if you’ve received the Sacraments. So would it
really be lying?

I guess it would be safe to say that after all this time, I still don’t know who I am.
I am still on that journey, trying to figure it all out.
I think I know who and what I want to be.
A Goddess worshiping, Mary/Mary Magdalene honoring, Eclectic Witch, Druidess,
Artist, Writer, Photographer, Survivor/Warrior, Advocate/Activist whose words
and art are Sacred and Holy and Worthy.  I want to stand in and speak my truth.
Am I asking for or wanting too much?
Should I just stay in my corner, shrunken and small to the point of being invisible?

Once upon a time, I found that very easy to do.
Stay small. Shrink myself into invisibility.
Don’t speak.
Do what is expected of my by others, by family, by society.
I have struggled all my life to try and fit in.  Conforming to peoples wishes and
expectations so that they would like me and accept me. But all that got me was
used and taken advantage of.

But lately, more so as I approach 50…I am finding it more and more difficult to
hold my tongue, to stay small, to stay invisible.
I don’t want to dress normal, be normal.
I find it all a little unnerving because I am such an introvert and don’t do
peopling very well.
I don’t want to fit in. I don’t want to conform.
I don’t necessarily want to stand out either.  But perhaps, stand apart.
Dare to be different.  Dare to be me, whoever and whatever that is.

So in a very very shaky voice I say:
I am an artist and writer, a budding photographer.
I am a Goddess worshiping, Nature loving, Mary/Mary Magdalene honoring,
aspiring Druid with eclectic witch tendencies.
Who is a survivor and a warrior, who will advocate for those
in need. My words, my art are Sacred.  They are a prayer and practice in my life.

Now, I think I will go turn on my salt lamp, light some incense, and fling some more
paint on my canvas.  I’ve sat with it a few days, I think she is ready for me to add more.

Lammas Blessings

Rabbit Rabbit – Happy August!

Blessed Lammas/Lughnasadh!
Blessings of the (dark) Lilith Moon!

I wasn’t sure I was going to write today.
I journaled instead.  I saw a post on FB about writing down
your wishes, dreams, intentions, desires this dark moon.
Then reading them allowed. And read as often as you are
lead, until the Full Moon.
This was supposed to be a strong dark moon-new moon.
And rare!  Only occurring every 32 months.  And NEVER
in February.
So, I used this as an opportunity to write some dreams and wishes
down, along with some intentions and desires.  It’s out there, that’s
all I can say.  The rest is in the hands of the Universe-God/dess-Spirit,

Interestingly enough too, Mary Magdalene as you know has been on
my mind a lot.  I kid you not, I think in the last 24 hours I’ve come
cross an image or post about her at least 3 different times.  Synchronicity?
A sign?  Maybe…..Maybe.

So, um….
Call me crazy.
It’s okay, really.  Everyone does LOL. Okay, maybe not everyone. But there
are enough people that do 😀
Anyway, I had a thought.  Inspired by Kathy Crabbe,creator of the Lefty Oracle Deck.
She is doing 54 paintings before her 54th birthday, which is coming up soon.

SO….you know me…
Crazy idea….what if….I…yeah me the Queen of Procrastination…..
tried to create 50 paintings (or journal pages) before 50?
What do ya think?
From today, there are 88 days until my birthday!  meaning, I won’t necessarily
have to do one a day.  I have 38 or 37 if I wait till tomorrow, free days to do
50 paintings or pages.

That means, ass in the chair.
Fuck the noise that tries to distract me.
Games, social media, etc.
I have about ten blank canvases.  Several journals in various stages of fullness.
Two large watercolor pads. A smaller (9×12) one, wait no…can’t use that one. It’s
for Lifebook.

Bottom line though is I have stuff to use.  Plus I have about 8-10 poster paper sheets.
So plenty of options.

I feel like I want to explore, maybe, painting Mary Magdalene however she might
show up for me.
Big task if I try that. Yet it feels right. But it’s scary.  And it is BIG.

Just putting this out there feels scary.  I don’t know if I can do this.
I’m afraid to try and fail.  And I’m also afraid to not try at all, because then I’ve
already failed.

The canvas on my easel is calling me.
It’s saying things like
*Enough, YOU ARE
And maybe even Compassion.
It’s telling me it wants these words written on the canvas BEFORE I start to paint.
It wants me to set intentions before I start.
I’ve only done that once, when I did a Whitney Freya lesson and painted my butterfly.
Which by the way, I want to do another but of a dragonfly.

I don’t know where all this is coming from.
I’m feeling pulled between listen and don’t listen.
The struggle is real.

I guess I could just try and see where it goes.
If you start seeing a bunch of pictures of paintings and journal pages…then you’ll know
I took the plunge and went with the call.


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