Love & Glitter

Pushing On Instead Of Pushing Back

I'm practicing taking ten deep breaths and censoring myself every two seconds in response to stuff I find challenging. I know that the majority of the people in my life (both personal life and wider Internetz life) are cool with me, and I know that focusing on those who aren't is a monumental waste of time. I know that what's best for me is to ignore ~ completely ignore without exception ~ the crap and focus instead on the love, the shiny, the work, the forward thrust toward what I want.

I'm also working on being less thorn and more rose in the world (which is kicking my ass!) and that is a worthy undertaking. 

But, (you saw that coming, didn't you?) being the control freak that I am, I have been desperately needing to do *something* while ignoring stuff. I have this uncontrollable need to process out loud what is happening in my life in a place where someone who might need to see it might see it. And in this very powerless feeling place, I need *something*, goddess help me, ANYTHING to give me the (okay, false but temporarily satisfying) sense that I am not powerless over teh Internetz Dramaz. 

So, yesterday, I was thinking about writing out what is known in recovery circles as a fearless moral inventory of all my failings and character defects and posting it here so people could just copy and paste it when they want to talk about me on the Intertubz.Then I thought I should write a blanket disclaimer using all the labels that have been applied to me. I considered erecting a page like the one over on Dooce.com  (one of my personal heroes) in which she has cleverly monetized the 'hate' that gets dumped in her comments and inbox on a regular basis. (It is a meme now, hating Dooce. I wonder if I will ever be that popular?)  

I decided against that, too, because who needs to be reminded of one's own bad press every time one goes to one's blog?

I spent three hours writing what can only be described as a venty screed. I let it all out. I did not hold back. I was feeling a lot liked I'd been wandering around like a battered wife holding her lips together and her guts in.

But that's awfully victimy, and I don't want to feed that either. So I deleted it. 

And then I decided to talk to a friend I trust, who helped me get perspective. And then she sent me this blog post, which seriously, you should NOT read if you are enjoying a beverage of any kind. 

(Go read it! You will laugh so hard your guts will hurt! I'll wait...)

So I read it and I laughed so hard my guts hurt, and I sent it to my husband who also laughed so hard he FARTED and we decided that $38.00 in shipping charges was not too much to own one of those $16.00 metal chickens. I whipped out the credit card and I ordered one and I'm now waiting to put it in my work space so every time I think "I should waste my time and energy fighting a battle that isn't even mine to fight" I will see said metal chicken and laugh my ass off. 

Perspective. I can has it. 

So, here's what I decided to do in the end. I decided to focus on the people I love. I decided to write an open letter to those who might be scared to act on their impulse to follow their dream because they saw someone else get lambasted on The Internetz. 

Dear Shiny Soul With Tender Dreams:

This whole Internetz Drama thing? It happens to a lot of people who start to get 'too big for their britches' according to those who would prefer you to stay small. It has happened to many 'big name' and 'small fry' mixed media artists. It has happened to many pagan community leaders, many poets, many content providers. Almost everyone gets hatemail. Almost every one gets bad press. Some get more than others depending on how controversial they are, or how hard they push back. It's not just you. It's not even about you. It's a part of the process. 

What I've learned so far is that the harder I push *back* the worse it gets, and the less energy I have to do my work. Pushing back is not only a waste of my time, but it feeds the very thing I *don't want in my life*. So don't push back. Learn from my mistakes. Ignore it. Seriously. Pay it about as much attention as it's worth: none. 

Chin up. Eyes on the prize. Push on instead of pushing back. Don't stop. Don't believe your own bad press. Listen to those who value you. Do your fearless moral inventories. Keep yourself in check. Admit to those who come to you with honest grievances when you have wronged them, but do not, for one second believe that some random, mean-spirited, vitriolic person on the Internet is entitled to ONE SECOND of your time, ONE TEAR from your eyes, ONE MOMENT of your consideration. 

