One Lady a Leaping...

Hello My Sweet Blog!

Oh, how I have missed you.

I think I'm coming out from behind a creative block, of sorts. I just haven't been feeling the love. And, my attention, time, and energy have been needed elsewhere. I am here now though and I have something I really want to share as it is a bit of a breakthrough, and I looooove breakthroughs.

On February 11, 2006, my life changed in a way I had not imagined. I am afraid I would not have had the courage to imagine the impact, and it has taken years to realize the full effect. On February 11, 2006 I gave birth to my second son, Alexander. I had a very healthy pregnancy and there were no signs that my sweet baby would be anything less than healthy. Until he emerged. He was purple. His cry was very faint. The mood in the delivery room went from anticipatory to grave. I had no idea what was happening. Alexander landed on my belly for a brief moment, and then he was whisked away. I didn't hold him again for 10 days.

Alexander the Great this summer.

Thank God, it was only ten days! Thank God I held him again. Thank God he is healthy, and other than being a very feisty little guy, he bears no scars from his rocky start. We sometimes wonder if his start in life inspired Alexander's intensity, or if his intensity helped him fight for his life? I often think that if in the very beginning someone had said, "This will only last ten days," I would have been better equipped to handle the trauma of the birth of a very sick baby. Ten days doesn't seem very long to me now, but then, as the clock ticked, I didn't know what the future held.

I have told this story many times.

Each time I tell it I think, this is the last time I will have to tell this story. And then, each year since on February 11, I wake up eager to celebrate my boy and over the course of the day I notice a heavy feeling settling into my heart. I feel sad. Maybe even a little hopeless. I need to cry. And I always wonder if maybe this time I am really losing it... I can't figure out why I'm feeling the way I feel.

No matter how well we heal or much time has passed, our bodies remember trauma. Some people call it cell memory. I admit, it sounded a little hokey the first time I heard about it. But it is real. We are surrounded by triggers - scenes, smells, people, places - all of it and any of it can trigger a memory deep in our hearts and cause us to feel the way we felt way back when.

On a normal day, it may not be a big deal. We might make a quick recovery. But yesterday was a doozy. Not only was it Alexander's birthday, but we were also closing on the sale of our last house - the house where our family was made complete. The house Alexander came home to, and where his brother welcomed him. Just two years later, the pair of brothers welcomed their sister. Three years after that, in that house's kitchen my husband told me that my mom just called and said she thinks my dad is dead. We had people over after his funeral.

A huge part of my life took place in that house. It only spanned about six years, but those were six very big and eventful years.  Yesterday we cut ties with that house. It was the day I was called to let go of the house where the memories happened - where the people gathered, where my dad last played Amazing Grace before Thanksgiving Dinner, where my two youngest babies learned to walk and talk and where their big brother woke up on his first day of kindergarten.

I sure do miss this guy.

For someone else, maybe none of these things would matter. But for me, they do. When I was a kid people often said, "You're too sensitive, Anna..." I came to think that was a bad thing. Now I know that my deep sensitivity makes it possible for me to love deeply, and to feel intensely. It is a good thing. A very good thing.

Deeply and intensely I felt the weight of a loss yesterday. I felt the sadness of a good-bye. I felt empty. I was a bit of a wreck all day. I was lost in the muck.

A favorite spot in the old house. A decorator told us this chandelier wouldn't work with the farm table we had here. That made me love the chandelier even more.

I didn't want to wake up this morning. I wanted to stay in bed all day. I got up, I got going, and now I can say that today really is a new day. I feel lighter. I'm finally excited about staring some new projects. I was beginning to wonder if that excitement would come back. I'm writing on my blog... I think the fog lifted.

This was not the time that I finally lost it once and for all. I was triggered, I felt deeply, and I survived. Therein likes my breakthrough. In the thick of it all, when I thought this is it, I didn't see the light. I really didn't see the light. I forgot the light. It's strange how that happens, but for me it does indeed happen sometimes. With the sunrise today, the skies are still so gray here in Michigan, but there is the light of a new day.

I had to share that with someone. I know there are other people out there just like me - who forget about the light sometimes. I want you to know that it's out there. The light is waiting for you.

LEAP into the light.

