Art Makes You Feel Better~#sol16

Waking up this morning, a day off after a 12 hour day of parent teacher conferences, a slight bit of gloom weighs heavy on me.  As an introvert, so much people time depletes my energy reserves and I need days of aloneness to restore and renew my supply.

My husband, chipper as a five year old on Christmas, skipped out this morning with buddies – an ice fishing trip until Monday.  I have the house to myself for three whole days.  Yet, every room of the house begs for my attention; dishes, laundry, bills, school work.  I burrow into my bed a little longer than usual until our yellow lab, Sandy, comes into my bedroom and finds my elbow to lick.

After coffee,  my notebook is pulled out.  A few morning pages and then some creating is in store.  A little doodling is all it takes to start refilling the well.  Sometimes, I cut and glue and paint and design art journal pages on a Saturday morning, but today, a pen is all that is needed.

There is no end product in mind, just a process of doodling.  Sometimes zentangle designs come up, sometimes it’s faces filled with a variety of expressions.  I giggle a bit after each face as some characters come alive – or I come to the realization that I know that face in real life.

When I don’t know where to start,  drawing what I’m wearing, including the emotions I might be carrying gets me going down the doodling path and stokes the fires a bit.  My pen takes over with a mind of it’s own and I just follow it.  An hour or so later, some heaviness is lifted and I feel ready to dig into my day.

Some people start their day with prayer.  Some with writing (me, too)  Some exercise.  Others create their to-do lists.  On my weekends, I start with art.

How about you?  How do you restock the well?

Shari 🙂

I am participating in the Slice of Life challenge to write and publish a post every day in March.

Slice of Life is hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I thank them for the community they provide. Read more slices here.

 

Hair Magic ~A Very Small Slice~ #sol16

“Mrs. Daniels! Something STRANGE is going on here!” a third grade boy muttered into my ear right after my writing workshop lesson.

“What, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Well,” he continued, “This morning, your hair was this caramel-chocolate color and now. . . well, it’s turning grey!”

My cheater reading glasses rested on top of my head, pulling back my bangs and hair along my hairline.  Note to self:  buy a box of hair color on the way home.  I laughed and I don’t think he knew why.  This boy had a serious question and wanted an answer for how hair can turn grey so fast.

“Are you magic?” he smiled.

I wish.

I tire of coloring my hair.  The box colors seem to last about two weeks on my grey patches now.  I can’t be running to a salon every month.  Geez.

“When can I start letting my hair go grey?”  I ask my friend.

“Oh, never!”  she warns.

“Seriously? I can’t do this until I’m 70.  My own mother JUST now stopped coloring her hair and it’s a beautiful grey.  I can’t go another 20 years.”

“Oh, but, we have to.”

Fine.

Another box of Clairol Nice and Easy ~Dark Auburn is purchased.

My poor little third grader is going to be so confused.

 

 

5 Bullet Wednesday ~ #sol16

It’s Day 2 of the Slice of Life Story Writing Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.  The mission is to blog daily for the month of March.  This is not an easy task.  Our days are full and often we think there is nothing much to write about.  But magic happens when you are on this mission to put something out to the world every day.  Stuff to write about appears. Everything appears blog worthy.  The issue then becomes what to choose.

I follow Tim Ferris, author of 4-Hour Work Week (even though I know that will never happen – I’m a teacher for Pete’s Sake) and am inspired by his 5 Bullet Friday posts.  The structure is easy for any kind of writing day, especially when you need to write something quick and have several ideas floating around in your head.  So, here goes.  My 5 Bullet Wednesday:

Book I Am Loving Right Now ~ All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.  I’m telling you, the writing in this book is so savory.  I can study a paragraph for an hour analyzing how Anthony Doerr tried to do that.  I often share my journey through this book with my third graders at school and they are in as much suspense as I am.