Maybe everyone will abandon you because someone on the Internetz thinks they should but that's not what tends to happen. What tends to happen is that those who criticize your shiny things instead of spending their time and energy creating their own shiny thing attract to themselves exactly the kind of people you don't want anywhere near you, and they get to sit around talking about how awful you are. Meanwhile,  you get to do your work, create kick ass content, and hang out with the fun, self-aware, nonjudgey, thriving, glitter flinging, amazing, insightful, supportive, encouraging, gorgeous people that you *do* want in your life. 

The DramaLlama is an excellent gardner. It prunes your rose bushes. It dead heads your poppies. It weed whacks. If you let it do its work without pushing back, it will ensure that you are surrounded by the people who value you, appreciate you and support you in your work in this world.  

***

Now THAT was worth my time. 

Hallelujah.

Love & Glitter,

Effy 

 

There was a screed here.

I deleted it. Because I'm flighty like that. 

So shoot me. 

:)

I'm going shopping at Michael's with a kick ass coupon and then I'm going to sit somewhere peaceful and quiet with my manfingy. 

Internetz, I quit you. 

(Until tomorrow, anyway.)

The Original Wound

So, we've moved (not so gently past) the losing my shit part of the program and into the dealing part, and I'm breathing a deeply grateful sigh of relief that instead of spending 48 hours in a twisty knot of ohmyfuckinggodthisisawful, I only spent about ten hours in that unfortunate state.

Between the manfingy running me a rose scented bath and my friend of 12 years reminding me (in not so gentle, but much needed terms) that I am okay with her, that I am better than okay, my bad moment turned into a pretty good and deeply insightful day. 

"You're owning your stuff." she said. "I hear a lot of how you are accountable for your experience" she said. And just in case you get the mistaken impression that she is all sweetness and light, she also said "Fuck them." and "People who see their shadow in you HATE you. That's ALWAYS been true. Get OVER it." 

So, this is the truth as I see it. This is how I move in the world. 

I like myself. I like how those I love always know where they stand. I like how I tell it like it is. I like how easily I let go of what isn't working for me. I like how freely I give of myself until I no longer feel like giving. I like that I say what I see. I like that I own my mistakes and do my best to fix them when given the opportunity, but I also like that I can move on from them. I like that I am adaptable. I like my strength. I like my fierceness. 

I affirm that I'm not here to make anyone else comfortable. I'm doing my own work, processing my own shit, owning my own life. 

Yes, I want to move with less thorn and more rose. I want to be a person of easy grace and forgiveness. I don't particularly like the fact that I attract more than my fair share of Teh Crazy ~ but I get that I probably attract it because I *am* my own fair share of Teh Crazy. It's also come to my attention that I mirror shadow for a lot of people. At first, that's attractive, but like any relationship, the honeymoon ends. They see shit in me they hate and so they hate me with a passion. We're not talking about the more healthy 'meh...not into her...moving on' type reaction that people without Teh Crazy practice with ease. We're talking *pure, unadulterated, vitrolic, bitter hate*.

It sucks sometimes. 

I'm not a victim of it, though, and most days I'm not sorry about it. Those who love me *realllllly love me* so it makes sense that those who hate me hate me with equal vigour. Thankfully, they are not equal in numbers, though sometimes they make a helluva cacophonous lot of noise. 

Here's where things get sticky for me: being blessed with my particular brand of neurosis, those who hate me with vigour and venom get a lot more of me than I'd like. I mean, I know (and the people that love me know) that they are projecting, and the bits of truth that swim in the public cess pools they produce are unrecognizable once they are done with the hyperbolic rhetoric. 

But I can know that in my head, and still hurt. I can listen to cooler heads and still feel completely baffled and frustrated and pissed off.

I don't get this kind of hate, and I don't hate that way. I don't hate, actually. Either I love you and I'm cool with you, or I love you and I'm pissed at you, or I am passing curious about you, or I kind of like you, or I am completely over you.  

I sure as hell had that kind of hate modeled for me, though.

See, those haters that I struggle with are pushing my original wound right in my face and because we're dealing with the original wound here I give a lot of weight to the hate. I keep trying to figure out why the hater hates instead of doing what a healthy human specimen does: turn the loved face toward the lover and loving back.