This is a page I just finished for LifeBook 2013. It's all about Courage - there is  a bear in the background, and this little lady leaping into the light, I think. I'm not real crazy about how it turned out, but I love this lady. She seemed to be calling for a quote I love - "Leap and the net will appear." Julia Cameron said that.  I'm thinking lots of great things can come from a leap. Lots of good things.

In the light there is space for celebration. In the space left vacant by my memories of Alexander's birth, I can celebrate his 7th birthday and his zest for life. He is worth celebrating. In the space freed by memories of the life we lived in that old house, I is excitement for the family moving in there. I am so happy for them! I hope they are as happy there as we were. Even happier. And, like I said, after sitting in the muck all day, feeling what came up, today there is space to get excited about some new creations.   It is all part of the process - the cycle of light and dark and everything in between. Keep going. Keep moving through it, and into the light again. It's always there, somewhere, waiting to greet you. xo

My Word of the Year: Intention

tangles used: crescent moon, fescu, florz, and the word: intention

Mandala Monday is back! YAY!!!

Hmm... I'm not even sure where we left off with Mandala Monday. I'm guessing it was sometime in November before four billion tasks rose to the surface and begged for attention in December...

I missed Mandala Monday. I LOVE visiting The Bright Owl for Erin's templates and using them to create cool Zendalas. I also found that when I stopped doing this I more or less stopped tangling altogether. That just won't do. Zentangle as a practice is very important to me and this is a great way to supplement my practice. So, away we go!

Erin (Erin is the author and artist at The Bright Owl who posts a new Zendala template each week) wasn't pleased with her template and she challenged us to think BIG, then bring those plans to fruition. As I sat with my template all I could really think is that my stomach hurt. I decided to start with the tangle: crescent moon. I thought it might be fun to only use crescent moon for the entire Zendala! I didn't think of it at the time, but I think crescent moon appealed to me because my belly is sticking out like a crescent moon today! I stuck with crescent moon in the beginning, which was the center for me, but then the rest of the space seemed too big to continue so I introduced a few additional tangles and my word of the year: Intention.

When I was all finished I turned to my assistant and very best girl to ask her opinion. Do I keep it black and white? Or add some color? She stared at my Zendala for a good 15 seconds.

We spent a lot of time like this today. She coughed and I belly ached.

Then she said, "I think you should make the whole thing purple."

As is most often the case, it would have been hard to do anything BUT what my almost five year-old purple loving artist daughter suggests, and so I pulled out my new chalk-pastel coloring pencils (which I love madly, by the way) and colored the whole thing purple. Voila!

So, this word of the year thing. Yes, I have heard of it in years past and no, I have never chosen a word of the year before. It sounded very intriguing to me. I spent a lot of time thinking about just the right word and changing it around before I settled on intention.

in·ten·tion

1   a determination to act in a certain way: resolve

2

: import, significance

3

a : what one intends to do or bring about

b : the object for which a prayer, mass, or pious act is offered

Thank you Merriam-Webster.com.

Zendalas are all about intention. You can set an intention before you make one or as you take a look at one, a lot like walking a labyrinth or working on a maze. You would set an intention in the same way you set one for meditation or before yoga practice. It's the perfect way to empty your mind of all its confusion, focus on one task, which in this case is repeating patterns with deliberate strokes, and end with some clarity - another reason why I love Mandala Monday. It's a wonderful way to start the week.

I want to act with resolve this year. I want to be very deliberate, thoughtful, and mindful of what the choices I am making and who I am being each day this year. In 2012, I went balls out. I was all over the place - learning, trying new things, meeting new people, and moving at an often frenzied pace. I missed appointments, forgot things, and stopped taking really good care of myself (which is important to me because I want to be able to play on the floor with my grandkids one day). It was a GREAT year! (hee hee) Really and truly it was, but now I need to be a little more careful. I need to figure out what is most important. Sacred even. And move forward with intention in the spirit of supporting those sacred things. It will be another great year and I am SO excited about it. I am really excited about my word too. Intention and I... let's just say we go together in 2013.

For Mandala Monday, I invite you to set an intention and if you aren't ready to make a mandala, spend a few minutes looking into the purple, letting go of the confusion in your head, and paying attention to what comes up for you. It might look like this:

1. Set an intention, let's say to be grateful.
2. Take a deep breath (breathing is a great practice in general).
3. Quiet your mind... maybe draw circles over and over again, stare into the purple, or do nothing...
4. Wait. Listen. Take note of anything that comes up.
5. You're done.

