listening more deeply

I've spent weeks trying to figure out how to start this post.  So forgive me if this feels a little loose and kooky.  And it won't adequately convey my thinking right now, but I wanted to get something down.

Let the sewing begin

I spent a night this weekend laying out the entire quilt.  I've already sewn together the blues and purples, and I am loving how this looks.  I'm not the best sewer - I can't even seem to sew straight - but I don't care. 

Squares

I finally finished cutting out the squares, all 320 of them.  Seriously, fabric is so darn pretty and smells so good (mmm, spray starch).  Next step, pining them together and pulling out the sewing machine.  

140 down, a lot more to go...

Started cutting out the squares for a new quilt and then started getting tons of ideas for other ones...

Creative Bootcamp: Day Twelve - Smile

I struggled with the word "smile."  So I let the word smile become "hope" because those words are synonymous to me. 

During graduate school, our teachers often referred to our primary job as clinicians to be holders of hope.  Often our clients are stuck, life changes numerous and insurmountable, symptoms all consuming and painful.  And the truth is that life can suck, and suck big.  That's the reality that we sit with, hour after hour.  Add to that the pressures of short-term therapy pushed on us by insurance companies, well-meaning but ignorant family members, parents looking for quick fixes, and a lifetime of terrible things, holding onto hope is an impossible task.  I want to walk away often.

And then a client says something like "I am doing so much better!" or a child who used to hide under his hoodie is playing ball with you and talking about how angry he is.  I can't begin to tell you what a moment it is to think "holy crap, holy crap, we're talking about feelings, feelings!"  These are profound, fleeting moments.  Sometimes I can see those moments coming; I want to shout "I knew it!" and to tell everyone to be patient and trust the process.  But then I forget to trust the process, and I get impatient, and I forget those moments will come.  I judge myself according to other's eyes, not my own trained ones.

Bolts and Fabric

I have a strange issue with bolts.  Meaning, I seem to like to drive right over them and end up puncturing tires in the process.  I have fantastic aim.

The first time, I was driving back from a home visit in Dorchester.  I heard the clunk and kept driving like a loon because there was no way I was going to break down in Dorchester.  The second one I hit at eighty mph returning from NY to MA.  Oops.  We pulled over to the side of the highway (holy jeez, the scariest thing ever), switched drivers and headed to the next rest stop.  My husband put on our skinny little donut in the evil New-England-goes-desert heat and we drove 50 mph on the highway until we could finally pull off an exit.  Many thanks to all the people who had to swerve around us.  I documented it all for posterity ("this is so going on my blog!") and my husband gets the new tires we were arguing about earlier today.

Creative Bootcamp: Day Twelve - Smooth

This weekend I celebrated my thirty-third birthday by going to Cape Cod for two days.  I think birthdays are incredibly important, and should be celebrated with cupcakes, sunshine and lots of introspection.

I'll admit, I still like to read my horoscope and the big buzz is that there was some sort of major lunar eclipse on Saturday.  The eclipse was supposed to bring the opportunity for big massive change.  Advice was to spend the day living like you want to live.   And apparently things are looking big for my career.  Ha. 

Creative Bootcamp: Day Eleven - Hush

The word hush does not feel quiet to me.  Instead it feels like a silent scream, stifled after being told to be quiet over and over again, always needing to hold something in because if it were set free it would be destructive and only cause trouble.  It is an incredibly powerful nuisance, always growing inside and aching. 

But then there is something calm about hush, a humming presence, holding a strong silent vigil.  It takes work to hold that voice at bay, to always keep it under control, to protect others.  And maybe there is a bit of fear:  if the voice were to be set free, perhaps no one would listen.  Perhaps it holds no real power and is tiny and insignificant.

Creative Bootcamp: A hiatus

Hopefully you remember the Buzzkills, my own personal band of merry creativity destroyers.  Turns out I had put them off too long, and they were all clamoring for my attention.  All at once, we had to redo our budget, figure out some major finances, have some serious conversations about our house search.  Our car needed work, and then more work (to fix what got messed up), we had a mini-relationship crisis, and our cleanliness situation had crossed into critical.  I had to put the bootcamp on hold, get out of my own way and pay attention to what was going on around me.  All is well again, and we are moving forward, plan renegotiated and energies reinvested.  And I can't wait to fire our real estate agent.  

I've been thinking about the next prompt:  hush, but can't seem to visualize what I would like to create.  It brings up strong feelings in me, and I don't know quite how to portray them.   My commitment for this week is to finish up the bootcamp by Thursday, and maybe do a Week in the Life.  My birthday is Friday, so we're getting cupcakes, going to the beach and being chill.  I just want to rent bikes, go swimming, and have picnics.  We need it.

Creative Bootcamp: Day Ten - Full-Bodied

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I did terribly at the journal prompt today.  I was only dimly aware that it was stunningly beautiful outside, felt an ache to run away to the ocean, and then returned to my pile of paperwork.

I've started doing a mindfulness journaling exercise with my clients to become more aware of the senses.  I pulled it from the Crafter's Devotional.  On a routine basis, jot down the following:
I see...watercolors, a cup of water with a paintbrush still in it, my camera and this laptop, my feet on the table and the TV on
I hear...my new CD, A Fine Frenzy, a soft female voice "I built myself a castle on the beach, Watching as it slid into the sea, The world carries on without you, But nothing remains the same"
I taste...lime seltzer
I smell...that smell that is only one's own home
I feel...my sweatshirt, big and too warm but I needed something snuggly
I intuit...that something is changing
I wonder...if we will stop fighting