This is not me whining. This is me owning. That is my cross to bear, the proverbial thorn in my side. This is the curse I inherited from being despised by my mother. See, I mirrored her shadow, and she couldn't face it. Here was this angelic looking little girl (and I really was) who'd witnessed violence against her mother at the hands of her father, who had then been sexually abused by her mother's lover, who had then been emotionally abused by her mother's second husband, and my mother could not face that. She could not accept that her poor choices led to the gross violation of her child. If she'd ever asked, I would have forgiven her. She chose to project it all onto me, label me, and pretend to discard me while talking about me with family members and friends instead.

Kind of like my present haters do.  

Calling bullshit comes easily to me, but the consquences are still difficult for me to deal with. (See above with regards to the original wound.) You are talking to a girl who sat her mother down and said to her face "You didn't protect me from him." I was met with "He was very good to us, and you were a very provocative child." I was six. I always tell the truth hoping for resolution, but secretly I am braced for another line like that one, another indictment, another 'well, that's your fault and here's why...'

And with those I love, that fear is completely unfounded. They receive my truth with (initial discomfort but eventual) grace and acceptance. Shit gets worked out. The sun shines once more.

But I have a magnet for those things that will help me heal my original wound, so sometimes, I throw my truth around like pearls before swine (and, no. I'm not calling my haters swine. I'm calling my throwing around of truth wasteful.) and the results are usually very painful. 

Despite this and despite the brutal fucking travesty that was my childhood, adolescence, early (and even later) adulthood, despite the challenges I've faced, despite a brokenness many of you can't even possibly begin to imagine, I put myself back together. I faced my shit. I marched my ass to therapy. I owned my flawed humanity. I dared to write poetry. I dared to write at all. I faced my own failures. I made my amends (often, over and over again, because I fuck up a lot, as do we all). I lived through horrors and did not let it turn me into a messy pile of bitter victimhood. Okay, I had my moments (years) but I moved past them. I grew. I learned. I *thrived* and I continue to *thrive* and if I piss a few of you off along the way, well, sue me. No one is holding a gun to your head. If you like what I do, how I move through the world, great. If not, go find someone else to like.

This life? It's precious. I'm not being arrogant here. It weighs more than one life.  My sister, who experienced many of the same horrors I did, did not survive. She took her own life. So, when I take the bull by the horns, I see her face before me. When I face adversity, I see her face before me. When I stare down some random, entitled, nasty person who thinks I owe them something, like carte blanche to behave badly in my life, or my ear when they are pouring nothing but poison, or my hard work when it gains me nothing, or a chance to sit at my hearth fire uninvited, I see her face. Through her death, I have faced my own mortality and I know how precious life is. I know how important it is that shit gets worked out. I know how valuable time is and that it is not to be wasted on social niceties or relationships that make you unhappy or work that sucks the life out of you or people that don't value you. 

Because I'm living 'for two' in a sense, I live as honestly, as authentically, as boldly as I possibly can. And I inspire people to love me a lot. And I inspire people to despise me. And I'm coming to accept that neither is within my control. I give up. I'm going to be me. Lovers gonna love. Haters gonna hate. Some lovers will become haters. Some haters will (and have!) become lovers. 

I'm in a 'business' where everyone talks with a honeyed tongue, and I am no different in the sense that until you give me reason otherwise, I am going to love on you. I am going to support you, encourage you, fiercely defend your right to practice your art. I am going to tell you what I like about what you've made. I'm going to empathize with you when you're having a bad day, and I'm going to cheer with you when you're having a good day. I'm not here as a life coach (tried that. hate it) or a counsellor or an expert. I'm here as someone who is doing her *own* work where you can watch. That is my vocation. That is my way of being in the world. 

I'm going to respect your way of being in this world.

Even if you don't respect mine.

But I'm not going to sit in the lion's den with you and try to pull the thorn from your paw when you are screaming in my face that I put it there. I'm not going to agree with you that I put it there. I am not going to shrink so you can feel bigger. I am not going to go belly up so you can feel powerful. I'm not going to lie so you can feel comfortable.

