summer

I've been getting messy with ideas, thoughts and concepts in my head - struggling with the whats and how tos - because I would love to document this Summer... It's been, and still is, interesting ;) I'm running into a lot of things I sort of knew about myself - stuff involving rules and guidelines. Being good enough, and allowing myself. Full stop. Allowing myself is very inclusive, and even if I wanted to get less vague, explain myself, I can't. Not yet, maybe never. What I'm finding out is - perhaps it doesn't matter. And that - is revolutionary. 

I don't have the peace and quiet to come out with everything in my head right now. It's Summer. We're halfway through the first week of Squirt's school holidays and life is different around here ;) It's noisy, filled with life, questions, blow-by-blow reports of how to build the perfect Lego Duplo house - and everything else ;)

"Can I ride my bike, mamma, where are we going, what's next, can I have ice cream, will you come to the playground with me, what's for dinner, why does everyone go on holidays, don't you think I could get a present because it's holidays?"

:D

It's good, and I mean that ;) But the main thing I'm confronting at the moment is - how do I document this Summer? What do I draw, what's important, where does joy live, and does that matter? Where am I, what am I looking for and what do I need to remember about being here, now, in this moment, Squirt's first Summer holiday after starting school? Yes indeed, where am I in the middle of all this? Can I let go, enjoy? Can I hold onto my newly found sanity without all this time I've learnt to spend with myself? Will I still be here, at least somewhat, when Squirt goes back to school, or will I need to reinvent the wheel all over again? 

Questions. Lots of them. But what I was thinking this morning is - if I don't start doing, documenting things - putting them somewhere, sharing it all - then there is nothing that can grow, either. As long as everything that's in my head - stays there, concept-form, nothing happens. What isn't out there can't evolve into something new, can't be tweaked. It can be thought to death of course - I'm good at that, that I know. But can I work it? Can I be there & do? Can I be here, can I - at least try - to blog about it as it happens? The blue skies, clouds, the humidity and the rain? The happy and the something - the mundane, the questions and the yays of it? 

The only thing I know now - is that if I don't try, nothing happens. So I'm confronting another little truth about myself here. The belief that without a script, nothing comes of any plan. I'm here, and I'm going in without a plan. I'm all organised around this new-found - blankness :) I'm going to photograph what strikes me when it does, and draw what bites my pencil. Daily, as much as I can. That's my plan. So here's what's happened so far:

We went to the local swimming hole ('t Twiske) on Monday, and had a lot of fun :D I'd completely resisted the idea of going there, putting on my bathing suit and being where I was - playing with my kid in my white and less-than-perfect body with all these other people there - but I went. For the first time since we moved here back in 2010, I'm one of those moms, and it felt like a weight was lifted! I know it sounds dramatic, but it's true nonetheless. I don't have to wish a cool mom onto my kid - I am one now, and not just because he had fun, either ;)

I cleaned the garden on Tuesday, and here's where we can lounge now:

Of course, that depends on the weather, too ;) It's not as hot or sunny anymore, but to be truthful, both me and the kid are better for it. And it looks cozy ;)

I cleaned out the sand pit and returned it to the neighbour we borrowed it from. Weepy moment. On the bright side, I found and photographed the biggest slug EVER underneath :D But that's a drawing still waiting to happen, so you need to hold your breath for it ;)

Yesterday was a bit of a non-event because I didn't (and still don't) feel too hot. A cold in the wings, in fact. But I did draw nonetheless:

Squirt said he thought holidays warranted a present, and I agreed. A non-pedagogical moment perhaps, but us parents are allowed some of those. Well, I am, anyway ;) Plenty of those, let's not get started ;) Besides, he only woke me twice during my sort-of-sick on-the-couch 15-minute-nap. So there ;) He chose a small Duplo Zoo set, and I drew it. Memories are where you colour them, right?! ;)

That's what Summer 2013 looks like, so far :)

& I'll be back. That's as solid a promise I can make, being here without a plan ;)

How are you?! How's Summer, or Winter, where you are?

tea

I've been doing some incremental thinking ;) Life's been really busy lately, but it's been good. There isn't always time and space to crawl to the bottom of things. Full stop. But I've been okay with that - it's brought insight, instead of mayhem. & that's a whole lot, coming from me ;)

I've been thinking about staying close to myself - as opposed to running off, exploring other lives. I've been thinking about my feet, about finding them where they hang out - and I'm slowly trying to bend myself around the idea that needing to stick close to my feet can also mean - is okay to mean - not always necessarily feeling them, but keeping them in sight. Not losing them altogether. Things might well be perfect if I could feel my feet no matter what - but maybe that's just another one of those things we're being sold.

You're not off to the shop to buy a wabi sabi tea kettle - this is a metaphor, so bear with me ;) You go to the store and they'll try to sell you a Brand Spanking New Idea of Tea in the 21st Century. Because the People selling The Kettle are all about Tea. 

But life - my life - isn't at the bottom of things all about Tea. I need tea to swallow life. So that Perfect Tea will never be all that, outside the Kettle People's laboratory. Yet I buy the idea and feel less than perfect because it doesn't glu my wabi sabi life...

But nothing will - & everything will. It's inside my expectations, eventually - and inside myth. Back to my feet? They're no myth & they're totally wabi sabi. & I could buy an idea - a laboratory-perfect idea about my own feet: that they'll never do unless I feel them, always. But outside, in the world, in my life? What if anchoring means: knowing where my feet are, approximately? So I know where to find them when there's space and time to have a chat and really check in? So I can give them attention once a day perhaps, instead of expecting nothing less than an open line - feeling disappointed and at fault for losing the connection more often than I care to think? What if that would do? What if that would be enough to feel I'm still here, still near enough?

