How Many Books do You Bring to a Retreat?

Contents of my book bag that I brought to the retreat today:

1. Bible
2. Notebook (in case I wanted to make notes)
3. Journal (in case I wanted to write something profound!)
4. Creative Call book - (because we might get some free time, and maybe I could finish Chapter 7 - which incidentally is not called "How to Multi-Task while on Retreat"!)
5. Pen

Total # of items: 5
Total # of items actually used: 2
Lesson learned: Part of the retreat is learning to simplify, let go and just be!
Favorite moment: The ten minutes or so of quiet when I was alone in the sanctuary, journaling, breathing, and listening to the wind rattle the old windows. * o

How Many Books do You Bring to a Retreat?

Browsing the Book Store

Yesterday we went to the city so the boys could spend some of the money that burns holes in their wallets. Charlie and I got to spend some time browsing around Chapters, just the two of us. It's not hard for me to find a book or two to pick up, but Charlie was having a heck of time trying to find something. He's been trying to get more of The Watcher's series of books but they are really hard to come by, so he had to find something else. When we completed our purchases, we headed to Starbucks for a treat - chai tea for me, and a cappuccino for Charlie. It was an "artist date" moment in what would otherwise be a ho-hum day of shopping and crowds. * o

Browsing the Book Store

Ode to Joy

There are pieces of music that are intricately woven into the tapestry of our lives.

Twenty some years ago when I was getting married, I had to pick a song to walk down the aisle too. I didn't want the traditional "Wedding March", mostly I think because as kids we constantly chanted "here comes the bride, short, fat and wide" and I couldn't get that imagery out of my mind when hearing that piece of music.

So, I chose "Ode to Joy" to come down the aisle too. I loved singing it as a hymn in church, loved the words and felt it was the proper piece.

Flash forward twenty some years to yesterday morning. My youngest is playing "Ode to Joy" on the organ in church, his first performance in front of an audience larger than his family. I know he's nervous, and catch my breath as he plays. His face is set, determined. He plays flawless. My heart bursts with pride. I am sure my mother was also pleased, as she watched her piano student/grandson perform.

"Joyful, Joyful, We adore Thee". There are pieces of music that are intricately woven into the tapestry of our lives, like a prayer. * o

Ode to Joy

Weekend Creative Project

I found this neat stuff called, "Paper Perfect" in the store this weekend. It goes on like paint, dries like paper. Thought it would make a neat sort of collage cover for my journal which is just an ordinary notebook. I put this stuff on, and cut out some pictures and words. Then put a clear gloss finish over it all. It's taking over 24 hours to dry though. Note to self - next time decorate the journal cover BEFORE you start writing in the journal. * o

Weekend Creative Project

Eggs-cellent

I luvs Easter Eggs! Some of these are my own creation, and some are pysanky and others I have collected. I love Faberge Eggs too - but those are a little out of my budget.

Update on Spring Fever: I went out shopping today and bought some craft supplies - have a little project in mind. The sunshine was soon replaced by dark clouds. We've had thunder, lightening, hail, rain, snow and wind. The whole gamut. The dog is pacing restlessly. It's a good night to have a hot bath and hunker down with a good book. Maybe I'll finish The Eyre Affair. But first, another egg picture:

* o

Eggs-cellent

Spring Fever

The sun was shining earlier this morning, birds singing and the temps are very mild. Plastic Santa is definitely coming off the front deck today.

The only thing I've learned about creativity this week, is that I'm extremely restless and itching to create something, anything. This restless cycle can probably be attributed to the changing seasons. Spring fever. An underlying current longing to burst forth with something new.

The boys are rearranging their rooms, again. Not normally a big deal except that the oldest's ideas usually involve some sort of re-wiring or re-modeling that can't be done and leads to frustration. The joys of a very old house.