You may not even realize it, but deliberately choosing to be grateful for those few minutes was of benefit to you. You may have relished in the image of someone who graces your life with their presence, and like a little prayer, your gratitude warmed that person. It's a lot like prayer.

Try it. It works! It may take some practice, but it definitely works. I like to begin a Zendala with the question, "What do I need to know right now?" By the time I'm finished I often have an answer to something I've been wondering about. Answering the questions that plague us is so much easier when we stop trying so hard to answer them with our minds, and instead quiet our minds and open up to the messages in our hearts. No stress, no worries - just have fun with it.

Thank you! xo

Epilogue: after all my talk about intention and hitting Enter on this post, I immediately left to take my girl to dance class. We were running very late. I was so intent on getting there that I DROVE RIGHT BY HER STUDIO! I didn't even realize it. Okay, it was dark oustide, but geez! These are the types of mindless mistakes I'd like to minimize in my life! Thank God for practice. Maybe I ought to add "practice" to the front of intention? But that would be two words. Sigh...

Moments of Truth and Inspiration

Ah, it's been awhile... I cannot believe it is already January 9, 2013. Wow. Oh, and Happy New Year, by the way. The holidays were such a blur. I almost feel as if I'm waking up from a dream - it all happened so fast. I don't regret a second of it, but my head is still spinning.

In the midst of the holiday season our nation witnessed a tragedy - Sandy Hook. No need to say more. My heart still hurts for the families of the little ones who died that day.

As is the case in times of darkness, light bearers come forth to shine their lights upon us.

I was lucky enough to catch one of those light bearers in action when she offered an opportunity for fellow artists, or anyone really, to participate in making Inspiration Decks for the family of Sandy Hook. Her name is Jessica and she writes about her Sandy Hook project here, in a post on her blog, In Search of Dessert. I saw Jessica's post about her idea on Facebook and decided to participate. I had never done this before, but Jessica provided links to tutorials so I wasn't too worried.

Jessica selected quotes for each of the participants and we each made 26 cards (for 26 families - 26 decks). Just looking at the quotes I could tell that they were chosen very carefully and with a heart full of love.

I asked Jessica what inspired her to take on this project. She said the following:

"Everyone making something so beautiful and thoughtful - all this art being made for Sandyhook. I wanted to know if there was a way that our Inspirational cards could literally be "inspiring" for these grieving families. I deliberately chose quotes for the participants (unless they had a specific one in mind) that would both comfort AND inspire them to know they'd heal and grow from this horrible experience. That they are not alone, nor forgotten, nor have they lost their loved ones "for good." Many quotes made reference to the true love, which transcends bodily form." 

While I was traveling over the holidays, Brave Girls Club (an entire tribe of women bearing light) announced a project along the same lines - a Brave Girl Truth Card Exchange. I won't go into too much detail because you can read all about it here. Very, very simply, Brave Girls Club is partnering with Full Circle Exchange to do big, beautiful things. One of these things is taking truth cards made by Brave Girls all over the world to survivors of human trafficking all over the world. It's so incredible to imagine something like that, like the beginning of a worldwide love epidemic.

Spreading the truth about who each of is  - goodness and kindness, strength and beauty, and crazy fabulous love - at our cores, in the center of our souls is something the Brave Girls Club does very well. Making truth cards, again - little cards bearing words and art - is a big part of that, and is something done at Brave Girl camp and in some of the Brave Girl classes offered online. I love making truth cards for myself and I LOVE the idea of sharing these truths with other women.

When I got back from my holiday travels, after the New Year, I got to work.

First, the cards for the Sandy Hook Inspiration Deck.

And in between - truth cards for survivors of human trafficking.

I imagined a mother. A mother receiving a collection of card-sized pieces of art, and not really knowing what to do with them. She may set them aside. She may come back to them. I thought about the hole my dad's death (almost three years ago) left in my heart. Thinking about my own little 6 year-old son, I couldn't even allow myself to imagine the hole left by the loss of a child. It is an unimaginable loss. I have always turned to the words of others to help me make sense of things I don't understand. I remembered the comfort I felt when I read inspiring, hopeful quotes about grief. Like a warm cup of soothing tea for my soul, the words helped fill the spots in my heart that emptied when my dad passed away. I hoped that the mothers who would eventually hold my cards would feel some sense of comfort knowing that they were being held in the hearts of many.   