I think connection gets lost at times because I've got overgrown ideas about its nature - bought straight from the Laboratory Doors. What if anchoring really means - to buy from a street vendor & sip from a cracked cup on the corner of Life and Lost? That feels like something I could actually DO!

It's worth a thought. Or better yet - let's have tea! Let's chat & stroll down Life a little, together - admiring our feet. They take us places - even on Lost - and that's magnificent knowledge, that!

expo

So here's how I'm hanging :)

Yup, bottom-right, that's me, naked in a shop window ;) Next to the toilet cleaner. Cool thing to claim about yourself ;)

That's the kid, behind the doors. Not too impressed being left behind ;)

I love the orange and blue feathers & thingies behind the drawings ;) And my own reflection ;)

And that's the kid again. Paying me back for leaving him inside the shop. Doing his own thing rather than pose with his mamma's art ;)

Yup, that's my art hanging somewhere :) And it really is a giant step! I'm not making light of it - this is an expo in a shop window, and it won't launch my artist carreer right now, just yet ;) - but it definitely does something in my head! Knowing that it's out there - I'm out there - for people to see makes it much harder to deny that I might be an artist :) We're going to have to see what happens when it's taken down - but for now, I'm an artist - and it's AWESOME :D I'm holding on to that feeling!

& not just that, I've sold some art work from my all-new Etsy shop & all :D Thank you so much, lovely friends, for supporting me - and for getting me to pretty much skip to the post counter singing 'I'm selling my ART, people!' :D Yes, I wanted to share that mental image, because it felt really, really good :)

Of course there is contemplation going on in the background. Wild thoughts and notions. What it all means and where it will go. And how it will take me along for rides. And how to stick with believing. But they're not for here and now. Now and here is for feeling proud and excited  - and wishing you the same!

Thank you so much for being here and being excited with me - it really means a lot :D 

x!

news

I know you might be expecting the photos for the second assignment of the Pure Photo Workshop, but I didn't get around to it... It's hard to admit, because I strongly feel that committing to take part means you commit to take part, but I've got some stuff going on in my 'real life' & I sort of forgot to make time. Saturday snuck up on me! All these single-day national holidays and visiting relatives (my father-in-law is here right now) warp time a little, and my head is spinning just a bit - so, quite out of character, I've given myself permission to drop out, this week ;)

& without much more ado, here's why I'm out-of-sorts: I was asked to show some of my work! I was asked! It's hard for me not to back that up with a story that makes it a little less impressive, but I won't :) I'm just going to go with 'I was asked to show some of my work' :)

The 25th of May to the 1st of June this year will be the Dutch week for non-professional art, and the Fair Trade gift shop (Wereldwinkel) where I volunteer is taking part, displaying art in their shop window. I've never made a secret of drawing a lot - so people know that about me ;) - but I was very surprised when the shop coordinator emailed me to ask if I wanted to be the artist to exhibit!

We decided on what to display - I was quite impressed with how she went for my style, as opposed to the more neutral work I'd slipped in - and I've been working on the prints, polishing little blemishes away since Wednesday ;) Here's what will be shown:

 :D

There's a lot of mayhem in my head. I'm fighting not to down-play, nor to over-stretch and it's hard work! I'm doing okay, I think, but I don't have a lot to say right now. No oversight, no insight either. The funny thing is, every time I come out of a bad stretch, promising myself that for now it will be all about drawing for myself, to be me inside my life, something happens. Something that shakes me up, tells me something, although I'm never quite clear on what exactly, while I'm in the middle of it all. This time, I'm trying to stay calm (haha). I'm going to try and wait this out - to see what might have shifted on the other side. Instead of forcing things to shift right now ;)

I got this flyer in my local art supply shop:

I took it, along with other flyers, and it wasn't until hours later, when I properly looked, that I saw I'm on it :D Not just that, it says 'kunstenaars', which means artists :D So even when I might still have a hard time referring to myself as an artist, this flyer doesn't, so it must be true ;)

(* the T means 'tekenen', which means 'drawings')

I'm ready for brighter days, and I'm not just talking about Summer and sun ;) Hope you're well! What's happy in your life?

waiting

Curves, right? I love curves! I love soft, glowing, stretching! Colourful curves! My own feminine curves - sure, why not?! & I'll take Ireland - rolling and green. But my mind is more like a Picasso at his most cubist - upside down & all. Yes, I've got a flair for the dramatic - working on it - and as far as metaphors go, this one is a stretch, even for me ;) But I travel rugged terrain at times, & I get lost.

When I wrote about waiting for the next curve, for life to veer back to me, that's true. I don't mean I stop everything, get a nanny, a cook & a cleaner and find a quiet spot to suspend - I know full well that I need to be available for the curve. Whether the curve finds me, or I find the curve, it happens inside my life; not on a mountain top or in an attic room. I have suspended myself for about 10 years, so I know this. When you hide from life, Fabulous can't find you. I'm living proof - to myself if to no one else - that you can untie yourself, finally, eventually. But it's a ridiculous effort, and it costs, and I don't want to do it again.

But I do wait. While life goes on. I don't wait for wisdom, or insight - I know by now the truest stuff clatters onto your life path when it bloody well feels like it - much like Fabulous, quite unbidden. And it falls inside your life. It doesn't come haloed, with a free retreat (yes! The rolling green hills of Ireland, please!) to practise welcoming it, unwrapping your own version of picture-perfect upon returning home. No. It comes and you leave it where it fell - almost unseen because it doesn't fit quite yet - or you pick it up, take it in and try to wrap yourself around it - all while ironing an evening meal onto the cleaned table. High heels optional.