My mother would love that. My sister would hate it.

Guess whose side I'm on?

 

 

 

Totally real, unshielded, gross public display of angst and snot bubble inducing bawling ahead. Disregard if you wish. It won't hurt my feelings.

Ya know. If my ex-best friend had talked to me about *any* of the things that were bothering her before she dumped me, we might have worked things out. Talking about it afterwards (and in public, no less) seems a rather shitty parting shot, but I maintain this: She is a wonderful person and a very talented artist. It is sad and frustrating to me that she prefers to air our dirty laundry on line instead of working things out with me, especially since I never knew what her grievances were, but that's her choice to make. I could go line by line in my own defence, and I admit, I'm very tempted, but I'd rather be happy and at peace than right and in pain. She has her perspective, I have mine. 

My perspective is that it's true I made a lot of mistakes running WPS. I was new at it. I was a control-freak. I was anxious. I knew nothing about the phases of group formation. I let drama ruin it for me. I mixed business with friendship. 

I failed to make it work. I totally accept that, and my part it in. And yes, when I realized it was a failure, I was more than ready to move on with very little regret. I didn't know it would cost me my most valued friendship. 

But, listen. I learned a lot, and I'm proud of persevering and creating something that rocks my life. I have no shame around being a person in perpetual progress. I have no desire to hide just how very fucked up I can be. I'm not here to be perfect or to pretend like I have it all figured out. I'm totally flawed, totally human, and totally okay with it. That doesn't mean I don't struggle. It just means I'm not in denial about having issues, being prone to fail at least as often as I triumph, and being completely clueless sometimes. 

I'm fucking sad. I am tired of people dealing 'about me' instead of dealing 'with me'. I can't stand the way the Internet makes dialogue difficult. I am frustrated by passive aggression, by hearsay, by having other people's shadows projected on to me. I have enough shadow of my own without having to deal with yours. 

I would like to come to a place where this kind of thing doesn't bother me, and to be honest, when it's just some random person on the Internet, I have learned to let nastiness go. But Maisy was my best friend. I love her. I'm sorry I hurt her, I'm sorry I didn't get an opportunity to hear *from her lips* the ways she felt I'd wronged her, and I'm sorry she decided to dump me and blog about me instead of working things out with me. 

Hell is other people, they say. But I still believe the same can be said about heaven. I just need to remember that and focus on that and make that what I notice, appreciate, and nurture in my life. 
I'm going to go cry now and work this shittiness out in my art journal. 

Please keep your comments respectful of the fact that my guts are hanging out and my heart is fucking broken. I really don't want pity, and I don't care 'who is on my side'. It's not about that. It's about being real about where I'm at. 

Happiness Is...

...a week during which I was totally in the flow.

...only six spreads left to fill in my first Book of Days.

...a ginormous new Book of Days ready to be smushed full of my life.

...meaningful work.

...the beautiful Sisterhood LaRue. 

...less Facebook.

...more time out of the house.

...live art streams. (Seriously. I *love* live streaming so much that I've added a second show on Thursdays!)

...*Happy Mail!

...the new website for Book of Days

...being too busy living to blog.

...chicken salad with raisins on toasted French bread.

...good coffee.

...finding fellow mystics.

Mmmm hmmm.

Here's the latest recorded Wild Soul Art Stream. 

Wild Soul Art Stream #3 ~ February 19th, 2012

Live video for mobile from Ustream

I Really Am Okay. :)

Inspired by the fabulous Sisterhood of the Book, I have adopted a name for my inner turtle (also known as my muse, my internal inspiration station, She Who Creates). 

And she told me today that she wanted dangly feather earrings and wrist bangles. 

So I took her shopping.

And she is very happy. :)

I don't know why I'm sharing this with you except that I want you to know just how very *okay* I am. 

Your letters & messages have buoyed me right up out of the ghetto of self-doubt. You. rock. my poptarts. And I am very grateful that I'm priviledged enough to have an opportunity to, in small ways, rock yours. 