A Quote That’s On My Mind ~ “Living in a state of wonder involves creating space in our lives for storing up our impressions of the world, and reflecting on them.  There is something important about the storing up of things.  We are sorting, sifting and making sense of our thoughts and experiences.  And holding these things close-in a compulsively over-sharing culture-is a rare discipline.”  ~ Christina Crook

Clothing I’m Loving ~ The super clearance winter jacket I bought at Walmart FOR $19.00.  Yes, you heard it.  $19.00.  You’d never guess.  Dang, I love a good deal.

Song I’m Loving ~ Jake Owen’s Real Life.  I cannot help but dance around in my car when this song comes on the radio.

What I’m Wondering Today ~ Why did Jimmy Johns quit putting sprouts on their tuna club sandwich?  I really loved the sprouts.

There you have it.  Easy Peasy.  5 Bullet Wednesday.

Shari 🙂

 

The Snooze Button ~ #sol16

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5:30am

The first reminder that the day is new comes from the tune of an alarm alongside my bed.

“Ugh,” I muffle, as I burrow deeper into my bedding.  My husband still sound asleep.

Snooze #1.

A snooze is 9 minutes.  Precisely.  A few snoozes are in store for this morning as the night before brought parent/teacher conferences until 8:00 pm.  It seemed I just left school and here my alarm was blaring that I needed to go back.

“No worries,” I calm myself, as I begin planning my outfit in my mind.  A black pair of pants hang in my closet and a sweater on my shelf, both, I know are clean.  They might not even require ironing.  Ten minutes is saved right there.  Dreamland calls me back to paradise.

5:39 am

Already.  I thought I’d just hit that snooze.  Geez.  I’m not getting up yet. There’s plenty of time.  I don’t need to be at school at 7:00 am today.  I’m giving myself a break.  I’m pretty convincing to myself.

Snooze #2.

Rolling over, my husband stirs, unshaken by the alarms and my snoozes.  I wrap my arm around him and dig underneath his fleece army blanket that he prefers to sleep beneath.  My own coverings of quilts I push off.  Each of us have contrasting preferences for nighttime blankets.  I need heaviness and he, light.

“You are wrapped up in there like Fort Knox,” he teases at night when I get ready for bed.

School dreams take me away this time.  My third graders are at gym and I can’t find the way there.

5:48am

Again.  Is there any way I can stretch the snoozes to be longer?

“Why don’t you just set your alarm for later?” my husband frequently asks, trying to remedy my problem.

“Because.  I like to have some warnings,” I profess.  “Snoozes give me a chance to feel like I get extra sleep.”

The snooze button is tapped again.  I snuggle back up to my husband, who is cool to the touch.

“Aren’t you cold?  You need more covers,” I mother him.

He ignores me and continues to slumber.  His scent of clorine from swimming takes me back to high school, he on the swim team and I, his girl friend.

Snooze #3.

6:24am

The alarm frustrated by now.  The spring sky growing lighter.

“I have to get up,” I whisper to my husband.

“What? Just five more minutes,” as he rolls over to wrap his arm around me.

Easily swayed,  “I guess I don’t need to wash my hair today.  I washed it yesterday,” I remind myself .  A benefit of long hair.

Snooze #9.  Seriously.

6:33am

Oh for Pete’s Sake.

“I have to go,” I urge my husband.

“Just one more snooze,” he begs.

I smile.

He really has no idea what time it is and how many snoozes have gone by,  not needing to be at work until 8:00.

Gone are the years of babies and night time feedings, waking children for daycare or dressing and feeding kids for school.  No longer are teenagers blaring music at night or sneaking in the door in the early morning hours.  Empty nesters, we play this game now.  Who can stay in bed the longest and still get to work?  (Still following our rule that if you are not there early, you’re late.)

This place.

I am grateful we made it to this place in our marriage.  The “children years” test every aspect of a marriage and when the offspring take wing,  a couple is weary and sometimes decide to trail off on their separate paths.  We persevered.

This place.

The morning snuggles with legs intertwined and rhythmic breathing.  I’m sure this is what heaven is like.  I whisper to God, thanking Him for mornings. . . and my husband. . . and his love.

And snooze buttons.

