Imagine...

Today, if you could close your eyes and imagine a time in your life that you could magically go back to, where would it be?

Like a prayer, close your eyes and imagine that time, that place, what does it look like? Feel like? Smell like? The only thing you can bring with you is the you you are now. Where would you go?



Half asleep, lying in my twin bed that is shored up against the log cabin wall closest to the waters edge. I am at our camp on the New Meadows River, 10 years old, it is early summer.

The windows, screened ran all along the outer wall of the enclosed cabin porch and had old rod iron arms that stretched and lock them open. On this night they are partially open. The air is thick with a foggy mist, not over salt laden like home on Great Island, but wet enough so when you walked down the hill to the outhouse your nighty and skin were damp from it.

Lying in bed the only light on in the camp was the one beside my fathers chair where he sat, feet up, reading the newest paperback thriller from Bookland and listening to the RedSox game on the transistor radio to the left of his chair. That light illuminates the rafters above my head, casting shadows in the corners making the spider webs more iradesent and somehow larger then the daytime.

Dad's chest clearing cough was comforting, he was always there and falling asleep was easy.

Eyes still closed... I explore the world around me, almost always outdoors. At 10, I can be anything I want to be as long as I am not in the way of the dailiness of the house hold. I have finished my chores that are posted and expected to be done without asking and am off to busy myself with any variety of things.

I am a mermaid, if the tide is high in the alcoves of the brackish water. Canopies of tall oaks and maples surround me as I swim off the ledges transforming from mermaid to harbor seal back to a little girl. I can hear my voice echo with the smallest of whoo hoo's, it is peaceful here.



I am a writer, at my little desk that my niece now has in her downtown apartment. I am writing stories, secret diary entries, comic strips, letters, poems and if I am at a loss, transcribing long stanzas from old books that mom would buy from antique shops or estate auctions. It is fun and feels very collegic.


The writer becomes a secretary at a real estate office, "Baribeau Real Estate, how can I help you?" This memory, I am bouncing around in my father's truck, running his errands with him and am awe struck by how much fun it would be to have a phone at my little desk and pretend I was that fancy secretary too!  Then the secretary turns into a bank teller with extra deposit slips tucked in my drawer that Dad would let me take along with a bank pen when we went there as well. After hours the writer, the secretary and the bank teller would become an artist. Collage, coloring and painting materials would all come out and nothing was off limits.

Closing my eyes and imagining a time like this, even just for a few minutes brings a joyful remembrance and a peaceful calm in a time that is uncertain. At 10, I didn't know what was going to happen from day to day either. I was safe where I was as long as I was home and lived within the confines of what others, mostly the ones that I trusted and could count on deemed important and for my safety. The rest of the world could fall away and I wouldn't have known any different.

Today we do know all about the world, all the options, all the scenarios, worse case and best. But the knowing of it doesn't seem to help right now. We can watch the news till our eyes fall out but it doesn't seem to help much or make anything better for us today.

So, my simple practice today will be, not to stick my head in the sand, but to just close my eyes for a while, imagine myself in some other time or place, embrace the feeling, the sights and sounds that surrounds me there and bring them back here, to share.


Where will you go? Share this with someone who you feel might need to read it too if you want.

photo credit: judygarlandasdorothy.com

"We're not in Oz anymore Dorothy"... but that's ok, because for today I'm going to imagine that there is no place like home and home for me is to be 10~

Happy Friday Gang!

Cheers,
Denice

Express Yourself!

It still amazes me, the shift that happens within my writer's mind when I allow space to let it play. The ideas, the scenarios, the presence in all things that just seems to come when that door is cracked open. Part of me knows deep inside that the reason I don't "go there" is because of this shift.

Life in the last seven months has been nothing short of a crazy train of changes, new opportunities, milestones, and forward momentum for so many of the people that surround me and that I love in my life. My creative internal pause button has been on during all of these months and as I begin to open up to this blog platform I know it is going to be difficult to be here.

My personality is one that does't really know how to do anything part way, I'm either in or I'm out.. It seems very severe and rigid for someone who leans on the flowery side of life most days, but that is kind of how it happens and is part of who I am to the chagrin of my nearest and dearest.  This askew concentration becomes very evident when I begin to write. I hyper focus on the material, I day dream about the next piece, I envision every photo into a story or a non fiction narrative and the rest of my life skitters off the path and becomes a trail of tears in my literary wake. This is why I don't always "go there", as it obviously can be a struggle.

Fortunately, the longer I've lived and opened this door I've come to terms with the monkey mind that shows up on the page and although it may take me down the path of no return for a time, during the writing, I've managed to place a rein on it. My daily writing in my journals over the last twenty five years is where I have wrestled and trained. This practice has allowed my inner monkey to relax a bit knowing the ideas are safely tucked away and have not escaped my attention. "Some day", I assure it... we will sit down and get these written, but for now we need to go grocery shopping... Lol..

I'm not crazy, just creative! I need a t-shirt that says that.

The muse or our creative selves are a living, breathing part of who we all are, some of us just access it easier then others. Mine shifts.. Thank God! I am grateful for that. When I'm not writing, I'm cooking, if I'm not cooking, I'm mixing up salves and concoctions with my essential oils and herbal remedies.. If not that, then making jams, pickles, gardening, reading, exploring mixed media arts of all shapes and sizes, taking pictures & thinking about writing... That usually gets me back on the page in short order. It's all good in my opinion.

Expressing who we really are in whatever way we can, in whatever time allows during the seasons of our lives is imperative to the Greatest Creator of all.. This is why we are here people. :))

How will you bring it today? I know I am not alone. Have a monkey mind kind of day~

Cheers!

Back In The Saddle

                                 
How many times do you fall before you finally get the hang of doing something? Riding a bike? A horse? Skiing? I think this is the third time, maybe the fourth attempt at trying to write this blog. So today, I find myself out of nets, excuses and reasons not to bother, so alas! Here it is again. Forgive me and welcome back!

I've discovered that if I just write it for goodness sake and stop thinking about writing it, I'd be totally ahead of the game. My feeling now is that grammatically right or wrong, tenses in place or not, raw or thought out, the writing of it is the most important part. I've discovered also that I need to have a means of expression within my varied interests and experiences in this life and blogging seems to creatively cover all the bases.

This process helps me keep an account of my endeavors and experiences. From textile explorations to splashing about with mixed media pieces, art journaling to discover what these materials do. Experiments in baking, savory styles of chefdom couture, artist dates for inspiration, color and texture indulgences. Not to mention furry friend expeditions, new authors, vintage ideas renewed, inspiring works, words and spiritual moments too many to count or list here and now, but that is pretty much how the blog will go. Random Perfection!

I'll try to map it out a bit, it'll go rouge more then not, but will attempt to create a weekly check in point to share the road with other explorers, creative spirits and makers of all genres.

I welcome all sojourners of the creative process and hope you enjoy this walk with me as I discover my own path on this journey of life I've been blessed to have and that we can learn and experience a little bit more for having walked through it together.