I imagined a woman. A survivor. I couldn't imagine what she had been through. Again, unimaginable. But I could imagine Melody Ross, who founded Brave Girls Club with her sister, handing this woman a truth card. Melody is without a doubt an Earth Angel. Loving kindness drips from her pores. I had the privilege of meeting her this summer, and am inspired daily by her art, her words, and her work. So, I could imagine this woman being moved by Melody's kind and loving ways. I could imagine the love she would feel in Melody's warm embrace (Brave Girls are huggers). I hoped that in the absence of Melody, my little truth card might remind this woman the truth of who she is when she doubts it.

What if each of us had some artifact that told us we were being held in the hearts of many? Or, that told us the truth of who we are? The impact of these little gifts is so powerful. As Jessica said, these are gifts of true love, which transcends bodily form.

Within a week of introducing the partnership with Full Circle Exchange, Brave Girls Club received 1500 truth cards. FIFTEEN. HUNDRED. That is true love.

In these small gestures, these moments of truth and inspiration, lies a great big, HUGE, DEEP, deep well of love. This love is there for all of us. People like Jessica and Melody help us to manifest that love. Thankfully. But we can manifest it for ourselves and for each other too. It's there waiting. A big well of love for all of us. There are no shortages. The well never runs dry. I promise. Jump in.

xoxo

Love and Be Loved

Angel of Love and Healing Light

I spent Friday morning working some Christmas magic for a friend of mine. She needed some magic. The truth is that I needed the magic too. As busy as I've been and as overwhelmed as I was feeling, I jumped off my crazy train and opened up to the possibility of making space to do something nice for someone. It was food for my soul.

So, afterward my fellow elves and I went out to lunch. We sat at a table across from a gigantic TV screen. I saw "BREAKING NEWS" flash along the bottom of the screen and didn't think much of it. All news seems to be BREAKING these days. I try to avoid the news. My eyes kept moving back to the screen.

I saw the story. I couldn't believe what I saw. Parents holding each other tightly. Panicked, grief-stricken faces. 20 children confirmed dead. Soon, tears were streaming down my face. We asked our server to change the channel.

After lunch I picked my daughter up from her pre-school. Then, my first grade son from his elementary school. The three of us headed home and waited for my fifth grade son to get off the bus. We drove home. I decided to check Facebook while my kids hopped around the kitchen - giggling over the multiple ways they found to torment each other after a long day apart. With each post I read my heart sank deeper into my chest. My oldest asked if they could watch a Christmas movie. I closed Facebook, thinking I might never go back. At least not for a few days. I scooped up my babies. We situated ourselves on the couch, weaving our arms and legs through each other's arms and legs until we were content in one tangled heap. I squeezed each of them. I wanted them close to me. We watched Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. They stared at the screen, our Christmas tree lights twinkling as the sky darkened outside. I wondered how I could keep us all together, safe and warm, until the end of time. Once again, tears rolled down my face.

Like so many, I cannot even begin to wrap my head around the tragic deaths that took place on Friday. 20 babies will never again fall into a cuddly heap with their mothers or fathers, sisters or brothers. My heart joins the many hearts broken for the families who lost a loved one in Newtown, Connecticut.

What happened at Sandy Hook is unthinkable. The pain is unimaginable. Those parents are living every parent's worst nightmare. To lose a child - it's not natural.

When I see the list of names of the sweet little loves who lost their lives on Friday, it is the age that most of them share that makes my heart stop. So many of them were just six years old. I have a six year old. He is in first grade. He is curious. He is silly and spontaneous. He loves to joke around. He might be laughing one minute and screaming the next. When I look at him, I cannot bear the thought that so many families in Connecticut lost someone just like him - such a big life in that small body, and so full of love.

How can life just keep going after such a horrific loss? Where do we go from here?

A lot of people say we need stricter gun laws here in America. A lot of people think we need to provide better mental health care and services to those in need. I'm sure both are true.

