Athena Dreams Design

Do Our Words Reflect Our True Selves?

After All I Did Believe - work in progress

I have been thinking a lot lately about my words: the words that I type here on this blog, the words I speak aloud to myself and to friends, the words that I use in my paintings, and the voice and person that is attached to those words.  I come back again and again to this thought: do my words accurately reflect who I am? are my thoughts true and authentic? am I the person, my words represent, and how I can I do a better job crafting my thoughts to best put forward my experiences and ideas?

I have often found that blogging, at best, can be an awkward experience for me. I started this blog to be able to communicate with some of the bloggers that I had been commenting and having e-mail correspondence with, so that I could share some of myself with them. It was less about growing any kind of business as an artist, and more about delving into a community that went beyond my local experience and broadened my interactions and growing friendships. The awkwardness, I think, comes in when I can't hear someone's actual voice, and they can't hear mine.  So much of human communication and interaction is about tone and timbre of voice, facial expression, and body language and all those things can get lost in a written communication. And so in this blog medium I have sometimes found myself feeling deaf and unskilled at "listening" to someone else's written word, as well as mute and unable to communicate my own thoughts.

And so I come back again to the word of the year for me: Authenticity. [NOTE: I find it highly amusing that I chose for myself the word "balance" as my word for 2008, and  yet, this whole year I have been talking about authenticity.]  In the last year I have been lucky enough to meet some of the people who I so admire and whose words so deeply speak to me through their blogs. And sometimes when meeting these people in "real" life, I have found myself wondering a couple of things (no direct responses to this are needed, these are just some inner thoughts): Does my voice reflects the person that people meet, as I feel the majority of theirs have? and how do I stay authentic and real in the moment?

Then, my mind meanders to another thought: what do people look for in the blogs they read? what makes them feel a connection, or a thread of understanding? On one level, we all are writing about ideas or events that are important or meaningful for us, sharing some of the stories of our lives, and sharing images of our work, and photos of moments in our lives. On another level, we are reaching out for connection, and community and an opportunity to share this human experience with others, on whatever level we are experiencing it. 

I have found that I am most interested in reading creative/art/craft/design blogs (those are just the genres I gravitate towards) that speak about the writers experience, the writers thoughts. Delving deeply into an experience - good or bad - and ladling up conclusions, new understandings, more questions or that ever elusive a-ha moment; just like we would dip our spoons into a beautiful bowl of steaming soup and bring up a potato, some corn and a perfectly stewed piece of chicken all in one spoonful. For me, there is something so completely rich and moving and heart-stirring in reading someone's deepest, truest words and feeling that kinship of experience or of confusion or of flat out joy.

I realise now, after starting this blog for contact and community, that my other hope is to improve my writing skills, hone them like a beautifully polished piece of black walnut, glaze them with the perfect ceramic patina, and paint them in all the colours of an authentic and truthful palette. 

A writing teacher of mine in college used to quote some long dead writer: "We are our words", or something to that effect. At the time I didn't think about that statement one way or the other, I just thought: huh, that's cool; as only a nineteen-something can, and moved on to working on whatever I was writing at the time. 

Now, I think back and say outloud to myself: Yes. 

We truly are our words. 

The way we each string together a sentence to describe our world at any given moment is unique to us. Isn't that the most beautiful thing? Only you can describe the same tree that 5 other people might be describing, in your unique way. So much of our daily worlds and our culture are about artifice and what looks good on the outside, and what will sell, and what will look perfect; but to live a life built on words and thoughts and ideas that are truly ours, that help to describe and create an authentic life, however flawed and difficult, now that helps me breathe so much easier, so much deeper, and I can begin to smell the lavender out in the garden and the crackly, moist scent of autumn on the breeze.

So this is my manifesto to my writing/blogging self, to my whole self really: To keep growing an Authentic Voice, to dip my spoon ever deeper into the bowl and maybe find a few peas to surprise myself with, and so that my words can describe a true self, and a true life. 

Choose All Possibilities and then Remember to Stay

Pendant from the talented and beautiful hands of Liz Lamoreux

o-pen [oh-puh n] adjective*

1. not closed or barred at the time, as a doorway by a door, a window by a sash, or a gateway by a gate: to leave the windows open at night.

2. having the interior immediately accessible, as a box with the lid raised or a drawer that is pulled out.

3. relatively free of obstructions to sight, movement, or internal arrangement: an open floor plan.

4. not covered or closed; with certain parts apart: open eyes; open mouth.

5. without covering, esp. a protective covering; unprotected; unenclosed.

6. accessible, as to appeal, ideas, or offers: to be open to suggestion.

7. exposed to general view or knowledge; existing, carried on, etc., without concealment: open disregard of the rules.

8. generous, liberal, or bounteous: to give with an open hand.

9. acting publicly or without concealment, as a person.