Spring fever has set in. March Break is here. God help us all. * o

Spring Fever

Frozen

I'm supposed to be working on some poems right now but I keep thinking about Lorna Crozier. This is who will be judging the poetry entries in the NOWW contest. Not being very up on who is who in the Canadian literary scene (but working on it), I "Googled" her name to see who she was. And now, I'm stone cold frozen. Just the minutest chance of having Crozier read one of my poems if I make that far would be like having Stephen King read your horror novel, or Stephen Spielberg read your screenplay. None of my poems are remotely near this kind of quality. Revising, re-reading, sifting through, thinking "naw, that's not it", or "god, that sounds mundane". Surfing the net and avoiding the work. Why am I putting myself through this?

I tell myself to keep revising, keep plugging away, and try to mould something I can enter knowing I pulled out the best I could offer. This is what entering the contest is about, right? Winning is nice (who am I kidding!) - but what I really need now is a kick in the pants goal, and to keep pushing myself. Otherwise, I remain frozen and staring at a blank page. And if there is even the slightest possibility that Lorna Crozier reads one of my poems - I'll be doing flipping cartwheels! * o

Frozen

Pieces of Lent

Fragments of my journey through Lent this week.

- lines from a poem I started on Ash Wed. and have yet to figure out what I'm going to do with: "the moon was a fingernail of light, ashes on my brow, sackcloth on my soul."

- still stuck on Week 7 of Creative Call, and am probably going to stay there this week too. This week was busy, and I didn't spend much time reading. Week 7 is about "Time Management" - ain't that a laugh....

- listening to Chaya's song "I Want You More Than Anything" and turning that into my Lenten litany.

- the fresh-washed smell of crisp, white altar linens wafting through the house this afternoon.

- Psalm 51 - "create in me a clean heart O Lord"

- fervent prayers for a dear sister in Christ who was rushed to hospital far away from here

-sitting in the stillness of the old church this morning and soaking up the peace.

- sitting in the hustle of the new church this morning, smelling fresh paint and sawdust and marveling at the "lightness" of the place.

- "remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return". I keep remembering how in grade school we used to sign autograph books with "ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if it weren't for girls, boys lips would rust."

- reflecting on service, and women who serve with whole hearts, like the woman with alabaster jar.

- journaling my way through a forty day prayer journal as my Lent practice. I didn't want to give anything up this time, partly because I couldn't figure out what to give up, and I wanted to do something meaningful, not just "because that's what we do at Lent." So I thought the prayer journal would be a good practice. * o

Pieces of Lent

Grosbeak

-27C this morning. Bitter cold but sunny. While rushing around getting ready to leave for work, I spotted this magnificent fellow at the bird feeder munching on sunflower seeds. I had to stop for a moment and admire him, so puffed up, his striking red feathers showcased against the clear, cold sky. Could I manage to sneak a picture, move the lace curtains without startling him? This is my attempt at catching that moment. A moment of "breathing in" - caught between morning silence and mindless busyness. * o

Grosbeak

Some good news on the writing front

I received word this weekend that my poem, Spring Frost, will be published in the True Words section of the Story Circle Journal March issue.

The journal is published by the Story Circle Network, a website for "women with stories to tell". Lots of helpful resources available there for women writers. * o

Some good news on the writing front

Hangin' Out - Sunday Morning

Charlie and Salem. Don't be fooled by kitty's rather relaxed appearance - it's an ideal spot to rule the couch and keep the slobbering dog on his toes. * o

Hangin' Out - Sunday Morning

Creative Call - Week 6 - Breathing Out

Creative is a journey, and I believe a partnership with our creator.

This week's chapter focused on becoming servants to the work. Learning to recognize our artist work as being both worth our time and our efforts. Learning to "show up to the work" and roll up our sleeves and do it.

And learning that as we start attending to the work, a thousand interruptions will show up to block our way. The kids need something, there is a meeting to go to, housework to be done, the list seems endless.