Here is what else I'm thinking though... In order to go on, we need something bigger than stricter policies and better care. I keep thinking about my kids and how they might wake from a nightmare. They are scared. No matter what I do or say, they are essentially inconsolable until they feel safe, until they are wrapped in my arms.

It is time for us to wrap our arms around each other.

Trying to identify the meaning of such tragedy is a fruitless effort. We can make it mean something though. We can stop fighting. We can put our egos aside. We can open up to our similarities, our humanity, and to our lives on earth together, and decide that we're just not going to buy into the fear that makes us think guns can keep us safe anymore. The fear that keeps us glued to violent shows and video games, the fear that keeps our leaders arguing instead of working together, and the fear that makes us think there isn't something more - something bigger and better and truer - out there. Love is the opposite of fear. It is time to love and be loved. To treat every day like the day after a tragedy. We can be raw, vulnerable, and quick to comfort our friends in need. We can wrap our arms around each other. We can love and be loved.

We fill ourselves with so much negativity - the news, the net, the aisles at Costco. Our souls are on a processed food diet. What if, instead of spending 30 minutes watching the news and surfing the Internet, we did that for 10 minutes, and spent 20 minutes praying? Or just repeating the word: LOVE, love, love, LoVe... What if we were quick to forgive each other? What if we hugged more? What if we smiled at each other? What if we looked up from our smart phones and stared into our children's eyes instead? We would see love.

20 little bodies are no more, but those beautiful spirits live on. They are smiling, giggling, dancing in the heavens, and they are whispering in our ears, telling us that love is the answer. They are telling us to love big and hard and real. To love like a six year-old.

May those sweet souls rest in peace. May their loved ones find the strength to carry on. May we all find ways to open up to love and being loved. xo

Loud, Messy Family Love

tangles used: poke leaf, perfs, and lots of flowers and variations of crescent moon.

It's Mandala Monday at Heart Connected. Here is today's mandala...the template comes from Erin at Zendala Dare. I decided to try a little color this week. I love the stark contrast of black and white, the Zentangle standard, but I have some new pan pastels that I wanted to dig into. The tones of the colors are more muted than I expected. I am okay with that though. I almost ditched the thing at one point. I wasn't liking the way it looked. But I remembered... it is about the process and I just changed my direction. I cannot say enough how much I love the fact that tangling, the method used in my mandala, mimics life in that way - not loving it, don't ditch it, change direction.

Over the weekend I spent a night with my cousins and aunties and my mom and sister. It is a tradition - the gathering of the Secret Pals! It all started with a gift exchange, but now I think the gifts are just a cover for a night of crazy family fun.

Through my mandala making process, my wandering thoughts kept making their way back to family. 

I read this blog post today, by Glennon of Momastery. I really love her and her message. The gist of today's post was that the family we see, on Facebook or on a person's annual Christmas card, isn't the whole family. There is the family we see, and then the family that exists beyond the picture. The family that can be messy and loud and sad and angry and not always clean and smiling for the camera.

That loud and messy family is CERTAINLY my family, even though I do enjoy our annual photo shoot for our Christmas card. My husband and I figured out that the secret to getting our kids to smile all at once is to make fart noises. It works every time. It only took us about 8 years to figure out that little gem. He stands over my head making fart noises and I snap like crazy. I take a ton of pictures for the photo shoot and then we narrow it down to the one that says LOVE the loudest. It's hard to depict love, of course, but we can usually find one picture that captures the sparkle in each child's eye and the endearing look that says, "I love my dad. He makes the BEST fart noises!"

Shortly after I read Glennon's post, my mother-in-law called. She had seen a few pictures of my aunties and cousins and me on Facebook and said, "It looks like you had a good time this weekend!"

We were all smiles. I did have a good time with my cousins and aunties, my mom and my sister. We laugh a lot when we are together. It is lovely to spend that time with them and beautiful to capture our joy in being together on camera. It is fun to post the pictures on Facebook for the rest of our very large and spread all over the country family to see.

While we had fun and we are indeed smiling for the camera, and without a doubt, there is so much the camera can never capture. That's the stuff I kept thinking about today as I tangled within the bounds of my mandala. I kept coming back to the fact that in the near future my aunt will undergo a stem cell treatment. The fact that the oldest auntie, my Aunt Maryann, has already passed on and her absence is always obvious at our Secret Pal gatherings. And, of course, that my grandma, who was there when it all started, isn't with us either. That in the group of ten of us, we have experienced many, many losses, divorce, anger, lots of anger, heartbreak, devastation, tough times... all that loud and messy, sad and angry stuff that life is made of.