(Wow. That was a doozy of a sentence.)

Because, listen. Internet Drama? So not even on my radar. A great service is being done for me by the Universe. My rose garden is being pruned. What is being excised is nothing I want anyway. The paring down means we get to have more light, more love. 

What I began last year felt like it was going to be my 'forever thing'. And it was beautiful for a while. I knew nothing about group formation, though, and I was ill-prepared for the 'storming' part of the group formation process (Thank you to my LaRue sister who knows who she is for naming this for me!) and I admit: it freaked me out. I felt like my world was coming apart at the seams. Because I *ran away from the storming*, because I didn't *deal in a transparent way* with the stormy ones among us, the group didn't get to move into 'norming and performing'. Wild Precious died. I couldn't stand to be there any longer. Neither could my partner. Yes, I'm admitting I let a few people ruin it for me. Yes, I'm admitting that they won. 

But I won, too. Because what I learned from that experience is informing how I handle this bit of stormy weather. 

I know better than to run away from the 'storming'. I do things with as much transparency as possible. I don't delete shitty messages left in my worlds. I let people see exactly why someone is being excised from my life like a dangerous, cancerous tumor. 

Because, listen. Toxic is toxic. Trying to work with it feeds it. Leaving it alone and moving into spaces where love lives, where encouragement lives, where people know your worth, feeds something in you. 

Which would you rather do?

And also. I get that one girl's toxic is another girl's champagne. I don't expect everyone to be allergic to what I'm allergic to. 

But I *do* have the right to say "You do not belong in my garden. You are welcome in my foyer or in my front yard or in the house down the block, but I don't want you that close to me."

I will say it nice the first time.

And then I will say it firm. 

And if saying "You do not belong in *my* garden" makes me a dangerous person? Then, I embrace that kind of dangerous. 

Good boundaries, people. 

Get some. 

All my love,

Effy

 

 

Rose scented soak in a claw foot tub (okay, so it's an 80 year old claw foot tub, but still!). Breakfast sandwich made by the beloved and served on a paper towel with a fresh cup of coffee on the side. A day ahead of me to do with as I please. The LaRue Crue (you know who you are!) flinging glitter, kicking ass, and buoying me up. The Cosmic Cowgirls. The Red Madonna. Friends who have no interest in cashing in on me in any way shape or form. Friends who send love letters *just because* they know I'm having a rough day. Red wine enjoyed in moderation (instead of used as medication). Stand-up comedy. Shopping for a Macbook with *my own money*. Hair that is now long enough (barely, but still!) to go up in a pretty clip. Pink. Purple. Glitter. A dog that does Jazz Hands whose name is also Jazz. A son whose troubadour nature makes me cry in proud and puffed-up-mama way. Another son whose intelligence leaves me with jaw hanging down around the vicinity of my ankles. A daughter in law who pushed through hard stuff with me and now calls me Mom (and now I'm crying). Another son whose own self-inquiry saved him from the hellish halls of addiction. A step-girly who studied hard all weekend and passed her history exam. And got a part-time job. And plays piano like an angel. A daughter who mirrors me, loves me unconditionally, and makes me happy simply by virtue of her being on this planet.

This is what I'm attending to today. You?

Love and Glitter,
Effy

Your Story and LIAV and Andrea Schroeder! YAY!