 

Writing To Quiet The Voice

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While readying myself to pen this post, I couldn’t get Bernice’s voice out of my head.  Bernice is my critic, my fear, my alter-ego and she likes to taunt me whenever I try to share some writing with the world.

Today, I actually heard these words come out of her nagging mouth, “You can’t call yourself a writer.  You have not blogged for months, your book proposals have been rejected, your e-book ideas sit in your notebooks and seriously, you are just plain too afraid of me showing up in your writing.  Give it up, Girly.”

I hadn’t heard these words in a while.  A long while.  When I do put my writing out there for the world on a regular basis, Bernice quiets down.  If I have a severe lapse, she shows up, louder and louder.  Funny that.  I’ve given her space to balk.

So, to show her she’s wrong, I came to one of my blogs today (my other is theliteratemind – just as neglected) to actually get back on track to feel more writerly today. I’ve been here so many times, I could write a book on that.  I’d call it Fear of the Keyboard.  I also need to remind myself that I AM A WRITER because I do put my pen to paper every single day.  Like breathing or brushing my teeth. My purpose for writing, however, on a daily basis is not to always share with the world, it’s to find my way in the world.

So, to inspire myself, I vowed to join along the writing journey of 800+ teachers in Kate Messenger’s Teachers Write Summer Camp.  Today’s lesson was on character sketches by Melonie Crowder, author of several books, Parched, Audacity and A Nearer Moon. I’m anxious to read these books after hearing Melonie’s voice in her writing lesson.

I enjoy creating character sketches.  My favorite ones are of my husband and children because I know them so well and they are interesting to observe and write about when they don’t know you are writing about them.  But, I’ve written a few character sketches sitting in airports and on airplanes that bring me back to that moment in a second when I reread them.  I decided to rummage through the notebooks. Here is one I found from a trip to Ohio a few years past.

When I travel alone, the one thing I’ve started to become apprehensive about is the unknowingness of who has purchased the airplane seat next to me. Before boarding the plane, I scan the waiting room for loners wondering which human it might be.  Once on the plane, I sit with my eyes attentive to the entry, eyeing passengers as they look for their seats.  I wait.  On this particular flight, I sat in my window seat for quite some time, beginning to think I was going to be lucky enough to have both seats to myself.  Just imagining it was bliss.

And then he appeared.

A large man, late 30ish, maybe 40’s, wearing a tattered and tight Harley jacket, carrying an Arby’s bag, began his stagger up the aisle.  “Please.  No,” I heard my insides quiver.  I scolded myself, “Shari, that’s terrible.  Be nice.  He might be a very kind man who could be here to teach you something.”  Ok.  Breathe. Look out the window.

The closer he got to my row, the more anxiety I had.  Sure enough, after looking at the seat row signs, he scrunched himself into the seat right next to me. I hugged the window a little tighter.

“Hi,” I greeted him.

“Hey,” he replied.

After settling in, he fumbled with his Arby’s bag and jumbo pop trying to adjust his seat bucket to accommodate him.  Waves of smells came along with him – tractor grease, a faint smell of farts, (can’t think of a better word here – sorry). I began to wonder if maybe gas of this sort just leaks out of some people all day when you eat the kind of stuff that’s in that Arby’s bag.

Then, he opened the bag.  Good Gloria Lord in Heaven.

This was not your average hamburger and fries kind of stench.  I was gyro-like with strange sauces.  That combined with the tractor grease and farts was enough to make my eyes water.  I turned my head to window wishing I could open it for a whiff of fresh air or of hopes of a lady behind me with strong flowery perfume I could inhale.  Sadly, behind me was another fairly large man with a bad breath issue.  Yes, I could smell it.

I wished for a sedative.

Shut your eyes.  Breathe, Shar, meditate.  Imagine yourself laying in a field of wild flowers or fresh cut hay.  Deep breaths, one – two in, one – two out. Relax.

The Arby’s bag began to rattle.  He’s going in.  My meditation cracks.  I decide not to open my eyes.

Breathe.The stench increases three fold.  Oh my heavens – WHAT is that??????  I’m suffocating.  I should go to the biffy.  No.  He will have to move, too.