Earlier this week, I wrote that maybe the secret to happiness was discovering God's hand in the myriad interruptions of our lives. Now I think that the real secret is knowing which interruptions are God's and which ones are trying to keep us from our nurturing, creative relationship with God.

I'm frustrated this week because it seems that the more I try to "give up" so that I have time to create, the more seems to come my way in requests for my time and talents. I don't really want more to do, but in saying no, would I be missing a direction God wants to use me in? How do people sift through this stuff?

So as I muddle through this, Janice Elsheimer on page 101 of Creative Call reminds me: "God is in control, and every time you hear the critic telling you that you are wasting your time or being self-centered, you need to turn that message over to the Lord in prayer and rebuke the critic in the name of Jesus. You are fighting for your creative life here, and God is on your side."

A bit dramatic perhaps, but I know how angry and resentful I get when I don't nurture that creative side and God certainly doesn't need an angry and resentful servant. * o

Creative Call - Week 6 - Breathing Out

Life Interruped

Came across this quote today:

My whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered the interruptions were my work. - Henri Nouwen

Could this be the secret to being satisfied with where you are at the moment? Recognizing God's hand in the myriad interruptions that make up our lives. Going with the flow. Paying attention and creating - in the moment. Simple serendipity. * o

Life Interruped

Creative Call - Week 5 - Just Breathe

"What you focus on expands" - pg 85, Creative Call

I found it ironic that this week's chapter focused on taking time to nurture your creative spirit. It's been a hell of a hectic week -busy, stressful and not a lot of time for "nurture". The more I read about it, the less of it I did!

A couple of discoveries while working through the exercises this week:

- I don't spend enough time with things that inspire me.
- What inspires me - nature, poetry, good music, good worship, artwork - is special because it opens up the heart somehow. I "feel" it - it's more emotion than intellect or knowledge. Example: singing at the top of my lungs to especially good lyrics opens a channel for the creative energy to flow. It makes me step outside myself and allow something deeper to move in and through me.

In my case, that "something deeper" is the Holy Spirit. On page 76 of the Creative Call, this sentence caught and held me for awhile: "When we welcome the Holy Spirit into our lives, we are changed, and our art manifests that change."

I've played with writing on and off for years, and journaled about writing for years, but its only been in the last few years that this writing thing has actually blossomed and begun to take off. This has been alongside a spiritual growth and renewal in my life. Christianity has become very real and meaningful to me, and through welcoming the Holy Spirit into my life, I've seen changes in my artistic expression manifest themselves. Things are different now because of this partnership, this awareness of co-creation.

Prayer to the Holy Spirit

Come Holy Spirit and fill my heart, my soul and my mind. Fill me with your love and enlightenment. Fill me with courage to pick up my pen and allow the words to flow. I give myself as your servant, a channel through which your love and wisdom can flow. May my words always be to your glory. Amen.
* o

Creative Call - Week 5 - Just Breathe

Creative Call - Week 4 - Forgiveness

encourage: to inspire with courage or confidence, to stimulate as by approval, to promote, foster.

This week's journey through Creative Call has focused on forgiveness. Forgiving those who discouraged our dreams, forgiving ourselves for not being able to achieve what we once dreamt we would. Part of the exercise was to list those who discouraged our dreams. I really couldn't come up with a very long list. Sure, I had a couple of teachers along the way who were negative and reveled in humiliation and criticism, and yes, I occasionally got teased and laughed at by classmates, but I don't recall being specifically told I could not do something. I am recognizing that my biggest "discourager" was me. Me and Fear. Fear of trying, fear of failing, fear of being laughed at. Just plain fear.

Here's what I wrote in my daybook:

"As a child I dreamed I could write, act, and sing. I could express myself without fear. As I grew I became self-conscious, afraid to express myself, afraid of criticism and not being liked. I hid myself in safe outlets - a safe job that I could do well - because I was afraid to try, afraid to fail. Now I realize, creativity does not mean I must become the next best-selling author, but, rather I must dance with God in freedom and joy and release that joy in the ink on the page. Not for the world to judge but a love letter, a soul's journey, a prayer."