I'm happy to offer you a preview of what we usually do in BOD on a weekly basis. This is a sampling of one of the three emails that will go out to our members this week. xo Hello lovely. :)  It's Monday! And yes, I'm late, but it's still Monday, and I have a video as well as a guest post and some musings for you.  ***  In our last dispatch, I offered up a few questions to consider as you went about your life. Some of you have already sent me some gorgeous, deep, authentic answers.   I'm going to be honest with you. These questions were pretty triggering for me. I have a hard time (have always had a hard time) dealing with the 'They' and 'their story' about me. It is one of the most painful and difficult challenges I face, and I have put myself in a particularly vulnerable position by being 'out there' in the way BOD puts me 'out there'.     But triggered or not, I mused and I jotted and I wrote and I arted. And here is some of what I know for sure:    I do not inhabit my story. My story inhabits *me*. I find this distinction important for me because though I believe my story informs me and shapes who I am, I don't believe that I *am* my story.    Good thing, because sometimes the story I tell myself about myself isn't a very nice story. Better thing because sometimes the story other people tell about me isn't very nice, either.     But it's just a story.     *It's Just A Story*    It may somehow reflect where I am in my journey today. Or it might reflect where I was in my journey last week. It may or may not even be true.       But it's just a story, and I'm bigger than my story. I can change my  story. I can reframe it. I can choose a different ending.   So can you.     For more on this, I invite you to take a look at The Work of Byron Katie. My other answers took me down some long and windy paths.   I wanted to share them here, but I realized that they were ridiculously personal, and most of you just want the art. But I want you to know: If I had 37 days left to live, I'd eat a lot of brie. I'd dye my hair pink. I'd do a lot of snuggling! I'd excise anyone from my life that felt toxic. I'd embrace those who felt like healing salve. I'd art. I'd write letters to my loved ones. In other words, I'd live with my whole heart.   And can I share something with you that's really sweet to know? I already live this way.          Here's The Video      Just click to access. No password is required for this one. xo And now a word from the delectable Andrea Schroeder! Your Art Practice can Supercharge your Intentions Let's start with three basic truths: No person is more or less worthy than any other person. No dream is more or less worthy than any other dream. Life itself wants all dreams to grow and is always actively engaged in supporting their growth. So why do only some dreams make it? The easy answer is that most dreams don't grow because most people don't understand how to grow them.  It's not taught in elementary school like it should be.  Personally, I had to spend a lot of time, money and energy in order to learn.  It doesn't occur to most people to do this. But that's not the whole story.   In my training to become a teacher in The Art and Science of Bringing Dreams to Life, I saw lots of people learn all about how it works and still fail to bring their big dreams to life.   And I always wondered - why was I different?  As soon as I started taking classes things became really easy for me and by the time I'd finished my training and become accredited as a teacher - there wasn't a dream that I was not able to bring to life. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out why this stuff worked so well for me because I wanted to help my students get the same results. And I found the answer in what I thought was the most unlikely place:  ART. I am an artist.  For me, creativity and spirituality are 2 different ways to describe the same thing. By the time I was in the advanced classes studying The Art and Science of Bringing Dreams to Life (in my third year of classes) - my essays had turned artworks.   I remember bringing the first one to my teacher and saying "This is just how it came out.  There is too much to express here, to use words alone." and he said as long as I had the required number of words there were no stipulations about the words being printed on plain paper so I continued to created artworkessays. Because creativity is one of my core Superpowers. And if you're an Art Journaler than I suspect that Creativity is one of your Core Superpowers, too. Which means - when you combine intention setting with your art practice - magic will happen. You know how amazing art journaling feels. You know how it's super amazingly good for you. It's because arting puts you in your creative flow. It ignites your Creative Magic. (And with Creative Magic ignited there is nothing you cannot do.) The next step is to direct that magic towards what you want to create in your life. Because creating dreams come true in your life is not really all that different from creating art journal pages.  It uses the same creative building blocks: taking risks, listening to your heart, trusting your intuition, being brave, putting it out there, expressing your truth. You already know how to do all of this stuff.  All you have to do next is direct it towards setting intentions and bringing your dreams to life. Create a page that shows you living your dream, right now.  Make the page feel the way living your dream will feel.  Don't try to plan it out too much, just get into your creative flow and let your intuition tell you how to create this page. The magic part is that this page will be filled with clues and information about your dream and how to bring it to life. It can tell you where your intention is solid and clear and where there is something blocking it. It can show you what supports you, and what blocks you.  It can tell you what your next steps are to bring this dream to life. It can show you clues that lead to secret shortcuts. And if you're ready for more, I've created a whole kit full of lessons and magic that will lead you through every step of turning your Art Journal into a Magic Wand and using it to bring all of your dreams to life.     A Note From Effy:  I love everything Andrea and here's why: She is a creative Bad Ass. She kicks fear and doubt to the curb. She knows how to engage the inner critic in super efficient and helpful ways. She is one of my most powerful influences when it comes to art as spiritual practice. This kit will rock your poptarts. (It totally rocked mine!) This, and anything else Andrea produces (even her blog posts!) will get your inner muse dancing within you and set your heart alight with creativity. {The above are affiliate links. I do not promote things I do not believe in. If I talk about it, I love it.} A final word:  And That's All She Wrote!   I'll see you Wednesday with more Life Is A Verb. If you miss me in the meantime, you can always read my blog! Effy  P.S. If this programme is a blessing to you, please consider tipping me? Your support makes this project happen! xo