But still, I wait. While life goes on, because I've got an awesome 4-year-old who doesn't wait, for no man, nor his mamma. And I'm so, so grateful for that kid, because I can't adjourn myself. And he makes me laugh out loud of course, and he makes me angry, and he makes me feel clueless and fun and he makes me want to throw my hands up in despair, and he makes me feel alive! I'm living lives in my days, and although this isn't about the boy, and he's got no responsibility to keep me sane, he does, inadvertently. And he rocks. Because and solidly despite.

But I'm waiting, nonetheless. While I live, care, draw, do laundry and talk to fellow moms at the school gates, about nothing in particular. I wait for zest and juicy to come back. Yes. I know. Curves. I know life isn't all awesome and Flow and Fabulous. I spent enough time observing life from a lay-by to know that the fast lane kills. But somehow, and I haven't figured out the why or the how quite yet, I never dip to cruising speed; my engine splutters and I swerve! Not quite into oncoming traffic - not much, not always, anyway - but it feels like I'm going the wrong way all of a sudden. Like nothing makes sense anymore. Like an alien inside my own skin, inside my own daily, unchanged life. Like I said, my moods, my je ne sais quoi? I curve Picasso-esque! When Fabulous leaves, comfort leaves in her wake. Is that crazy? Pathology, anyone? Wait! Don't answer that ;) This is my life, wonky as it gets at times, and the skipping little girl-part of me doesn't want to know, she just wants to learn to deal!

So I wait and wear daily routine as a life vest of sorts. Holding on to what I know matters, even if I can't feel it then and there. Going through the motions. Trying to stay afloat while mild to moderate panic and despair wash over me, and nothing feels quite good enough to keep me grounded where I know I live. I can't pinpoint where it starts, or why - eventhough I think I know at times. In the end, it feels like everything. Like I lose the healthy filters between me and my world and everything washes over me. I feel defenseless - I don't know what's important anymore, so everything becomes weighty and serious. While I still deep-down know I don't need to quit or give up on anything I'm learning to embrace as solidly me and beautiful, I can't touch that knowledge and it takes most of my energy not to let go, to wash out; change my skin and start over again, being who I'm not - apologise.

This cycle is familiar. I'm just starting to recognise it, but the truth of it feels old, well-worn. Like it's always been like this. Not Fabulous, she's still quite new - she introduced herself when I emerged from where I wasn't. But how I lose my rhythm, my song, how I disappear - even now that I'm generally - really - quite comfortable inside my skin and my life? Old, old fabric, right there... From Fabulous into hiding. Never past go to collect salary or a soft pillow to land. Straight into that austere place where I can't quite grasp where or why I matter anymore. Until it passes. Because it does. An unmarked doorway, unobtrusive - corner-of-the-eye stuff, never there when you look for it? I don't know. Hindsight, looking back, I can never see how I came to that place nor how I left there. It just - unhappens. It dissolves. So yes. I wait until it does.

So I know this, about myself. I disappear. I go where I need to go, but I can't go out of my way. I've known this for a long time, and I have a grudging understanding for it - for no other reason than the fact that it comes and it hangs out, regardless. But I'm not okay with it. I can't stand shapeless things! Of course I've always poked and prodded, tried to turn it inside-out. Because it bites me where I'm trying to be soft! It feels like everything I've learned about being me, everything I'm learning to accept, to laugh about, to respect or to cuddle, suddenly becomes moot. Ridiculous, weird in a faulty, flawed way, all over again - until it isn't anymore. Until I'm back, re-hinged, oiled & in working order. Just like that. Everything that gained weight till it mattered becomes ridiculous in turn and I'm made to look like a fool in my own eyes till I smile, grin, laugh out loud and shrug.

I'm waiting my way up and out right now, and I think I see light ahead. About time, because I've been here for weeks. I'm reporting from the inside, and it's hard. I've been writing and rewriting this for days. But it's important. It feels important. To remember this when it takes flight again  - the whole thing, as it is, not the snippets in my journal; those just reflect the quality of frustration, yellowing before the ink is dry.

This is a wart. A big one. One that's been colouring my life for as long as I can remember - now that I allow myself to really look. And I have an inkling about it. The first idea that I might not have to just accept and live with this, for ever, just the way it is. Something about the why of the whole thing. Something really changes once you start looking at yourself as essentially okay. Even when you feel like you're solidly not. Stuff that I always saw as proof for not quite, suddenly becomes the raw material of who I already am. It feels like - somehow - I just need to translate this. The little girl inside has been telling me this all along, but it's taken me long to listen: I need to find out how to DEAL. 

I need to find out how to deal, because after all this time, after everything, I refuse to accept that I'm faulty, flawed, or even weird. How's that for a salty truth?! I'll go with intense. I'll give you that. Because I don't believe it's a flaw - it's a trait, and one that I'm okay with. One that I'm starting to value even! On good days, of course ;)

I'm intense, and I'm open. And I don't know how to hit the breaks. I don't think I have to change, pull up my guards - I'm learning to like myself and my honesty - but I need to learn to break - get quiet and assess. Before Picasso breaks for me and everything turns wonky. And this is new and tentative, but I think I can learn to save myself - before I fall apart. And knowing that this comes from the bottom of the barrel and I'm all naked in there, shouting anyway? As a woman in progress, I think that means there is truth in it. And hard work. Yes, that too ;) But I'm good with that - there's courage and hope in finding something to work with!

So how are you?! Do you know how to break?

resigning

I've been walking around with my head in the clouds lately. Everything felt gorgeous! Things weren't smooth, necessarily, but the yeahs outweighed the what's-its for weeks! Fabulous! She came out of nowhere and waved magic around me!