I am also looking at what areas in my life am I being an encourager to someone else. Do my words lift up or tear down? Have I discouraged someone in their dream? It's been a tough week, as I've watched myself stick my foot in my mouth several times and have regretted speaking words that were not encouraging at all.

A Prayer of Contrition

Father, I am sorry that I have let dreams die, not trusting that you would provide all that I needed - the spark, the words, the means to express myself. I'm sorry I thought I had to do it all on my own and forgot that it was a partnership between you and I. I resolve to seek your vision for my life and do my part to achieve that vision. I resolve also to encourage others around me, to use the words you give me to lift others up and to be on guard in areas where I might be tempted to tear them down. Amen. * o

Creative Call - Week 4 - Forgiveness

Like Wine for Chocolate

I occasionally like a glass of wine with a meal, but am by no means a connoisseur of fine wines, so every trip to the LCBO to purchase wine is an adventure.

I could spend literally hours just reading the wine labels. Not just because I can't remember if it's "white meat - white wine" or what goes with moose burger, but they are so poetic and, well, exotic. I can't decide between the one that promises "earthy tones with soft ripe sweetness" or the one that says it's "soft and velvety with cocoa-dusted berry flavours" made "exclusively for me". Are these wine labels or ads for E-harmony?

And, if seducing me isn't enough, they also make me hungry. There's the wine that I should "savour alongside wine-braised chicken with tomatoes and green olives" or the slightly less adventurous one that is perfect with "grilled meats, spicy salami pizza or lasagna". I am however, staying away from the one that claims to be a combination of "red cherry, anise, leather and tobacco" (leather and tobacco???) Forget the romantic name, they might just as well have labeled it "Grandma's Purse".

After being wooed by several suitors (err..wine labels), I chose an Australian Shiraz. I was won over by the image of "sweeping alluvial plains, rich sun-drenched vineyards and leaping kangaroos" as well as its promise of "berry and vanilla oak aromas." Anything to escape the mid-February blahs!

Oh, and the back page of the winter "Food and Drink" magazine claims that chocolate is the "new wine - intense, fragrant and complex." Mmmm, can you say decadent? Pretty soon the wine label writers will be writing up the instant hot chocolate labels and I'll be spending hours in the grocery store aisle trying to decide between "dark and devilish, with just a hint of mint" or "light and creamy with a fragrant bouquet of cocoa bean and vanilla". * o

Like Wine for Chocolate

13 going on 30

My baby is 13 today. I now officially live in house of two teenage boys. I'm an estrogen speck swimming in a sea of testosterone, desperately trying to stay afloat!

As I was bestowing birthday blessings on my fine young son this morning, his baby blue eyes peeked out from amid a mass of curly-gone-wild blonde bangs and he informed me that since he was now thirteen, we could no longer tease him about "PG-13" movies. Holding his face between my hands, I said "you're my PG-13". A frown creased his brow, and he quickly retorted he wasn't "PG". "You might be thirteen", I kissed the top of his head, "but you still need parental guidance". * o

13 going on 30

A Prayer for My Artist Self

Lord,
Help me to understand my creative self as a gift from you. Help me to find the time and discipline to practice my writing, to draw from your inspiration and not to lean on my own. Give me the courage to put my writing out there, for your Glory. Give me strength to face rejection and perserverance to keep on going. Creativity is joy, help me work in that joy. Amen. * o

A Prayer for My Artist Self

Creative Call - Week 3 - The Cat

"In the morning O Lord you hear my voice, in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation." Psalm 5:3

I am three weeks into a creative writing study from the book, The Creative Call by Janice Elsheimer. The book is similar to Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, but the spiritual focus of the exercises is Christian. Like The Artist's Way, the book calls for morning writing. Twenty minutes of writing in your "artist's daybook", first thing in the morning. I tried The Artist's Way years ago, but could never get past the morning pages. Of course, almost every book on writing promotes morning writing, and almost every book on prayer and bible study promotes spending time first thing upon rising in prayer.