10. unreserved, candid or frank, as persons or their speech, aspect, etc.: an open manner.

Of the 86+ possible definitions 

of the word Open, 

I picked my 10 favourites. 

Now, the fun begins: 

how to put all these 

possible variations 

into practice: 

daily.

A lifetime's work: this being open

and the joy of it all is

it's subject to all

and sundry 

interpretations

as each day unfolds.

*Brave will be for another day...

Finding New Homes .:. a Seasonal Give-Away

I have a problem. 

I hold onto too much stuff.

I get down to a certain level of excavating, and can't bare to throw some things away. 

So, in the spirit of my favourite season.

In the spirit of the autumn winds

blowing things around,

I would like to give away some holiday cards.

 

The 3 above are Holiday Botanicals 

The 5 above are Holiday Mandalas (or Whirls & Swirls) and have gold or silver foiling on them

These are cards that I designed for a local stationery company, and I have had the artist sample boxes on my shelves for about 2 years now. They need to find homes where they will be used - written on and sent out to friends and families with cheery salutations of the season. I have 8 designs and each box is filled with one card design. (I actually did send out a bunch, but I always want different ones to send each year, and so they sit, sad and lonely).

SO, here's the deal, 

leave me a comment 

if you want some holiday cards, 

for the holiday season. 

That's it. 

Just leave a comment saying you want some cards. 

If you have a fave: colour or image, say so, 

but just so no one is disappointed

I can't guarantee you'll get exactly the one you mention.

Thanks!

Beads on a Windowsill

Often times in the midst of cleaning/rearranging/purging I get distracted . . .  Today it was the sun starting to make its descent in the sky, and it showed to me some beads on my windowsill. 

They have been there for longer than I can remember, and somehow, it is the first time I have seen them, like this. Glowing. Happy. Shining.

Makes me wish that we could all catch a glimpse of ourselves, at a moment when we least expect it, and feel: Glowing. Happy. Shining. Perfect in our own beauty.

The Merits of Buying a Lottery Ticket and/or Dreaming Bigger

The other day I heard myself say "I never win anything", when talking to a friend on the phone about the merits of buying a lottery ticket, and what our chances would be for winning. I think the topic began with politics, moved onto the economy, and you can see where the topic of lottery tickets might have come in. 

She said: "oh, I think of you as being very lucky, I bet you would win something." To which I replied: "no, I never win anything."  But I woke up this morning with a thought: that's not so true.

In August, my name was picked out of Maurice Chevalier's hat (who could kid about that) and I won the print of my choice from TangoBaby's extensive and totally moving and wonderful photographs. I chose Early Sunday Morning, and tho not showing up well in this photo, you can go see this print and more of here work over here. OH, and she has a book out too!

And then in September, after reading a really great post on Leonie's site about ways to get past the frustrations and fears that can come up around creative dreams, I signed up for her newsletter, and put myself in a pool to win a print of my choice.

And won.

So, perhaps the lesson here is: 

Dream Bigger, yes! 

But also dream 

deeper

wider

fuller

higher

taller 

and generally,

just dream 

more regularly

because I most certainly

might win.

Painting with the Rain

It is 8pm on Friday night, there is rain pitter pattering outside, I am in my studio painting (where I have been all day long) and I just looked up and said to myself, "this: now this, is a perfect moment." Husband is out playing a gig, rain is falling, the house is totally silent except for the rain, and the sound of my brush swooshing, or the sound of my pen scratching, oh and then there is the sound of my voice, talking to myself.

We haven't had real rain here since near the end of February, the skies dried up early last winter, and I have been awaiting the return of cloudy skies and rainy days and rainy nights for quite a long long time. And I have not let myself have a whole entire day, and now an evening, in the studio creating, in longer than I can remember.

So the rain and I are having a little reunion of sorts: it is falling and I am painting. Oh some days, some days, are just so very good.

You're Out of the Woods . . .

Literally, well, yes, and also no; and metaphorically, hmmm well, no. . .  the mess, the clutter, the usual state of my studio, and then some. And, my schedule, well, that's all gone to hell in a handbasket... (I always imagine one of my grandmother's summer straw purses, on it's way to the fires of hell, when I hear that phrase, and it's always the same purse I imagine).

All week I have had this song running in my head from the Wizard of Oz, you know the one that a bunch of angelic (maybe a little creepy) voices sing in the background, I think just before the gang arrives at the gates of Emerald City. I don't think it has a name, which works for my state of mind too . . . but, now, close your eyes and hear the high voices singing:

 

I never knew all the words, but of course Google does, and YouTube has a sing-along video for the occasion . . . and who knew there was so much religious symbolism... step into the light... march up to the gate... okay, the song is still playing in my head, but with all the words visible it takes on a whole new meaning...  maybe my new internal soundtrack should move along to being Whistle While You Work...