And yet, we smile. 

We have a great time. We laugh and we love each other, even though we are a loud mess sometimes. Okay, in my case anyway, we are a loud mess a lot of the time. 

Today, if you do these things, take a minute to look closely at the mandala... look closely at the round boundary of this circle, and consider it a warm, sweet hug around your neck. Feel the hug and know that whatever is happening in your life, whatever it is that the rest of us cannot see, it doesn't change the fact that you are loved. Loved like family.

Take care! xo

What it Really Means to Keep it Simple

tangles used: Fife, Fescu/Opus variation, and Socc (sort-of)

This morning I was thinking about everything I need to do to prepare for Thanksgiving Dinner at my house on Thursday, and Pierogi Day (an Oginsky Family tradition) here on Friday. The list is a little daunting. I have been resisting the whole thing and having flashbacks to the sheer exhaustion I felt last year after this series of events took place at my house. It is all delicious, glorious, joyous fun, without a doubt, but it is exhausting.

I thought about my vow to keep it simple this year. I thought if I can just get through this weekend, THEN I will keep it simple. I took a deep breath and I kept moving. I noticed something strange. Even in the midst of my resistance and fear of exhaustion, I wasn't feeling even a little bit nervous about the coming days and my list of things to do to get through them. This is odd for me.

Then it clicked. When I vowed to keep it simple, I thought about taking it down a notch or two in the volume of what we do...what I buy, what I wrap, what I bake, what I prepare... What I realized today is that while those choices play a part in keeping it simple, the beauty of keeping it simple, lies in my ability to SIMPLY BE. No nerves, no worry, no fear of not meeting everyone's expectations, just showing up to stuff the turkey and put it in the oven. With my intention to keep it simple, I must have let myself off the hook a little. I gave myself the gift of being different this year, in addition to doing things differently. Being. Doing. There is a difference.

So it seems that keeping it simple has less to do with all the variables, all the stuff that gets in the way of really enjoying the holidays, than it does with SIMPLY being present. The turkey essentially takes care of itself. Why worry? What matters most is not what we eat or how the table looks, or even how I look, but who shows up to share it. For me, keeping it simple means showing up as-is and pouring myself into the people who showed up with me. My people. My sweet little, lovable people. Now, I am even MORE excited to keep it simple!

For Mandala Monday (which is actually Tuesday, I know), I invite you to take a minute and think about the plans you've made and all the variables that those plans encompass. Now take a deep breath, and blow it all out the window. Think about your loved ones and what they care about most this holiday. It is not really what you do or how you do it, but that you are there with them. No worries. Simply show up.

Happy Thanksgiving!
xoxo

p.s. I LOVE this Zendala. I wasn't going to participate this week, but when I saw Erin's template, I knew I just had to do it anyway. I tried the tangle, fife, which was inspired by the Flower of Life and I think I might have experienced some enlightenment. Wow. More about that some other time...

Tangling: Food for My Soul

tangle used: a variation of Pixie

Mandala Monday was almost Mandala Tuesday at Heart Connected.

I had one of those days... I woke up late, which was very unfortunate because I had no time to wake up late. Fortunately, my husband took my oldest to his bus stop. But then, my two little ones and I were late getting out the door, making them late for school. I was late all day. And, there was an emotional tornado of sorts striking at my heart today, stirring lots of muck right up. It wasn't a bad day, I just felt heavyhearted. And late.

Early this evening, before dance class and Cub Scouts and kind-of in the middle of dinner, I began to tangle. With each stroke, my heart rate decreased and by the end of my Zendala, I felt brand new. I kept it simple with the tangle. It is some variation of Pixie that I concocted. It looks like a poinsettia to me. Could it be the influence of the holidays fast approaching? Maybe. One thing is for certain though, tangling is good for my soul.

For Mandala Monday, I wonder, what might be good for your soul? What could you squeeze into your day - something little that might make a huge impact on your mood or your state of mind? Could you whip up a colorful meal? Bake some cookies? Tangle. Figure it out. Then, fit it in. You deserve it.

Have a great week!
xoxo