Stick it out. Breathe.  Sleep.  Breathe.I drift off. . .

I stopped writing after that.  Too traumatic.  But, I think this guy would be a wonderful character in a story about how we learn something from each person we meet. I could have had a conversation happen in real life.  But, I slept.  Wasted an opportunity.  At least there is still an chance to make it happen in my story.

Thank you, Melonie, for having me revisit this character and memory.

But, more than that. . . for helping me safely put my writing out there today.

Shari 🙂

 

Letting Go of Needing to Know

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(art journal page by Shari Daniels)

I’ve been gone for a spell.  Six months, actually.  Goodness sakes.

Last fall, I went into retreat mode.  I had just come to the end of teaching my first online writing e-course (for 28 days straight) and was exhausted. The experience was more than I ever expected.  It felt like the bravest step I had ever taken and I was so grateful for the brave and beautiful souls that joined me in this first class.  They truly held my hand all the way through, cheering me on.  Honestly though, these women changed me, not only as a writer, but as a human being.  I felt my path shifting to new places as I wrote words for them every day.   So much was waiting to be born and I was beginning to bloom as I wrote for each person waiting for my message.

By September, I was exhausted.

Because I am an introvert by nature, a summer of online presence meant I needed a season to hibernate.  Well, it’s turned into almost two seasons.  My loud inner critic, Bernice, harped on me to get my butt moving, but I ignored her.  I told her things would be okay, because it’s really cold outside and it’s nice and cozy in here.

I had come across a blog entry from one of my favorite writers, Heather Kopp about quitting deeper and I could not shake it out of my brain.  She wrote about how we humans are always demanding to know what’s next in our lives.  We are in a constant state of planning in our date books, scheduling our days with action plans and dreams, needing to be in full control of our destiny.  Anxiety sets in when we don’t know how we are going to fit it all in or when we start thinking ahead into the fear of what might happen.

Well, it spoke to me big time.

I was in that place.

My mind was swimming with writing plans.  School was starting and I was working with new teachers helping to ease their anxieties.  All of my own children had finally emptied the nest and I worrying about them.  I wasn’t sleeping well – or eating well – or moving my body.

You are all sharp enough to know what happens when we go down that road.

I decided to quit all my plans for the time being and just be for awhile.  Julia Cameron calls it “restocking the well”.  I call it “being a hermit”.  But, whatever you call it, it’s been quiet, and I’m loving it.  I did some redecorating in my writing room (reorganized all of my books, bought a new chair, light and rug).  I read books.  I took naps.  I even started watching Downton Abby.  (If you have not started to watch this series, you do not know what you are missing.)

And, I filled five notebooks, one a month, of writing.

It was heavenly, writing for my eyes only. Gabby, my writing angel, showed up daily. She and I did lots of chatting, just about every day things, no real purpose in mind. Eventually, she pushed me to write of my fears, getting to the root of them and I ended up revising this old stuff into new stuff that served as a new truth.

Just the other day, I did some rereading of these notebooks.   I realized that they are full of guidance.  Words of healing.  Of joy.  Of pain.  Of surrender. . . of letting go. All of this writing  had become my spiritual practice.  Like prayer.

I’m taking baby steps back out into the world as I try to let go of needing to know where I am headed.

I just felt called to write this post today, so someone must need it.

Besides just me.

Shari 🙂

 

 

 

 

It’s Monday! What Are Your Reading? Summer of 2014

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Honestly,  this summer was one of savory reading.  My mind shifted to new galaxies of understanding.  My heart expanded beyond expansion and my soul soared.

There were a few books that had something to do with it.

Books have saved my life more than once, but there are some gems that push my being to places I did not know existed.

Let me give you a glimpse inside just one of my books of summer.

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I sought out a book on brokenness when I was feeling so much brokenness in the world.  You can read about this here on a post I wrote awhile ago.  Amazon guided me to Elizabeth Lesser and her book Broken Open.