And now, all of a sudden, walking in high-heeled shoes just doesn't work anymore. I put them on, I lean in, but it doesn't make me smile. The awesome is gone. I put them on to practise, and frankly because I want to hang on to amazing, but it doesn't work like that. That much is clear. I'm trying! In fact, I'm wearing them right now! But Fabulous has left. Leaving me trying to grab, hold on - knowing I can't win. Not like that, anyway.

This is tentative, at best, but I'm thinking it's all inside the difference between feeling it and trying to ride the wave. Living it, as opposed to trying to grab the story line, holding on to it for dear life. Going about your life with feeling, and letting Fabulous find you as you are. Warts & all, of course.

Somewhere along the line, by the wayside of talking about Fabulous, I forgot to feel her where she lives. I'm not all that familiar with Fabulous quite yet, but here's what I'm finding out; she needs to be felt. She doesn't like to be cemented. She doesn't want to be caught or captured, she likes to be free. She'll stay as long as you feed her, but you can't talk her back on the couch with you. 

And that, quite honestly, sucks! Because I talk! I've spent my life trying to capture and catch, trying to hold on and keep! My relationship with flexibility is new, and anything but flexible quite yet! I've always lassoed words around everything, knitted stories around what's up. Never mind that it didn't really work in any long run, ever - the point is, I'm slap-bang in the middle of the pradigm shift of a lifetime, and right now, I really feel the depth of neither here, nor there, quite yet!

Some stuff happened. That means, in this instance, that a can of worms was re-opened and I've been thinking about my womb again. I wish I could just say don't DO that, then!, but that would be too easy (because I can see a future road of Regret stretch out before me - mirage-style - if I let this whole thing lie where it's sleeping). So it's a good thing, I think. There are things you can't put off for too long. You can't leave them lounging in the back of your fridge, because no matter what their shelf-life is, at some point they will grow fuzz and legs and jump you. When it's least convenient. Yup.

But I was doing so well! I was hanging out with Fabulous, and we liked each other! And the crap thing about cans of worms? You can never just grab one worm and eat it with ketchup. When you start pulling, there's always a tangle of them, and they're never quiet and thoughtful and patient. They don't listen to reason. They mess up the kitchen you just cleaned in your awesome red boots and what you want to do is - you want to scream and send them packing. Stuff them back. Anything to keep Fabulous around! Anything not to have to go anywhere with the worms!

But what you need to do is - sit down in a puddle of sauce, right then and there, worms everywhere, and resign. Give up fighting to keep Fabulous where she feels she isn't wooed, and regroup.

It's really hard for me to hold on to what's going well, what's feeling good and wholesome and right when there are worms screaming at me from the opened fridge, but that's something I do need to learn. I need to listen to the worms and hang out with Fabulous. Maybe not quite at the same time, but I need to learn to be bendy around both. 

It's hard not to drown in never quite good enough - again. It's hard not to tell myself see, you tried, but it didn't last - we always knew you'd fall of your perch, didn't we?

But in the end, the only person deciding whether I'm good enough to run with my warts, in heels, juggling worms, pencils, my kid, my reproductive organs, my online presence and my social life - is me. Inside my life - though other people might have opinions - I'm the only one who can say I am enough and run with that, see where it takes me.

So I'm here, gathering courage again. The courage to sit down. To resign and to let the worms do their dance. To bravely show life my open palm; come sit with me. We might not always be best friends, but we can have coffee, right? I'm enough, warts & all, and I'll have you sit with me just the way you are today, too; let's just see what happens when we don't fight or try so hard to sort it all out, between us!

It's a lot like my yoga practise these days. I often find myself thinking that this isn't comfortable, I don't like this! But then I tell myself - it isn't about being all cool with the stretch, it's about the stretch. It's about being there, even when it's uncomfortable, and hanging out with that.

Yes. Like I said, I talk well. So I'm off to lean in now. And while that might prove a whole lot harder than writing about it, I'm doing it, anyway.

See ya, Fabulous! I know you'll be back, and I'll be here. Sauce on my chin, worms in my hair, but I'll be here. Wearing my stupid heels!

** those hands were drawn for Koosje's course, and I LOVED doing them! After a whole lot of procrastinating and I can't do this! I don't DO people, I don't DO body parts! ;)

Koosje is a super teacher, her course is still working magic, even if the heels and Fabulous don't! It seems like resigning was the message all along, this week. And if I can draw hands like this, dealing with worms should be a piece of cake, right?! Hahaha ;)

sticking

So I’ve promised myself that I’m off looking for the truths of me. I want to find myself beyond what I believe I am. Not who I want to become when all the growing-up is done; not who I think I should be. Not who my mother would like me to be, and not necessarily anyone’s next best friend, either! I’m going to be spending time getting acquainted with myself – with the little girl inside, as well as the she-devil! I’ve embarked on a trip to learn to embrace myself, warts and all!

& it goes deep. It means I need to change my operating system – update my software to run on a new promise. I’ve always been working the idea that I was growing towards a better version of myself, but I just don’t believe that’s true anymore! I’ve always sort of held back from really looking for myself inside my life, because I thought I should wait till I’d be right-er, better, ready-er. But when will that be?

Never. That’s when. When the bottom-line is growth, you’ll never be fully grown. You can’t be, because when you are, the bottom falls out! At least that’s what I think by now. I’ve never quite put into words what I wanted to be at the end of all that becoming, because I’ve never felt equipped to know who I’d be when I’d finally find myself as something that I’m most certainly, quite seriously NOT, yet... Do you know where you’ll be when the growing is done? It’s a never-ending process of looking at lack, looking at not-quite, looking at room for improvement.