I'm not a morning person, but I was determined to take a good stab at this so I took a hard look at my morning routine and how I could rearrange it. See, it's not so much the getting up in the morning to write that I balk at, it's trying to fit that in when I also have to go to work. With a little adjusting to my routine, I've found I only have to get up about 10 mins earlier than I was and I can fit the 20 minutes of writing in. I'm enjoying the quiet time, with morning cup of tea, pouring myself onto paper. It's not quality writing - it alternates from journaling, to prayer, to recording dreams of the previous evening, to dumping out anxieties - but quality writing is not the point of morning pages. Spending time with God, expressed through writing is. The twenty minutes fly by all too quickly.

The first week of writing, much to my chagrin, the entire household seemed to decide to get up earlier as well and I found myself with more company while trying to write. I'm protective of my alone time, so I was a bit resentful of these interruptions and a bit exasperated (how am I going to write if I can't get time to myself?) but thankfully they seemed to have settled back to their usual routine and I once again have quiet.

I am though, only in to week three. And the Lord knows me all too well. It is all too tempting, especially as I near the end of the week, to stay in bed an extra few minutes. Exhaustion always creeps up to me by Friday, so what starts out well on Monday usually falls apart by weeks end. To combat this, the Lord seems to have found a willing ally and partner in none other than my cat. At precisely six each morning, the cat begins to meow and scratch the rug, and meow some more, and jump on the bed and stare into my face, and disturb the dog so that he starts whining until I have no choice but to get up, feed him and let the dog out. Now I know the cat is but a creature of habit and routine, and just expects to be fed at the same time each morning and since I started this three weeks ago, he expects me to keep it up. However, I can't help but imagine God, knowing I'm tempted to keep sleeping, whispering into the cat's ear, "It's time. Wake her up. Do whatever you need to, but keep it up until she gets out of bed." I imagine He's smiling each morning, as I groan and stumble out of bed and downstairs to meet him between the pages of my artist's daybook.

In the morning O Lord you hear my voice. Sometimes that voice is grumpy, sometimes exhausted, sometimes excited to share my dreams with you but always the voice is confident that you are listening. * o

Creative Call - Week 3 - The Cat

Embracing Serafina

It's snowing out again, and the wind is howling. But I am warm and cozy and lately have been travelling through Europe.

How so? I've been immersed in a 603 page tome, "Embracing Serafina" by Penny Petrone. It's part memoir, part journey of self-discovery. And a great travelogue of Petrone's adventures.

I, who can find a dozen reasons to not even venture to the city in winter, am in awe of this woman's sense of courage and adventure. She often travelled alone, not something done by most women in the late 1950's.

Last summer I was signed up to take a memoir writing workshop taught by Dr. Penny Petrone. It was evident from the promo material that she was a well known author and teacher in the area. I was, as is common for me, oblivous to this fact and signed up for the workshop because it looked promising.

A few days before the workshop, Penny passed away. Her funeral was the day of the workshop. The class was taught by another excellent writer, and friend of Penny's, but it was evident from the memories and stories shared about her that day that she had indeed been an awesome woman. I found myself wistfully wishing I'd had the chance to meet her.

"Embracing Serafina" was given as a gift to those of us attending the workshop in honor of Penny's memory. This gift has been my opportunity to discover the woman who wrote it. To travel, to journey, to dream, to vicariously share her adventure. Her vivacious eyes sparkle from the photos within the pages. She must have indeed been a fascinating woman.

Fate may have cheated me the opportunity to meet her, but I am ever so grateful for writers who leave pieces of their soul forever bound in black ink between the pages of a book.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Penny and I are off to Egypt. * o

Embracing Serafina