Wild Woman & Madonna

If you look in my sidebar over there you'll see a graphic for 'Way Of The Wild Woman', which is a course that is gently paced enough that I have added it to my considerable list of 'stuff I'm doing for myself this year'. 

I spent the better part of the morning immersed in looking over the course materials, watching the lovely videos, and undertaking the recommended reading: The introduction from Women Who Run With The Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes PhD. 

I took a moment to gather my thoughts on paper after reading:

When I first read this book (over 20 years ago), I was a very young woman who, after having escaped an abusive childhood, landed herself in a series of abusive relationships. At the time, there was balm to be found in the book (especially the story of The Ugly Duckling and the chapter on the feral woman), but I'm reading it from a very different place now, and I'm 'hearing' different things. 

On page 9 (in my edition), Dr. E talks about all the various symptoms of having been cut off from Wild Woman. As I was reading, the faces of people I encounter on a regular basis flashed into my mind. I had to forcefully shut the book, shut my eyes and tell myself: Woman! This is for you. Look inward, and only inward. We are not here to diagnose and treat the masses. In your work, you are Priestess, yes. But in here, you are acolyte. You come as beginner. You come with your hands open. You come to be healed, not to heal."

Wild Woman Smack Down!

It was really powerful. I felt Wild Woman stirring, rising up, refusing to be denied. "This is for you" rang like a bell in my ear, and I took a deep breath and went back to reading, releasing all thoughts of who that line might apply to. I looked into the mirror. Into my own eyes. Into my own soul. 

There are many symptoms there that used to apply to me but don't any longer. There are some new ones that have arisen as I've stepped into my role as creative midwife and priestess of Awen (Welsh for inspiration).

I am chronically frazzled, furious, fuming. I am all fang and claw too easily where I was once all underbelly and offered  throat. The pendulum has swung from submissive, easily turned, easily chased off to alpha: snarling and defending my terrority like my life depends on it (because it does), killing off what is mortally wounded (the Studio), making space for new pups to be born (BOD), running off predators with fire in my eyes and belly...

It isn't comfortable, but then, She is calling me out and when is being called out *ever comfortable*. 

I am blessed to be engaging these stories once more, not from the perspective of victim (and oh, was I ever in my victim skin last time I read this) but from the perspective of Healing Woman. I am Healing Woman. Not downtrodden, not oppressed, not abused, not a victim...Healing. In process. Coming out. 

***

I'm also working pretty intensely with the archetype of The Red Madonna (with the ever gorgeous Shiloh McCloud), and I realized that Wild Woman and Madonna are two faces of the same Mother. Where Madonna is embodied compassion and mercy, Wild Woman is fiercely protective, fanged and furred. They *seem* completely different, from different ends of the spectrum, but when I think about motherhood (my own, those I've witnessed), I see that Mama wears both these faces interchangeably, unapologetically, authentically. 

The Madonna is in the Wild Woman and the Wild Woman is in the Madonna and they are both in me.

***

As I'm learning to let my true essence shine out of my skin as I engage the world, I'm noticing that I swing from Madonna to Wild Woman on a regular basis. Some days, I am all fang and fur and back the fuck off. Other days, I am sweetness and compassion and 'come on in'. 

I am reaching for some place in the middle.

Thanks to my teachers, Shiloh and Melissa for giving my true Mother back to me. 