This whole new way of being – as opposed to becoming; learning – as opposed to perpetually ‘growing to measure up’; it’s a process, again. Of course! I’ve lived with the old words for so long, that there is no way I won’t slip up, fall back, get left behind, forget to bring my je ne sais quoi! And the beauty is – it doesn’t matter! It’s all me, it’s all you – it’s the being human in ‘human being’! I don’t have to berate myself, belittle myself because I think I might have missed an obvious signpost that’s supposed to point me towards my life. I’m not missing the point; there is no growth chart, no manual, no map to guide me on the Road to Me, because I’m already there! I’m the me inside this skin, beautiful, warts & all!

This is all new, and it feels good! It feels solid! It feels right to walk towards myself, showing up to meet me, instead of dreaming about who I might be when I’m finally finished! Yes it does! In moments, it does. In theory it does. When I’m chatting about it with myself, in my head? Awesome idea! But in reality, trying to live this? It doesn’t just feel awkward, it feels utterly alien! Who am I when I can’t curl up into a tiny ball, feeling like I’m always coming up short when things spin out of reach?

I’ve got a beautiful answer, here it is: “Well, I’m the little girl inside myself who can feel like she’s coming up short, and curl up into a tiny ball! But I’ll tell myself I’m not always coming up short. That feeling this doesn’t change who I am inside. That it’s okay to feel what I feel, as long as I don’t swallow it, become it, wear it like it’s mine. And that curling up into a tiny ball really feels comfortable, at times.”

But the truth is – in daily life, I’m back to baby-steps again, and it feels really, really weird to be kind to myself. I know that rock-solidly means I’ve been chewing myself to the bones of me for too long, but I have – for most of my life. And there is no quick fix.

In a way, the idea of perpetual growth, the not-quite-ness of it all? It’s a perfect excuse! Which is why it worked for so long – especially the past three years, when I rubbed it in more gently than I did before. That means I’ve been patronising myself, of course, but it feels – comfortable, looking back! Like a sweater worn soft by years of daily wear, never mind the gaping holes... When you’re not quite anything, quite yet, there is a lot of room to manoeuvre! Because you’re not all there yet, anyway, so it doesn’t matter all that much. But of course it did matter! & why wasn’t I ‘there’ yet?! There was a whole bloody castle worth of room to get really angry and endlessly frustrated at the whole process – so what, exactly, am I calling comfortable?! I mean, I’m not going to pretend that I’m here trying to embrace those dratted warts because I was bored ;) 

But this whole new thing? It’s just – really hard work. And I’ll admit that somewhere, deep down, I’d hoped that – because I already am that Me with Those Warts, it’d be sort of easy... That all I had to do was see and embrace and we’d be done with all this crap! Okay, it might need some tweaking, some fine-tuning – but essentially, it’d all fall into place, land softly, and I’d be on my merry way to where I was meant to go! No! Hold on! That should be where I already am, albeit unbeknownst ;)

Instead, of course, I find myself utterly lost and unable in so many ways – this woman I already am? Uncharted, alien territory, people! – and I can’t even tell myself “don’t worry, honey, you’ll grow into your skin, one fine day!” Can you see why that would help? Why that, to me & to how I’ve always done things, would be a sweet song (like a lullaby...) right about now?

Because the new answer is harsh! It could be something like “I know you’re lost, sweetie, but that’s a truthful part of you, right now. You need to lean in, see the bottom and embrace it.” And while that’s true, while I know that if I let myself be where I find myself, without fighting it tooth and nail – I’ll get back up much quicker, I might learn that it isn’t such a scary place to be, because the little girl inside does know how to swim – yes, while that really is the bottom of how I want to learn to see, I just don’t know how to talk to myself like that, be patient like that. I’m really trying, but to my untrained inner ear, it sounds more like “That’s the you inside the you, silly cow. Yup, that’s the pathetic extend of what you’re trying to be happy with! Lost? Again?! Sounds about right! Good luck with that!”

I want to hold myself accountable, this year. I want to chart this process & stick with it, because it really matters. It feels good to realise that I do know how to answer my own questions with love, even when at times I feel utterly unequipped to hear myself beyond the twisted, loveless version.

It’s more than a learning curve, it’s about mothering myself! It’s about learning how to listen to the wisdom inside. As told by the person who knows me best. To meet myself as a friend, instead of someone I need to grow away from. Because when put like that, isn’t that a crazy thing to strive for?! Leave yourself as far behind as you possibly can! That way... Uhm... Yes, well... Indeed!

“Stick with ME, sweet pea!” This mantra popped into my head the other day – just like that, walking back from taking the kid to school; out on my lonesome, minding the dog poo, not looking for wise, per se. But the words stuck with me, and they help me focus! I don’t know who Me is, exactly, and it might take a whole year to make a mere dent in all that, but wisdom is mundane at times, especially when it comes unbidden. Sometimes, all you can do is not wander off. Even if that – almost paradoxically – means meandering on a new path without a map. Sometimes, courage is nothing more than telling yourself to stick with you – because you’re worth it. & that’s not a small thing!

So stick with you! I’m sticking with me! I really believe, right now, that the courage to do that is the start of everything else!

permission

I have made so many conscious attempts to be here more that I've lost count... And I have finally made a dent in - figuring out why it hasn't been happening. It's about fear. The fear of showing myself out loud and finding no one who cares. To meet shrugs. That's what's stopping me. This old, well-worn idea that being me and everything I bring is nothing to write home about. It's subconsious, and it's been sneaking up on me, but there it is...

Over the months, it's been harder to get here. I've been up to - much, in my head. I've been growing, soul-searching, drawing, changing some patterns, and thinking about all the above. I've been doing a whole lot of grieving, too. The hard stuff I wrote the monster post about; the way my life changed - as lives do - and the need to grab a hold of the stuff I say matters. Figure out what really does matter, and how I want to live it! What I want to show of it, what I want to be honest about, and when to basically stop babbling. And what to do when I do shut up! I've been everywhere, travelling long roads inwards - but I haven't been out, much.

