Just Write

Just write. Cursor blinking. Fingers typing. Words filling the page. Just write. It's that simple.

I like to complicate things. I like to obsess about, well about anything really. If it is simple, I make it difficult. If it is difficult, I make it impossible.

My brain flips through an imaginary thesaurus. Not this word, it's not right. It has to be perfect. I need to find that one word which will convey the exact emotion, the exact meaning. I need you to understand what I am trying to say in the way I am trying to say it.

It used to be fun. It used to be a joy to let my fingers fly at the speed of my imagination. It used to be everything I wanted. But I got in the way. My brain said no, it's not good enough.

My heart still tells stories. My imagination still runs through fields of daisies. My fingers yearn to fly. They scream at my brain, "shut up, you big meanie. Let us out to play. It will be good. It will be enough. It will be real."

So brain I'm putting you on notice.

Just write. Cursor blinking. Fingers typing. Words filling the page. Just write. It's that simple.

Rust

My fingers sit poised over the keyboard unsure of what to do. They touch keys here and there, as if the S, the R and the L could tell them what to do. They used to fly so freely, tapping out truth and story. My truth. My story.

My mind runs through endless to do lists. I have to do this. I need to remember that. It has not run through a field, picking dandelions for inspiration. My mind has not spun fantastical stories. It has not given birth to wonderful ideas that have me springing out of bed at 2 am to have my fingers express.

There is a rust in my fingers and a haze in my mind.

Once I was a writer. Once I created stories. Once I told truths.

Life and stress have dulled the vivid springs in my imagination. The technicolor jungle has been enveloped in dark shadows. The fairies and sprites do not dance as much, there is no music.

Occasionally, I feel footsteps. I hear the rushing waters and drum beats in the distance. I long to follow them to that place so beautiful and brilliant. I hope to catch a glimpse of words frolicking, joining together creating dazzling stories. I hope to catch them. I hope to set my fingers free once more to dance on the keyboard.

I want to tell stories.

I want to tell truths.

I want to shout once again, I am a writer.

The Hamstacks

Bunny is very creative. She loves to paint and draw. She also loves to make up fantastical stories involving dinosaurs, rhinos, rabbits and trees (or whatever strikes her fancy at the time). These stories can go on for hours but are only told to her stuffed animals not to me.

She has combined her love of art and her love of stories into an interesting little world, the world of the Hamstacks.

What is a Hamstack, you ask? Well I am not exactly sure what a Hamstack is or where she came up with them, but the picture above is a typical representation of a Hamstack family. Each line in the picture is a Hamstack. She paints these Hamstacks over and over. In fact every piece of art involves Hamstacks.

As she paints, she narrates what each Hamstack is doing. Their activities often tie into her daily life. Yesterday we went to the zoo so the Hamstacks did too. Today she woke up with a cold so the baby Hamstack had one too. The brother Hamstack was quite worried about the baby but he knew the mommy Hamstack would take care of him.

We have several Hamstack portraits hanging in our family gallery. Bunny will often take visitors to a certain painting and tell them what is going on in each piece. This Hamstack is doing this, that one is doing something else and so on. The visitors are amazed and rightly so, the Hamstacks are an interesting bunch.

In fact sometimes I am jealous of the Hamstacks because they appear to lead much more interesting lives than I do. They are from France, they have traveled the world, they are scientists and artists, they throw killer parties, they live the life of leisure. And me, not so much.

Creating a Mess

Bunny is very creative. She loves to draw and color and paint. It makes her happy.

And seeing her happy makes me happy. I love that she loves art. As some of you know, I've taken a challenge to create something everyday for one year over at my new blog Juniper and Coffee. It makes my life so much easier that I can sit down and create along side my budding Picasso.

And her approach to art is very inspirational. She just dives in. She doesn't care what people think. She only wants to put the paintbrush, crayon or marker on paper and see what comes out. I love listening to her little comments as she is going along. "Oooh Daddy's gonna to love this." "Isn't it pretty, momma?" "When I'm done its gonna be so nice."

She's all about the process. She doesn't sweat the details because its going to turn out just fine. She doesn't agonize if there is a mistake because there are no mistakes. Every stroke belongs on the paper just where it is.

Now she and I have received about the same amount of artistic training, which is to say none. However, I often freeze when it comes to the output because its not what its supposed to be. Its not "art". I've seen art and what I produce isn't art. So I get frustrated and scrap project after project because its not perfect.

That is why I am loving the challenge created by my other blog. I have to throw caution to the wind. I have to get over my preconcieved notions about what is or isn't art. I have to let go of the hang-ups I have over my abilities or lack of abilities.

In other words, I need to get in touch with my inner three year old.

Back to Reality

The staycation is over. Bubs went back to work this morning. And we are back to our old routine. Well actually the staycation was a preview of our new routine, staying indoors.

The weather has turned cold. The leaves have fallen from the trees. The tundra is ripe for freezing. Winter is coming to my part of the world.

There will still be occasional ventures outside if the thermometer registers above 40. But it will not be the same. We will be bundled up in heavy winter coats with hats, scarves and gloves. Battles will be fought over the clothing options. Sweaters must be worn despite objections.