Upon the arrival of my smily happy box from the UPS man, I ripped out Lesser’s book and immediately skimmed the back. These words stood out:

Elizabeth Lesser bravely and beautifully explores one of the most compelling questions of life: How do we emerge from suffering and challenge with real, encompassing wisdom and love?

These ARE the questions of life.  I know we keep transforming over and over, but what about the REAL challenges?  Like losing people you love, illness, and depression?  So many are suffering.  The world seems to be in a continuous state of hurt, confusion, lostness and pain right now.

I peppered this book with so many tracks of my thinking and sticky notes, that if I handed it off to someone else to read, they’d look at me like I had three heads.  It’s that good.  I wanted to memorize every word Lesser wrote — lodge it into my long term memory–I needed her words to latch onto in my own times of need.  And, to live them.

Is that crazy?  Have you ever wanted to MEMORIZE a book?

Here are some of the words that are stuck with me:

Lesser’s introduction grabbed me,

Issues I never thought I would face–of love and betrayal, passion and responsibility, loss and doubt—sprouted in the hidden places of my heart and led me into the dark words of real life.  It is those stories–the ones about the journey in and out of the woods–that I tell in this book.

Well, I’d been in that woods and felt guilty about it every time I took a road there.  Lesser writes~

To be human is to be lost in the woods.  None of us arrives here with clear directions on how to get from point A to point B without stumbling into the forest of confusion or catastrophe or wrongdoing.  Although they are dark and dangerous, it is in the woods that we discover our strengths.

I am reminded of Robert Frost’s poem, A Snowy Evening In The Woods, and how even he was tempted by the darkness.

How can one resist an invitation with words like this?  I didn’t know if I was more intoxicated with her use of language or anxious to hear about her plan for getting unlost.  I read this book as a reader and a writer through every line and paragraph. This little snippet was in the introduction in explaining how her stories were like “the teaching tales of older traditions.”

These small parables are sprinkled throughout the book, like tiny lights strung along a path.  Perched at the beginning of many of the stories and parables is a quotation or poem.  I realize that an opening verse is often regarded as ornamentation, but I mean for you to actually read these bits and scraps of poetry and prose. Some provide keys to the front doors of the stories; others are vehicles that can carry you all the way throughout the stories and back out into your life.

Captivated by the dance of language along with the wisdom of her journey in this book, I filled up my iced tea mug, grabbed my sun glasses and headed out to the lawn chair.

I’ll write about my lessons learned from this book in another post. . . or posts.

For now, if you are feeling a little broken, or know someone who is, this book is a gift to the mind, heart and soul.

Out beyond ideas

of wrong doing and right doing

There is a field.

I’ll meet you there.

~Rumi

 

Shari 🙂

 

 

Pondering on Four Big Questions; And A Showcase of Four Amazing Friends

 A dear writer-thinker-lady-friend kindly invited me to join in a blog hop and to ponder a few questions in where I am at in my journey of writing, creating, breathing and just being human. Well, of course, without a hesitation, I said yes ~ not to promote myself, but to make myself create some space to actually reflect on where I am right now, and where I might be headed. AND, I wanted to have the chance to shout out to the world some of the most amazing friends I’ve made out there in the writing, creating, heart and soul seeking world.

Jeff Goins, a writing teacher I’ve learned so much from, writes that “content is not king ~ it’s all about relationships.”  Well, we know we need to have something worth saying for someone to spend time reading it, BUT, if we don’t have others to share with, it’s only helping ourselves.

 So, here are the Four Big Questions ~

 1.  What am I working on?

 I love how Laura Risser Moss, in her blog, gratefulamazement,  writes that at this time in her life “the curtain on her Second Act is rising”.  I could not find more perfect words to say this is where I am as well.  My children are emptying the nest.  I’m having more time to discover who I really am – other than, wife, mother and teacher of children.

 I’m learning to listen to my body, heart and soul more, as my mind is being ordered to take more time to sit on the bench, or riding the pine, as my husband used to say during basketball season. It’s pretty hard to quiet a voice that’s been leading the parade for so many years, but my heart and soul are pretty pleased.