I miss it. Being out. Meeting up with friends to talk and draw, to walk and talk, to hang out in coffee shops... Meeting friends online, reading blogs, hanging out in that virtual coffee shop, too. I feel like I've lost my voice, a little. Because I've been afraid to talk out loud. I've been hanging around with the wrong crowd and my inner critic a little too much for the past half year. I won't say that some things haven't changed for the better, I've had a couple of meaningful heart-to-hearts - but mainly with myself - inner dialogues & long monologues where the other side of me merely nodded and grunted in all the right places. I've spent some time slaying dragons, and trying to put my mother-issues to bed. I've dusted some shelves and figurines - broke a few, too. Shelves and figurines. But at some stage, enough really is enough, and you need to get out. Get it out & all. Get your courage on and be. Out loud, that is!

I've spent a lot of time thinking about blogging more. Thinking about re-invention and direction and change. But my blog is called Muddle On Through for a reason. That's me, that's who I am, that's what I do. I could pretend otherwise, but only for a while, and it would feel like a lie. I would love to be known for my wisdom - for how I grab life and don't let go, but if that's what you're looking for here, you have to read between the lines at times; find the truth where it resides for you. I suppose it's more likely that I'll be known as honest and human. Warts and a tendency to over-think. Shrugged about, perhaps, but the question is whether that matters, deeply. Whether it changes who I am. Because that old shoe fits, and I'm learning to be okay, to bend with the truths of me. I'm not as flexible as I'd like to be, that's a truth, too. But I'm working hard on not breaking quite as much anymore. And you'll find my purr-mode in working order when you least expect it!

I'm not challenging anyone but myself to stick around, of course. My blog was always going to be about who I am and what I make - whether that's sense, a mess, or art - so I'm pushing through this idea that I need to change course in order to blog. I'll stick with what I know & who I am. No more imagined apologies for posts never written because I'm worrying who will care.

I'm renewing my vows to document what makes me tick. To be like that if that's the mood that shows. Whatever the mood that shows. To show my warts, my art and my je ne sais quois. This is where I learn to bend, and where I'm breakable. This is where I take up all the space I need. Where I clash with the décor. Where I'll try to be all that I already am.

So I'm welcome here. That's my 2013 gift to myself :) And you are more than welcome here, too! With warts of your own - whether you're ready or willing to share or not. You're so welcome. It really is lovely to have you!

& here's a question for you:

If we all really are our own solid ground in this mayhem called life, what does yours look like? This is mine! For now ;)

laundry

smile

First day of the first week of Isaak's School Kid Carreer. Courageous kid. He feels it, too, of course. This really is momentous for both of us...

So I came home to an empty house and time. I'd promised myself I'd fill it with something. Something meaningful - as far as I know what that is, right now. Move past the guilt that claiming this time as mine and pristine brings up. Trying not to waver in my resolution to make this time count - for something decidedly not chores of any kind. Nor entertaining distractions, no matter how they whisper that they're easy and instant and will cure all that ails while I let them. I need to start as I plan to go on.

Here's what came up;

autumn comes & shines with an in-your-face beauty that silently SINGS

I'm smiling reluctantly & in spite of myself
letting my bones warm
guilt isn't made to hang on to
especially not the kind we pour over ourselves
masked grief needs colour
light
air
healing does start here and now...

In the end, it all starts with permission. Giving yourself permission to smile, to enjoy, to embrace, to really see what we're given to play with. And to play then. Especially when that's the hardest thing to do. Sometimes the only way to take a first, scared, clueless, hesitant step onto the daunting road ahead is to allow yourself to play with what's here, now. So that's what I did.

healing continues, here and now.

Will you give yourself permission to play today? Do something, anything - just because you know deep down that it's good for you! Chocolates - to help swallow the guilt - are on me today :)

mamma

Hard to get started on this one. Because I want to capture months in a single blog post. For myself as much or more than for the sake of explaining. I think it's time I wrap up the whole mess and tie it with a bow. Not because it's all done and dusted, or because it's chiseled in stone - but because where I've come from, where I'm at, now, is a new beginning of sorts. Not completely fresh, not entirely clean, but a starting point for the rest of it, at least.

This past year has been all about - figuring out where I want to go. At least, that's what I thought. That's what my internal ad agency wanted me to buy into, and I did, with a vengeance. I thought I was ready, for the next stage, but I was clueless about where to start. There is a whole world behind that, filled with never learned to dream Big about my life, but let's just say that by the time Summer came round, I was - disappointed & stressed out. In a way, I'm embarrassed to admit that I was stressed out by something so... selfish and quite vague to boot, but there you go - I was wrapped up in chaotic attempts at capturing the Meaning of My Life, getting angry at myself for not being able to just do it. 

So I went to Africa. My inlaws live there, it was an extended family visit, not a dramatic journey to find my roots in the soil where life began - although at that stage, I would have paid a price for a meaningful retreat with a local Sangoma who'd figure it all out for me ;) 

But the holidays were amazing, all on their own. Because I knew I wasn't going to find my Illuminated Path out there, anyway, I relaxed and let everything come the way it would. And it was beautiful! I saw that the world kept turning without me trying to spin it! I know it might sound dramatic, but I really felt I was accepted and loved - and I wasn't actually doing anything to deserve it! I'm sure that's been true throughout my life - as it is for all of us - but this was the first time I actually saw it, and took it in... And it led to all kinds of  - insights about life, about me, about feeling instead of trying to control!

