Reminding myself of the light within.

The traveler driving down a lonely country road at night, is encouraged by the distant twinkling lights of her destination.

But it’s the headlights of her car that keep her from driving off the road.

In life we are drawn toward the bright light of desire and distant dreams.

But only the light we carry with us, will keep our wheels on the road and our footsteps on the path.

We have to keep that light burning.

Mountain-road

This is a re-post from last year but I needed to remind myself of this today.

Some lists.

I reblogged this post from a few years ago

I think I have come a long way from this but some of them still apply.

 

Reasons I get stuck.

1. It is hard to keep going when the destination seems so
distant and unknown.

Imagining Frida
Imagining Frida

2. It is hard to keep believing in yourself–
when there is no real evidence that what you believe
is more than your ego gone wild.

3. It is hard to go on without recognition
or validation or reward–
because you could be delusional.
Completely mad.
It’s a distinct possibility.

4.It is hard to find a reason to keep going because of
all of the above.

5. And then there is the question of your own sanity.

So Here’s another list.

Reasons to question my own sanity.

1. I am writing the third draft a play–that may never be produced.

2. I probably could put time and effort into more lucrative pursuits yet
I persist.

3.The life of an artist is often painful, disappointing
frustrating and depressing.

I hate to say it, but this leads to another list .

Painful things about being an artist.

1.The weeping, nail-biting–
and hopeless staring at an empty
screen.

2.Thefeeling that I am absolutely on the right
track suddenly changing to the realization that I’m not.

3.Awareness that my ability
to say something-
that hasn’t been said-
by countless others–
seems–
a) lacking?
b)missing in action?
c)otherwise engaged.

3.The constant nagging voice inside me
saying unkind things about the value or validity
of my own work

4. Experiencing shame, jealousy and resentment for the success of others

5, Trying to not have jealousy and resentment for the success of others.

6. Feeling threatened by the success of others. Oh God! Help me!!!!

7. Though some artists, writers and actors are wildly successful
famous and rich– the majority of us deal with–

Oh dear– I guess it’s another list–

The 99 percent

1. lack of recognition,

2. crushing poverty

3. the thought of dying in obscurity

4. The realization that absolute failure is entirely possible

5. The ever looming reality of poverty–
and dying in obscurity increasing with age. Yikes!

BUT–

I realize that despite the above lists–

None of these are good enough reasons to give up my dream.

Not writing–because of fear of failure
ensures my success at one thing– failing.

Failure is possible enough without my helping it along.

And–If I do not write–

My fearful, negative, self will have defined me and
controlled me and won this battle.

AND SO

I keep

1. writing.

2. painting,

3. improving,

4. growing,

5. discovering–

and even though I am often–

1.stumbling

2. falling,
3.crashing,
4. burning.

I keep going.

Because

1.There is no turning back for me.

2.The road only goes one way.

3.There is no place that I can go back to.

4.The road behind me is closed.

Well folks–

if this has not been annoying enough–

Here is another list–this one is for you .

1.What are you working on?

2. If you are not really working on something–

What are you avoiding?

3.What are you risking by not risking?

What are you denying yourself

by not devoting yourself to the discipline?

4. What terrors are you subjecting yourself to

by not confronting the fear?

And last but not least–

5. Why are you reading my silly lists.

1.Go get to work.

2.Call the Muse.

3.Wait for her.

4.Don’t make other plans

She is most likely to show up when you are actually at your desk or your easel
on tapping away on a keyboard in bed or in a coffee shop or wherever you write.

Last days of summer

“It’s never too late to have a happy childhood”
Tom Robbins

Some people say that Labour Day marks the end of summer,

but not for me. I hold on to the beauty of this season

until the autumn equinox.

Maybe even longer.

I have resumed my morning ritual of painting in bed.

I pull all my supplies and my journal into the bed

and just begin.

It helps me remember that the raw dread I sometimes

wake up with is just a feeling.

Caring for my mother is difficult.

As silly as it sounds I am still afraid of

her. Afraid of displeasing her

Afraid of awakening her rage.

My fear is old and carved into my brain

like a mountain road is carved into the granite.

How many explosions does it take to cut through

a mountain– or a kid?

And she’s just a little old lady

frail with Dementia–and sweet

most of the time.

But still she can fill me with terror.

I have learned–well I am learning–

to have compassion for her and for myself.

I have hired a care giver again.

Four hours a week.

We will see how it goes this time.

She has already started to complain.

I think the thing is to not give in.

I think the thing is to hold my ground.

I have never been able to do that with her.

Now I have to grow up and be an adult,

and I think the best way, is to connect

with the child in me–

and have my happy childhood now.

So painting in my art journal is part of that.

I write down my sadness and then I paint over it

and it is surprising how my spirits

lift and my view of things shifts.

It is amazing how spending a little

time diverting your imagination from

endless ruminating on impending disaster

can transform my whole inner world.

If you paint it’s hard to think resentful thoughts.

If you splash colour around it’s hard to have all that

mess in your mind.

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE ACCEPTED

I am re-posting this entry from a few years ago when I was afraid but ready to go forward inspite of my fear.  I was about to travel to the Gabriola Theatre Festival to perform my solo show and I was struggling with debilitating stage fright and anxiety.

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur
when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled.
For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort,
that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for
different ways or truer answers.”

M.SCOTT PECK

I need to step out of my rut.
I need to search for different ways
and truer answers. 

I need to be fearless,

My old arch enemy- Stage Fright has reared its ugly head and is taunting me and leaping out at me when I least expect it. My  mission is to transform my Fear into Courage and vanquish my enemy for another day. I accept the Mission. My method Love. My super power. Gratitude.These are the magical alchemical tools that will turn the base metal of negative emotion into golden light and give me the super-power I need. I will fly, soar, and float through the sky powered by the golden light of love even though I am terrified.

Please forgive the comic book language. It helps remind myself how much I really want and need to do my play.

I remind myself how grateful I am to have the opportunity.I created my script with love and really hard work and commitment and passion. I remind myself of the diligent writing process-and my willingness to keep going when it seemed as ifI couldn’t bring all the elements together and I wanted to quit. I am grateful to the audience who have bought all the tickets. I am grateful to the festival that invited me to perform. I am grateful for the opportunities I have to make art and share it.I am grateful to special friends that generously supported me. I am grateful for the healing power of art.I am grateful for everything good and bad. I am even grateful to my Stage Fright, which I realize has been just trying to protect me. If stage fright shows up in my dressing room on Saturday night I hope she will be carrying a bouquet of flowers.

A message to my fellow writers.

 

lunapicmorningstar

Writers are like stargazers,

searching an imaginary sky

for distant galaxies

of meaning and metaphor–

trusting in the existence of a story-

an act of faith–

knowing that the story is  there.

Somewhere beyond the flash of the idea.

Scientists and astronomers have a name for

the invisible material surrounding a galaxy.

They call it dark matter.

As I explore the galaxy of  my imagination

I hope that somewhere,

beyond the dying stars of my early scribbles,

somewhere in the endless night

of all that is unknown to me

I will find the story that wants to be told.

I do know that the flickering brightness of my ideas,

just like the stars in the night sky, seem much closer than

they  really are and  may take longer than I think to

reach them.

I have come a certain distance with my  writing explorations.

Sometimes I feel as if I have been traveling for a long time,

too long–and I will never arrive at my destination.

 

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