I’m in my bliss when I’m writing, teaching, creating, learning, helping or guiding others in finding their own true self, but also in helping others to speak and to trust their own voices.  I am working on a hodge-podge of projects right now to live out this bliss.

My bravest step begins August 1st, as a 28-Day Living the Writerly Life E-course.  I began writing this several years ago when I took an online course, called Flying Lessons, by Kelly Rae Roberts, but fear kept showing her scary face and I’d tuck it away.  Well, one day, when the scary monster was out barking at someone else, I hit publish and out to the world the course flew!  There was no turning back.  I can not contain the excitement I have bubbling up inside me to begin this journey guiding others in living like a writer and into hopefully believing that they truly are writers as well.

 In 2012, I vowed to listen to my soul and instill more creativity in my life.  Jeff Goins, was offering a free writing e-course at the time called, You Are A Writer, and this course became the door I entered that opened up an entire world of possibility.  I began two blogs, islandsofmysoul.com and theliteratemind.blogspot, joined a few writing groups, one called Tribe Writers,  and am now working on a book about listening in education.  It’s a timely book due to the increasing use of technology and lack of face to face communication.  This book was born two years ago, so I need to do a giddy-up on it before something more attractive diverts my attention.  It usually does.

I also have two other E-courses marinating in my brain right now as well.  One revolving around writing through our brokenness and the other, a course designed to heal ourselves while taking a journey through our mind, body, heart and soul.  I’m hoping to invite some other fabulous women into this e-course.  These courses came to me during my own writing and through a need.  Our world is going through a huge shift right now.  I’m feeling so much pain and brokenness “collectively”, as my friend Bridgette says, and my soul is crying to help do some healing in any way I can.  Perhaps this healing will take place through writing.

Julie Cameron writes that we need other creative sources besides writing, so that when writing feels stagnant, we can switch gears to another medium and that restocks the writing well.  Art journaling is this other passion.  While painting and using mixed media, messages of encouragement, inspiration and guidance fill my pages.  To keep my art journal girl happy, I participate in the Life Book 2014 online community of art journalists.  Each week is filled with a new lesson by an amazing artist and energetically filled connectedness with others.  Almost by magic, my art journal images often fit perfectly with my blog post writing.  Funny how that works.

 More recently, I’ve been nudged towards making Spirit Dolls. These are dolls created by a its maker to hold energy or an intention, lead one to a dream or to guide one in their path.

I’m not sure where these creative parts of my being will lead me, but for now, I’m just feeling the flow and enjoying the journey.

In August, I go back to my full-time job of being a literacy coach at a K-5 elementary school, so I fear writing and creating will slow down.  I am vowing not to let that happen this year as my artist self begs me to integrate creativity into my work wherever it’s possible.  Working with teachers and children, there’s plenty of room for this if I just pay attention.

2.  How does my work differ from others of it’s genre?

 Well, I’m not 100% positive as to what my “genre” is yet.

What I do know, is that my writing flows from my heart and soul.  It’s not always me putting those words on the page.  It might be poetry one day.  Another day, it could be a short narrative or reflective essay.  I’m still searching for my voice and theme, yet, I like to believe my words are healing and filled with an energy that radiates light, love, and hope.  Sharing my vulnerabilities and my own brokenness has connected me to others that feel pain, too.  If I can help others, even if only a few, to heal through the use of tools that have worked for me, then I am grateful.

3. Why do I write what I do?

I write what I do in order to live.  If I neglect writing, the rest of my life begins to get muddy. Foggy. Unclear.  Depression seeps in.  Writing gives me clarity and direction.  It clears the cobwebs and allows my soul to speak.

Most of my writing remains in notebooks.  I am faithful to Morning Pages each and every day – at least a full 3 pages of whatever comes out of my flowing pen.  Sometimes, words from these notebooks find their way into my blogs, but often, they remain in my notebook as answers to my wonders or lessons learned.

I write what I do on my blogs as a way to reach out to others who may be wrestling with what I wrestle with.  Perhaps they have tools they can share with me, as well.  But, mostly, it’s to share what has helped heal myself in hopes to help others.  It’s a way to build community and affirm to us all we are not alone and that we all share the same humanness.  I’ve learned that writing is one tool I can use to share my gifts of teaching and helping others heal ~ through words.