So we got home, eventually, and I was all eager and ready to start sorting my new from my old perspectives, and run with it from there, but then I got sick. Nothing all that serious, but annoying enough not to be able to get on with things and be all new! And sick turned into another kind of sick, which turned into another kind of not-quite-right, and when I finally found my feet again - after antibiotics, a root canal and two months' worth of taking-it-easy - chaos had put on a fresh set of clothes and was solidly back. I woke up from being sick after taking a long and winding detour - trying to find out where I want to go was a lot like trying to run before figuring out the bones of walking - to find my awesome three-year-old about to turn four... 

I'd been denying and avoiding that can of worms, ostrich-style. Because I wasn't ready to face it. And I still sort of against the odds hoped that the Universe would hold off. Hindsight, my detour might have been a run for a shortcut. To be ready. To be ready-er. To be Me with a Certain Life; a dream, a meaningful goal, an end to work towards. A life that would immediately see good use for all that extra time - because FOUR (in the Netherlands) isn't just a birthday - it's a coming of age. For children and their mothers... Four is - pretty much - the day my child goes off to school...

Last Tuesday, my baby turned four. Beautifully, magnificently - wise, gorgeous, amazing & awesome - four. & there is hard ahead, in that. In letting go; sending him - reluctantly, completely! - off into a world of his own where he'll weave his own magic fabric & face his own fears and triumphs. Where I take another, bigger, step back - always there to catch, kiss & make better, but forced into the sidelines a little more. Less able to 'look inside his head', less able to know what's going on, less able to fix what isn't smooth...

I know it goes with the territory of - raising a human being. Because that's what we do, us mothers, in the end. Having a baby isn't about a baby, although it feels that way for the longest time. It's about teaching another human being to be ready for the world. & the better we do that, the more stepping back we need to do. There is beauty in that, of course, but it's terrifying beauty when you're in the middle of it! Knowing that  he's happily running away from you because you made him feel safe and confident enough to do so doesn't console when you're looking at his cute tiny backside & all you can see, all that drowns you, is the fact that he's off. Skipping, no less!

He comes back of course, with stories of his own to tell. And you're still a mamma, his mamma! & you hope - more than actual knowing - it will get easier with time. Because all your friends and people who care tell you it will. And you believe them because you want to, and the tiny - hindsight! - steps before got easier as well. But for now, for right now, the hole in your heart is so big, a world could pass through without touching the edges...

All of this wraps itself around me, of course. Because my baby is ready for this step. And on the outside, I'm cheering him on! Of course I am! I remember from being a kid myself - new things are scary, but exciting, and growing bigger is all you want to do!

But I'm left with a hole to fill. And along the way, since coming back from Africa, I've realised that - this year isn't about finding out where I want to go with my life - it's about finding out who I am. Who I've become. It's about seeing all that I've shedded and all that I've taken on - in bigger and wee little steps - to become the fallible but actually okay human being I am. It's about defining myself, starting with where I am, instead of where I was.

Because I came into being a mamma with a whole lot of bagage. I came from mud. I came from - never enough, and never going to be anything but a failure - all that, drowned in Chardonnay. And I grew, with my kid. I am a world away from where I was before. As a mamma. Here I am, on this threshold that looks like a mountain, feeling like I'm nothing but a mamma. Like there isn't enough of me to fill all that kid-in-school space with things that matter. It's exactly why I started this year thinking it was all about finding direction, when it's really, in the mud of things, about finding me. I've been hiding inside the mamma. Right now, I feel like I only matter in light of being a mamma. Because before I became a mother, I was nothing. Nothing of much consequence, anyway.

& in the middle of all that thinking, feeling and crying - so who am I, with this hole in my heart? - I found myself pregnant.

We've been trying for a second child for about 2,5 years now, swinging between failing to conceive and miscarrying (before you ask: we haven't seen a doctor about it yet. No. Because I used to believe in natural, and in accidents, and in belief, and trust, and hope, and in it will happen if it's meant to be. I'm losing balance on that perch, but that's another story). Another can of worms when it comes to my identity as mother - because it's hard not to think 'if I'm so good at being a mamma, why can't I be a mamma twice?' followed by the crushing thought that - I might be a mamma before and beyond everything else, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm great at it! - eventhough I know, of course, that it doesn't work like that and it means nothing as much as it means everything.

My miscarriage started on Sunday, the day of Isaak's birthday party. And I kept it together, sort of, not yet ready to let go. On Tuesday, his actual birthday, there was no point denying it anymore. There wasn't going to be a baby. Not this baby, anyway. At 6 weeks, 1 day, I lost another dream. But I kept it together again, as much as I could. Because it was my amazing kid's birthday! Because Isaak turning 4, going to school, that was meant to be my emotional sinkhole!

And it was, and it is, of course. My emotional sinkhole is - being a mamma. Not being a mamma. How much of a mamma I am, how I measure up. How far does my mamma-ness stretch, and where am I, beyond that. Stretching myself around that pregnancy - gingerly - thinking that I wouldn't need to find myself beyond being a mamma quite yet, and the relief in that, too.

Life is as much about saying goodbye as it is about saying hello. I realise that. Life doesn't like holes, and as long as you don't go sit down in one, occupy it like you own it, it will fill itself with something else. Something meaningful, too - if you take care, are willing to see it for what it is. So yes, I'm open. I'm an open wound, but open, nonetheless. The gaping moment after goodbye is terrifying - when you let go of something - especially when it's something you don't really want to end; something you don't want to lose; someone you don't want to see leave - and you're not quite sure, never less sure of what it is you'll be saying hello to.

