Showing posts with label Inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inspiration. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

a poetic visit


Maya Angelou is coming to Portland on June 2, 2010
and I'll be sitting in the audience,
fascinated.

Do you have a favorite book of hers?

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

“I’ve learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life.”

“I can be changed by what happens to me.
But I refuse to be reduced by it.”

"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back."

"My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return."

"The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes
straight to the heart."

"The need for change bulldozed a road down the center of my mind."

"While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God's creation."

Monday, March 1, 2010

If only every girl could hear this...

credit
This morning with a couple free moments to spare before the day began its snowball effect of children, meals, and cleaning, and as much writing as I can possibly squeeze in, I looked to my Glamour magazine for some eye candy to help wake my tired eyes. Free moments for such guilty pleasures are rare, and to prove this, I'll just tell you that I am on day three of even getting through the magazine!

During my escape, I came across the short editorial titled "The Most Important 433 Words to Read This Month." Enraptured with the title I continued to delve. Just three words in and she had me.

"Dear Emotional Creature,

I believe in you. I believe in your authenticity, your uniqueness, your intensity, your wilderness. I love the way you dye your hair purple, or hike up your short skirt, or blare your music while you lip-sync every memorized lyric. I love your restlessness and your hunger. You possess the energy that, if unleashed, could transform, inspire, and heal the world.

Everyone seems to have a certain way they want you to be — your mother, father, teachers, religious leaders, politicians, boyfriends, fashion gurus, celebrities, girlfriends. In reporting my new book, I learned a very disturbing statistic: 74% of young women say they are under pressure to please everyone.

I have done a lot of thinking about what it means to please: to be the wish or will of somebody other than yourself. To please the fashion setters, we starve ourselves. To please men, we push ourselves when we aren’t ready. To please our parents, we become insane over-achievers. If you are trying to please, how do you take responsibility for your own needs? How do you even know what your own needs are? The act of pleasing makes everything murky. We lose track of ourselves. We stop uttering declaratory sentences. We stop directing our lives. We forget what we know. We make everything OK rather than real.

I have had the good fortune to travel around the world. Everywhere I meet teenage girls and women giggling, laughing as they walk country roads or hang out on city streets. Electric girls. I see how their lives get hijacked, how their opinions and desires get denied and undone. So many of the women I have met are still struggling late into their lives to know their desires, to find their way.

Instead of trying to please, this is a challenge to provoke, to dare, to satisfy your own imagination and appetite. To take responsibility for who you are, to engage. Listen to the voice inside you that might want something different. It’s a call to your original self, to move at your own speed, to walk with your step, to wear your color.

It has taken me so many years to be OK with being different, with being this alive, this intense. I just don’t want you to have to wait that long.

Love,
Eve Ensler. "


If only Eve Ensler's encouragement, praise, understanding and advice could be heard by every girl, I believe there could be a re-awakening--for every girl and woman who is struggling in some way, small or big to live life deeply and richly AUTHENTIC.

For the last year, I've been attempting to peel back the layers of my own authenticity in the fullness that I know it exists, and try and examine where there are gaps and blank spaces. It is a daunting task to try and recover where along my path I may have been disrupted or deterred in living a FULL and authentic life. Because the truth is, I am still working to claim this sort of life for my self.

My teenage years were quite rough. School bullying and immense pressure to adhere to religious views that didn't necessarily line up with my spiritual beliefs are just two reasons that had me overcome. The pressure to-be or to not-be and to please others was consuming and devastating for me as a teenager. I felt like I had to grow up fast as I was challenged to ask myself BIG questions of WHO AM I? and WHO AM I NOT? (even when they say I am), while other kids appeared to be relishing in the moments of school sports and boy crushes. It caused many a storms and numerous gray clouds continued to hang their dreary loom over my life for many years.

Over those years, I attempted to confront the struggle that was happening inside me, and understand where I let myself down and how my vulnerability made me susceptible to an enormous lack of confidence, depression and unhealthy relationships. Grappling with the situation felt like a battle that I may never win nor understand. I remember thinking...I'll get to it all one day. I know it all has to be sorted out, but, right now, I am too tired. I'll do it when I have the energy. Eventually, it was through a series of people, life-altering events and a new-found faith that I began to heal and was able to begin to create my authentic life.

I was both surprised and not at Ensler's statistic that "74 percent of young women say they are under pressure to please everyone."

One day when I was living in Utah during my first two years of college, I went to the scrapbook store. I was big into scrap booking at the time and spent much of my free time creating memory books for the years gone by. While I waited in line to make my purchases, my eyes could hardly ignore the fact that behind the cash register on a tall shelf were twelve or so glass canisters of different flavored home-made suckers--and beautiful I might add. I deliberated for a few moments, scanning over their flavor names, but as with many other instances in life, I struggled to make a decision. So instead of asking the kind employee to add a sucker to my bag of goodies, I decided I didn't care anyway and headed for home.
When I returned back to my apartment and found my roommate, Heather, whom I've known since second grade, I began to explain the sucker saga. It wasn't because I was suckerless that I was upset. It was the sheer fact that I felt so frazzled and indecisive when trying to choose a flavor that I could hardly believe that it stressed me out the way it did. Actually, it stressed me out so much, that I opted to ditch the whole idea and deprive myself of the sweet indulgence!
Silly sucker story, I know, but it was then that I realized that something was seriously wrong with my ability to make decisions for myself, and do so decisively...and when appropriate--quickly.
The reason that I share this sucker story is that I've been in that place when I wanted to please the masses. I wanted to be this, that and more, and the results were devastating to my contentment. I was frazzled, frustrated, living life less-than authentic. I was gaping in places that needed fulfillment. I tuned out of my own life and was living elsewhere, listening to others, contributing to their life, while failing my own. I did so until it all became too painful and I began unraveling even further than I thought possible, and began to see that the living and breathing I'm doing is for my SELF. I realized, as much as it seemed that others' happiness meant my happiness, I was wrong. I had been living a false belief that needed a quick overhaul.
My roommate, Heather found my sucker story silly, too, but she caught wind of the fact that I was teetering on the edge of some big changes. A couple of days later, with all of the love and kindness in her heart, Heather came to me with not one, but THREE suckers! "Now you don't have to choose just one!" she said. She was right! Who said I could only have one?
I'll never forget Heather's thoughtfulness and kindness that day, or the support she gave me when I packed my bags and moved back to Washington the following summer without her. She's been just one of the many who have watched me struggle and fall and climb back up time and time again. She's a gem of a friend and I will attest that she is an AUTHENTIC soul, who encourages others to be the same.

