The Struggle is Real

searching for something more

Sometimes I need time away from the schedule, deadlines, and commitments. If I fail to give myself permission to stop, to hop off the merry-go-round of my life, I’ve learned the hard way that my body will do it for me. I have to remind myself -

• Who made these things pressing?
  I did.

• Whose fault is it that I am over-extended?
  Mine.

• Who is standing over me with a whip and a stop-watch?
  Me.

• Who can rescue me from it all?
  Me.

I received a newsletter today and it was as if the Universe sent it just for me. The topic? “Do you need quiet time?” These words resonated with me, “Your head and heart are often in conflict.” That’s what it is. What I want to do (my heart) conflicts with what I have to do (my head). How many people get to do what they want to do on a day-to-day basis?” And really, most of what I have to do has all come about because I am, after all, living the life of my dreams – being an artist, writing books, traveling, teaching, and sharing my passion with other like-minded souls. I love every bit of it. So where is the conflict? What is it I want to be doing?

Most of the women I come in contact with already know the power of art. You appear in my classes, return to my Red Thread Retreats over and over, buy and read my books, follow me on social media, read this newsletter, or visit my website  – all because you know there is magic in creating. But what about the other women out there who have not yet made the discovery? What about those who want to create something, but lack the confidence, the courage, or the know-how of where to begin? So many women are looking for something more in their life but don’t know what it is.

That was me, 30+ years ago. I had everything I ever dreamed of - a wonderful, happy, loving marriage to my high-school sweetheart, a dream house in a beautiful neighborhood near the “right” schools (sadly in need of updating, but a dream house nonetheless), and 5 beautiful, happy, and healthy children. I was supposed to be happy but I ached inside. I sat on the edge of my bed miserable, confused, and perplexed because I didn’t understand how or why this cloak of melancholy surrounded me; crying because I was so unhappy and didn’t know why. Behind my happy wife/mom face I was dancing on the edge of despair.

True to form, I took it on as a problem to be solved. It finally dawned on me. “I’m not doing anything for me!” I’d like to say that’s the moment everything changed, but it was a slow process. (Oh, and did I mention another child arrived the same year my (former) youngest went off to kindergarten?) Surprised but not deflated, I figured by this time I had the mothering thing down and could do both - care for a wee one and reclaim my self-care.

I spent many years not creating art because I thought I didn’t have the time or talent. I had finally come to the simple realization that making art made me happy. My happiness depended on finding a way to fit art into my life. Discovering how to do this didn’t come all at once, nor was it an overnight process. I struggled to juggle it all, but perseverance was my friend. I woke up every day thinking, maybe this is the day I’ll have the time to make art. Really! Every.single.day. Most days it didn’t happen, but that mantra kept me motivated. I knew my time would come.

Eventually, there was a big Aha moment, just like in the movies. January 15, 1999. I know the exact date because there was a record ice storm in DC. We were without power for 4 days. Besides sitting by the fire to stay warm or read, there wasn’t much I could do. And there it was, the available time I had been looking for.

A 1999 Fragment. “I had been my whole life a bell and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” Annie Dillard

I was preparing for a moment like this. I’m really good at preparing. It’s much easier than actually starting. All my time thinking (vs. doing) led to the conclusion that the things I was most drawn to were people (photographs), text (quotes), and color (fabric).
I already had a small collection of photos printed on fabric for me by a local copy shop. That day I began making what I would later call Fragments - small fragments of fabric with quotes and images created in fragments of time. I had a dozen or so ready to stitch as soon as the power came back on. What I experienced that day and all the days going forward was a feeling that I felt compelled to share with other women. “What if I had never discovered this? I must share it with others.” That feeling was the joy of creating something that makes your heart sing.

I built myself a website. I sold Fragments at the art retreats I attended. A year later I was teaching and was asked to write a book. 25 years, thousands of students, and 10 books later, my goal has always been to inspire others to find, and more importantly, act on their creative calling.

It’s who I am. It’s what I do.

I make it sound easy, right? Just do it as Nike says. It is now a lot easier than it was 30 years ago. Thankfully we now have access to so much how-to information on living a creative life through the Internet. I see it every day – but just seeing or reading about it is not enough. It is hard to start. This road we walk, the journey to follow your creative heart is perhaps one of the hardest for many to begin. In most professions, what they do is not who they are. A surgeon practices the art of medicine, but medicine is an art based on the exactness of science. A chef practices the art of cooking, but again, there are rules, structure and recipes. They practice an art, but it is not necessarily who they are. When you are making your art, it is who you are. It is your inner self there on the canvas, on the cloth, the paper, or the metal. There is no separation. I don’t need to tell you of the courage it takes to confront yourself every time and put the inside out there for others, yourself included, to see.

The need, the urge to create is so vital. Consider yourself lucky if you are in touch with it because so many have buried it over the years that when asked, will swear they do not have a creative bone in their body. If my children, and now my grandchildren, have taught me anything, it is that we are born creators. It is as natural an act for a child as breathing or walking… until life buries it.

Everyone is born creative; everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten. Then when you hit puberty they take the crayons away and replace them with dry, uninspiring books on algebra, history, etc. Being suddenly hit years later with the 'creative bug' is just a wee voice telling you, I'd like my crayons back, please. Hugh MacLeod

I want every woman to know, to discover, that feeling again. And to have the confidence to pursue it. To give herself permission to create. To find the time to do so, to take the time to do so, and to have the courage to do so. To get back on track if you’ve fallen away from your artmaking, writing, or whatever your creative pleasure is.

This is where my heart lies. This is what I want to be doing. I’ll still be making art, but writing here is my best way to explore, discuss, and delve into our shared interests- creativity, artmaking, aging, and the wisdom of it all. In reality, aren’t we all always looking for something more? It is within us. You’ve always had the power, my dear, you just have to learn it for yourself. (Glinda the Good Witch, aka L. Frank Baum).

(art is already in your heart)

Are you creating the art in your heart? Let me know. And thanks for reading this far.