 

January 2012 In Review

Now that I have developed a definite, structured practice, I'm excited to do a month in review! It's nice to have done so much doing & being and to have such a gorgeous record of it! As some of the Sisters in Book of Days say: I have an awesome BOD! Hah! *giggles*

January has been *awesome*. I have ticked off everything on my to do list this month (including dyeing my hair pink!) and I've not missed one art spread that I intended to do. I've made connections with some of the world's most beautiful women (and one man!) through The Sisterhood of the Book, and all the losses I've suffered or the traumas I've experienced feel distant and utterly redeemed.

There is so much grace in my life. 

The women (and man!) of The Book of Days programme are my greatest blessings. Here's what a few of them have had to say:

Dianna Milano: ‎Each time I watch one of your videos it seems I learn something new. I really enjoy all of the programs you have offered that I have been a part of. My goal this year is to develop my skills and to express myself on a deeper level. It seems it is easy for me to write about how my day was or what I did, but when it comes to checking in with my self emotionally that's harder. Slowly but sure I know I will get there if I keep arting with you! I have also really enjoyed all the feedback here in the facebook group. Everyone is so thoughtful and encouraging. It's a great experience and I am so glad it's for the whole year!

Debra Bradshaw Parker: It's difficult to put into words how something as common as an altered book would end up touching so many aspects of my life. Anyone can alter a book and art journal, but Effy, you have taken me and over one thousand other sisters on a phenominal journey. It boggles my mind to think that we've only been together for less than a month. The knowledge that I have gleaned in this short time has turned my life and arting around! I am so thankful for your very informative videos and am saddened when they end and can't wait for the next one! 

My past has been like a steamer trunk that I've hauled behind me through life. I purposed in my heart that 2012 was going to be the year that I *empty* the trunk and smash it to bits. Little did I know that you and your wonderful program was waiting for me when I needed it most. 

Besides being an AMAZING teacher, you have shared things from your own life experiences that have really helped me deal better with my painful past. I just love the fact that as I am growing as an artist, I am also growing into a more confident and strong woman as a result of finding Book of Days.

Thank you Effy, SO MUCH, for all you've imparted into my life. ♥

Arlene Holtz: This group and working on my Book of Days journal has really brought me the feeling that I can truly do it - I can journal regularly and express myself visually as well as in words. Before this I could only admire and look at others' art journals. I have a way to go to truly break through my tendency to get "stuck", but I feel more confident now that I am changing that. It's a wonderfully supportive and fun group of people, too, and Effy truly has the capacity to encourage people to open up their own creativity. I love it!

Cathee Riggs Stegall: All I can say is... I am doing it. Working the work and making a difference in my art life...even with a background in fine art ( which is sometimes more hinderance than help! ) I seem to be learning every time I PLAY in my journal. I am learning about myself,my craft and the other women that are on this journey with me. It is a life altering ...altered Journal. THANK you Effy for being an encourager and a creating a gathering place we can all call home. A true sister hood!

Janet Smith: I am so pleased to be able to journal the ordinary. The simple things in life in a simple way, I was worried at first that everyone would be journallling such exotic and fancy live experiences in such ornate pictures and I would not be able to keep up that pace. Thankfully, Effy you have modelled that everyday stuff is ok. Thank you.

*~*~*FLINGS GLITTER*~*~*

These comments were written in response to a simple question: "Now that we've come to the end of our first month together, how are you feeling about Book of Days?" I picked just a few from among the many responses I received to give you a taste of the *gorgeousness* I am surrounded with on a daily basis. 

What I've gotten out of my first month with BOD is this: I art every day except my chosen day off (Saturday). I sit down and I do it. I share it with people of like mind and spirit. I am constantly encouraged and blessed by interaction with the classiest, most talented people I've ever been in contact with. I become aware of where I need to improve BOTH in terms of my rather delayed social skills and in terms of my art skills. I am fulfilled. And now, thanks to the premium program, I get paid, too. 

It is quite the delicious package!

Thank you all so much for being here with me on my journey.

Love & Glitter

Effy