4. How does my writing process work?

Not very well.

Like I said, I am faithful to my Morning Pages every day, but beyond that, it’s a circus.  Writing for my eyes only are like breathing.  Once I desire to put something out there for the world, my hands hover over the keyboards for a lengthy period of time.  My fingers often weep at what comes out.  It can take me all day to do a blog post as I am also a bit of a researcher and feel obligated to have some valid words from others to support my own opinions.  I am critical of my words and attempt to weave in craft, trying out different leads and structures.

Once a blog post is written, I leave it sit for a period of time and come back to look at it with new eyes.  Of course, I won’t like it.  And, chances are, I’ll change the whole piece or choose just to chuck it.  If it doesn’t feel like it came from my heart, I can’t send it to the world.

One of the biggest roadblocks that hinders my process is the fear of ever sounding expert-ish, know-it-all-ish, self-promoting, judgmental, critical or laced with ego.  I scour my words for any evidence of these demons.  Often times, even when I know my words are written with love and compassion, my fear will tell me otherwise and the words will sit in my draft box indefinately.

My writing process truly is a love/hate relationship for me.

Wow. . . those were some pretty thought provoking questions.  The answers are true for me today, however tomorrow they might be totally different.  These four questions might be path unfolding for anyone to ponder on.

Now ~ here are some amazing writer-artist-healer-people, that I call my friends~

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Laura Moss is beyond grateful to be able to say she has survived being Mom to 4 spirited girls, a battle with aggressive breast cancer, and some difficult seasons in her almost-25-year marriage. She calls herself a Creative, is drawn to beauty in all its forms, and loves loving on people. You can find more of her musings at gratefulamazement.wordpress.com.

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 Leslie Molen is a doll and textile artist.

I have been a full time artist for over twenty years, specializing in dollmaking and textile arts. I have had discussions with friends about what keeps me going, the drive to continue onward.

 Many comment on how I nice it is that I have found my passion…

pas·sion

noun \ˈpa-shən\ : a strong feeling of enthusiasm or excitement for something or about doing something.

I tell them it is my calling, I must do this- create in cloth.

call·ing

noun \ˈkȯ-liŋ\

: a strong desire to spend your life doing a certain kind of work or impulse toward a particular course of action especially when accompanied by conviction of divine influence.

And so my journey to create in cloth continues…this past year I have taken a step back from teaching so that I may start to work towards focusing on my personal art. It is a slow endeavor that will take time to nurture into existence! Stay tuned!”

You can visit Leslie’s page at Rootie Studio and her blog at from these Hands.  Prepare to get lost in her studio!

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James Prescott is  a writer and author from Sutton, near London in the UK.  He loves writing, encouraging people, and seeing people discover their true identity.

“My life journey keeps on teaching me lessons about discovering hope in an imperfect world, and how we can discover our own unique stories in the the midst of this. I share those lessons here in all their brutal honesty.

I’m believe deeply in the power of encouragement. When I was only 12 years old my Dad gave me the opportunity to help him write a major newsletter – which set me on a writing journey. That journey has led me to create this blog and author three books.

If you’re interested in discovering your true identity, if you have a passion to make a difference in the world, if you know you’re broken but are looking for hope, you’re welcome here.

If you want open and honest discussion about issues which matter, or like facing up to the important but difficult questions of life, or you’re a human being, this blog is for you too.”

Early in 2015 James will be releasing his first full-length book, ‘Mosaic of Grace: God’s Beautiful Reshaping of Our Broken Lives’.

To read James’ written words, visit him at jamesprescott.co.uk, or read his bi-monthly posts over at digi-disciple, run by the Big Bible Project, and he also guest posts for prominent authors and bloggers Sarah Bessey, Jeff Goins & Mary DeMuth, amongst others.

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Bridgette Doer connects others to their inspired intuitive life.  I’ve worked with Bridgette and she is the real deal.