Becoming more each and every day,
~C

FYI: I wrote most of this post over two weeks ago--sorry for the delay.

Monday, August 3, 2009

A Muse of Mine

Jewel Pictures, Images and Photos


Now, this one can sing...

amazingly flawless.

Piercing. Perfect. Pitch.

Her range is like that of ten or so instruments

perfectly orchestrated to create

the most beautiful melodies.

vulnerable, bare, acoustic
accompanying heavenly sounds.

Really, what more can I say...

I'd wanted to see Jewel for almost ten years, until I finally got to see her at the Zoo in Portland, last Friday night. Nate and I enjoyed front row seats and one amazing evening. We brought our camera, but no camera card; however, I refused to let this tarnish my night...

Monday, April 27, 2009

Day 7--A Much Anticipated Message

I have so much gratitude for those who put into words the things that I feel but can't describe, and for those who share their gifts which are to be shared, as they are gifts from God.

Elizabeth Gilbert is amazing. Every woman should read Eat, Pray, Love. I was moved during my entire reading of that book, and was so excited to find her in a conference sharing bits from her life as a writer and a creative spirit. The things she says shook me, and I feel more than ever that my mind associates with the very sort of people that she talks about. It's nice to hear someone say that the complex and often unneccesary mental exaustion that I put myself through as I wade through life in my mind, is the very essence of me. The trick is to find how to invite this part of myself in and embrace the journey.

Sometimes I feel...

~Overwhelmed
~Worry
~I over-analyze
~So much to say
~That I may be odd
~Self-pressure to do it perfect
~Not enough time to delve fully
Here's to all you creative spirits out there:


Thursday, April 16, 2009

Afternoon Inspirations

Photos taken from Desire to Inspire.







Coffee Garland photo taken from Pamela Garrison.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Hooray!

Saturday I remembered where I come from. It's a terrible realization to encounter--the moment when it dawns on you that you've been away from yourself for a time and all that drives you creatively and inspirationally has been thirsting for a visit. How it happens, I am not sure, but it sneaks up on me everytime. But when it's realized that I haven't been feeding my soul I get so excited that I want to shout from the rooftops! Hooray! I know the answer! I must get back to studying the creative life, and there is no other way around it! The creative life is a good life.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Blooming in the Basement 9/19/2008


I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free ~Michelangelo

I am not sure where to begin, but one thing is for sure though, that it’s there inside me struggling to get free. I continuously deny my creative energy any place to dwell, mode to think, or chance to be. Down. Down. Back down. . . Some other day when I have more time and space; when I create that room of my own--the one that I’ve hardly began to dream up because dreaming it up will take about just as much energy as it will to make use of. It’s as though if I can dabble in a mess of creativity regularly, I’ll bloom again.

It happened one time in particular, my senior year of college, in Pullman, down in that basement room of mine, listening to Stephanie Dosen, while collaging bits and ramblings of what had recently broke me, my grand inspirations, or the things I thought I knew for sure. Although somewhat foggy, I can still recall how I felt that year and in what aspect it healed me. To get there, however, I fought a tiring battle, but in the end, learned to surrender my self, to me. During that time, I braved the rawness of every ache and moment of emptiness and loneliness, and let it wash over me. And I did so alone, free, and surprisingly, unafraid. Instead, I relished in the solitude.

May Sarton writes in Journal of Solitude:


With the return of cheerfulness I feel a sense of loss. The poems no longer flow out. I am more “normal” again, no longer that fountain of tears and intense feeling that I have been for months. Balance is achieved, or nearly. But at what price?

That year I spent down in that basement was both my sense of loss and cheerfulness. I stripped myself naked of every excuse I’d been making for my attitude, actions, and my relationships. I surrendered myself to my own madness, and luckily, I was still enough to feel what was happening inside me. I found I was much more fragile and vulnerable then I wanted to realize, but when I did, I bent carefully to grovel near the roots of my being.

I have a picture of that house somewhere. Maybe a picture of that basement, too. I should place it in a frame to remind me that even in a tiny, quiet basement bedroom one can bloom. All it really takes is the surrendering to one’s self, the stillness of solitude, and a pen and some paper.

We're ALL Right 11/13/2007

Last night, Nate and I went to the Ben Harper show in Portland. Near the end of the show, he stood up and said,

“Isn’t it amazing that all of us are in one room, and all of us believe in this many things? And the beauty of it is--we’re all right!”

I love this thought. Though, it’s a belief that just thinking about takes work. The idea that we’re all right is much simpler to say and seems to encompass so much freedom, though, it goes against everything I have ever been taught in life. Religion teaches differently. . . society teaches differently. What would the world truly look like if we were all right and each of us lived this?



Check out Fight Outta You:



“You must write every single day of your life... You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads... may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.” ― Ray Bradbury
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