All I know right now, is that I'm saying goodbye to the baby I nurtured to be ready for school, not knowing who we'll grow up to be, either of us, but open to it, with heaps of love, knowing this 'in-between' will pass (and come again in various shapes and forms). And I'm saying goodbye to the baby I didn't get to hold. I'm saying goodbye to the me who thinks she's nothing but a mamma, and hope to discover who she is when that second skin comes off. And I'm holding this space - no matter how tiny it feels to be right now.

It's been cathartic, to write my story down. I'm weaving fabric here. The fabric of my human life. There is no point in construction - part of me wants to tie the loose ends and force the pattern to repeat - force the colours to match - but there is no such thing. Trying only keeps me spinning my wheels in sadness. I want there to be space! Space to see the sights, space to find roads and detours. Breathing space. Space to find the wisdom in hindsight - not that which masks as wisdom, ahead of its time and place. Been there, done that, and it's never yet led me to where I truly live.

It would be too easy - no matter how it beckons - to tie loose ends to make space. Because right now, I don't see much space ahead. But it doesn't work. You can't outrun goodbyes forever - say hello to whatever looks promising, no matter what - just to embrace something. There comes a point where you have to sit down and take your time with it.

It feels like I've been trying to outrun this while paradoxically sitting down with it at the same time - for months. In the shortcut I tried to take, in the months of inflamations, and in the too-real things that happened over the past weeks. Like I've been holding my breath for a whole year by now, only to find that it didn't help, and I'm not ready, and I don't know when I'll get up again. But I will. I'm already in the process of getting up, although not quite ready to move on.

I think I'm ready to take on all that time ahead - the hours when Isaak is in school - and fill it with not knowing. And to be okay with not knowing for a while. I mean really okay. An open sort of okay. Not limited by frustration or a need to know. I think, basically, I need to see who I am for who I am, and see what happens next. And draw some of it!

I hope you made it all the way to the end of this post, but if you didn't, that's okay. What matters to me, quite selfishly, is that I did. I'm here. I made it through to the end of it, and the end is merely a new beginning. If I let it be that. And I will. I'm willing and able and courageous enough.

I love this quote:
"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened to us." - Helen Keller

& it tells me exactly where to be right now. 

loot

These are the drawings I came home with after working outside - or at least in public ;) - last week :D

This was lunch on the 26th, on an art date with a friend :) We did lots of walking and talking, and we even managed to draw some :) Lovely day!!

Another art date on Saturday, with a friend in Gouda, to make up for the missed Sketchcrawl the week before :) We sat on a park bench in the garden of a museum, surrounded by beautiful old buildings - but I ended up challenging myself with angles again. I figure the only way to get better is to keep trying ;)

On the way back from Gouda, we ended up in a traffic jam because of road works. And I decided to take out my sketchbook :D I'm really starting to dig the idea of bringing it everywhere :D

And here's my lovely boy. His back, anyway ;) I am having such a hard time with realistic faces... I maimed him in the drawing I did before (which I tore out of my sketchbook, totally going against principles. It really was that bad!). But then I was struck with the brilliant idea that I could focus on his cute little backside ;) The pockets on this pair of jeans are stitched low - just so you know - that wasn't me missing the truth again ;)

That last drawing, on Queen's Day (celebrating the Dutch Queen's BD, fleamarkets everywhere and people wearing lots of orange)? I did it in the park, on the playground, sat on a bench, surrounded by throngs of people! I'm definitely getting braver, and I'm really starting to love just going with the flow! Sure, I hesitated, but I did it, anyway :D

When last did you do something anyway? I'd love to hear :)

again

Yup. Been at it again! Yesterday morning, I spent an hour at the end of the street, sketching this:

They were working on the road, so there was sand. Squirt entertained himself and didn't ask once if we could go home! I've got an awesome kid, you know?! :)

It's hard to shut up my inner critic when it comes to loving what I come home with when drawing outside (I love the clouds, though!). For now. I have discovered that my usual style of drawing needs a table and a chair. And a lot of time for detail. It's good to know these things. It means I need to work on a new style, more suited for quicker sketches in uncomfortable positions. Which means I need to practice and do this as often as I can. I should, and I will :) All I'm asking for is slightly warmer temps... But to be on the safe side, I bought all three of us (very cheap & flammable) blankets to keep us warm on outings until Spring really comes to play. See, I'm totally taking this seriously :)

Jodi (of Art by Wiley, a lovely daily blog you should really check out!) mentioned this drawing challenge the other day.  Here's Jen's list:

1. Draw what’s on your desk in front of you.
2. Draw your pet (or someone else’s if you don’t have one).
3. Draw the contents of your refrigerator.
4. Draw the dream you had last night (or the last one you can remember).
5. Draw a picture inspired by your favourite song (or just pick a line from a song).
6. Draw your letterbox (if you’re letterbox is particularly uninteresting, or if you don’t have one, look here for inspiration).
7. Draw your morning cup of coffee.
8. Draw your favourite outfit (get some inspiration here)
9. Draw an iconic building in the town where you live (or the town where you were born, perhaps?).
10. Draw your favourite drawing tools and pay homage them. Because let’s face, they are awesome and we’d be lost without them.

And wouldn't you know, the building above - thought maybe not exactly iconic - fits the list! It's number 9, because I've decided it is ;) That means I'm in, I think :) Seeing that I've spent more time online than with my sketchbook lately, I figure I could do with a bit of a challenge. Get me off the couch! I won't be doing all of these outside. That's another challenge. And I'm on that - as you can see! But anything that helps me put the pigments to the page is good for me right now! I'm not sure I'll finish these in a week, like Jen suggests, or even that I get to all of them. But that's okay with me. Like I said - anything that helps... helps, you know? :)

Want to join, too? Or are you facing another challenge right now? I'd love to hear what you're up to!