“I am overflowing with creative, empowering energy with so much anticipation for what is possible for all of us. There is so much untapped potential, so much capacity. We are much more than we believe we are at this moment.

When I accepted the invitation to be a channel for empowering women by inspiring intuition, the fun energy of the Fairy Grasshopper was created. It is my mission to activate hope, inspiration, and POWER  to help to you grow and glow!  I am in love with my Inspiring Psychic and Soulful Women Empowerment work! It’s not just my job- it is who I AM. I look forward to connecting with you, to cheering you on!”

Bridgette’s website and blog is at fairygrasshopper.com.  She is one amazing woman.

The Beginnings of My Spirit Doll

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The Universe if a crazy place and every day, I am guided to where and who I need to go next along my path.  It affirms my belief in a higher power, yet baffles me at the same time.

Last week was one of those weeks where you are shaken a bit.  Life feels cluttered, too much is coming in, events happen that upset the apple cart.  I remained true to meditating and listening to my inner voice, and one morning I opened an email that was just junk.  An email from Pinterest that suggests other pins you might like.  If you are on Pinterest, you get these daily and I typically just delete them.  Well, on this day, I was guided to check them out.  Mind you, it was 8:30am ~ it’s very dangerous to go on Pinterest this early in the day, especially when my mind is at it’s peak and I should be doing more constructive things. . . like WRITING!

Regardless, I was sucked in.  Too late.  Hooked by the dragon.

I was led to a spirit doll.  I love dolls.  Years ago, when my children were small, I made cloth dolls from recycled clothing for craft fairs and shops to earn extra money.  Every doll was a part of me.

Then, as my kids became more involved in sports, I began teaching full-time, the doll hobby was neglected and eventually I sold all the material and collections I accumulated for doll making at a garage sale.  It was extra weight that I needed to clear out.  I needed to make room for the new.

But still, I’m drawn to dolls and doll makers.  I feel a pull whenever a doll maker talks of her work or I see a handmade doll.

This particular spirit doll let me to a woman’s spirit doll wall page of which I began pinning away from.  Inspiration rose inside of me.  I could feel my soul coming alive and my mind swirling with possibilities.  I knew I needed to make a spirit doll somehow and venture back into the world of dolls. I missed them so much and they were calling me.

After a substantial loss of time, and feeling a little giddy, I decided I needed to thank this lady for the inspiration she brought me today.  I found her on Facebook and sent her a small message of appreciation.

Immediately, she messaged back telling me about who she was.

I was intrigued and was nudged to ask her about her journey.

She replied, “Why don’t you give me a call.  Here’s my cell #.”

Wow.  Really?  Cell #? Who does that?

I told her I would sometime.  Truly wanting to, but, I know how busy people are and honestly hate bothering them.  I was sure she was just being polite.

“How about now?  Do you have a minute?” she continued.

“Ummm. . . okay,” I replied.  Holy Kamoly.  This amazing woman was serious.  

This was just too much.  But, my intuition said, “Call her.”

And. . . I actually did have time.

So, I did.

We talked for 2 hours.  I filled 18 sticky notes with thoughts.  She felt like an old soul who had gone before me.

I shared with her my apple cart tipping over and my forks in the road and she told me I needed to make a spirit doll for guidance.  Gather a group of women together and create spirit dolls.  There is power and energy in this, she said.  Your spirit doll will tell you what you need.  Listen to her.  

She led me to  Joanna Powell Colbert’s website, where a How To Make A Spirit Doll e-book is free.  Thank you, Joanna.  Oh my goodness, my energy centers were just spinning and flowing.

I am so grateful for the women that have come into my life as mentors and guides.  Miraculously, when my journey with one woman ends, another appears for the next leg on the path.

Off to the thrift store I went to snatch up anything that spoke to me for my Spirit Doll.  I know my theme/intention for this doll will be of fearlessness, protection (energy) and peace.  I did not googling and was brought to ancient Goddess Tara.  Hmmm. . .

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but it feels right.  

Sometimes, we just have to trust.

Who will join me?

Shari 🙂