We will no longer ramble freely in the parks in search of squirrles, chipmunks and deer. There will be no more hikes looking for the perfect leaf. We will not stand on the banks of the river communing with the ducks.

Our journeys now will be ones of imagination. We will build magical castles in the dining room. Our living room will become dinosaur island. We will take our tea next to a volcano with all sorts of wild creatures. Lizards, snakes and parrots will be our companions. Bunny will be the queen of this magical mysterious place and I will happily join her on her adventures.

Let's Build A Word

Words are magic.

The process of putting letters together to build words and words together to make sentences is very powerful. It allows you to express a need, a desire, an idea or a thought. It allows you to communicate with the outside world.

The right words put togehter the right way have an even greater power. Words can create poetry and art. They can make you laugh or cry. They can make you fall in love. Or they can inspire you to take action.

As a writer I struggle with words every day. I have an idea in my mind that I want to express. I could just use the basic words to describe it.

Bunny jumped in a pile of leaves.

But that really doesn't do anything for you or for me. Kids jump in leaf piles every day in the fall. Why was it special? Why should you care? The right words will set the scene. The right words will make you understand the beauty of the moment. The right words will make you wish you were there with her, laughing, dancing and experiencing pure joy.

Often for me, the right words don't come. I can see them in my mind. They are there just out of reach. If I stretch far enough I can reach one or two. Maybe I can grab enough for a good post, maybe not. I have enough posts that I've started with a good idea only to be abandoned because the words did not come.

Every day I sit at this computer and write. I try to write better. I try to write more. Sometimes its not enough, my words have failed me.

But the true magic in words is in their discovery. The discovery that certain letters and sounds make words and those words mean something to someone. The discovery that even if the words you make don't mean anything, they are still magic.

I will sit on my living room floor and close my eyes just to experience that magic. I hear words like dog followed by bog, fog, log, hog, jog, nog, mog and frog. Cat is followed by bat, hat, sat and mat. A newly built tower will be cristened a rockstack because there is no other word to describe its magnificence.

Words are placed into action to describe play. The dino went here, he did this. Then they are streched into stories describing events that can only take place in her imagination.

It is in those times that I am remineded of the magic and beauty of words. I remember that even the simplest words have power and I am inspired to try harder.

A Door Is Never Really Shut

This is a lesson you learn when you live with cats and children, there is no such thing as a closed door. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen a little paw reaching under a door trying to pull it open. Or how many times I have heard the sound of a little hand trying (albiet unsuccessfully) to open a door.

Doors are not meant to be shut. There are rooms behind those doors. Maybe the room is really messy and you just want to shut the door so no one can see the clutter and chaos. Maybe the room is empty, just waiting for someone to come along and live in it. Maybe its the bathroom and you just want a few minutes of peace.

There are things on the other side of those doors that are part of our lives. We can't really shut them out.

I tried shutting a door recently. I proclaimed to the wilds of the internets that I was no longer reneedesigns.



But the second I tried to shut the door, there was something trying to push it back open. I felt an overwhelming urge to create. It didn't matter what it was, I just had to make something. During my toddlerless times, I found myself in the car driving to the craft store or to the bead store. I found myself holding beads in my hand imagining what they could become.



I've been searching for inspiration too. Looking for something, anything to ignite a spark in my soul. Things like the colors of the leaves, the doodles of my daughter have lit a slow burning fire. I've got a million ideas in my head trying to find a way out

I am reneedesigns again and it feels good.

Wanna Hear A Story, Momma?

A mommy jellyfish and a daddy jellyfish and some baby jellyfishes were swimming. They saw a volcano and jumped in the volcano. They had a good day.

The end.

As told by Bunny to her mother, to share with all of you.

Risk

Lately Bunny has been taking more risk. She is pushing her boundaries. She is branching out, trying new things and seeing how far she can go. It is a good thing. She is learning and growing up. But she knows that I will always be there to catch her.

Watching her take these risks makes me realize that I haven't taken much risk in my life. I've always been the good girl, done what is expected of me. I've rarely stood at the crossroads and taken that twisting turning dirt road. I usually travel on the paved roads.

I went to law school because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wanted to do it. But I also harbored a dream of moving to New York. I didn't take that risk. And looking back I am glad that I didn't because I met my husband in law school and we adopted Bunny. That time the paved road led to treasure.

But I want to be an artist. To write, paint, draw and make jewelry. To date I am simply a dabbler. I enjoy doing it but I don't take risks so it never rises to the level of art. Its good but not great.

And why don't I take those risks? Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of being laughed at. Fear of fear. So I live my life in a state of half-assedness. If I'm not trying then I'm not failing. Maybe I'm numb and have to walk into a few walls to wake myself up.

So now I'm opening myself up to the world. Here I am naked before you. This is me, this is who I am today. I am trying to take those risks to make myself into the person I want to be. Maybe its good, maybe its not but it is something and that is what is important.

Attitude of Gratitude May 28th

Its Wednesday again and it is time to share what I am greatful for.

Today I am greatful for a toddler's imagination. Yesterday Bunny and I spent over 1/2 hour sitting on my bed pretending. The bed was the park and we were swinging on it. Then it was the beach where we built sand castles. Then we went to sleep in the sand castles. Finally it was a car. I had the blue car and Bunny had the black one and we were saving the purple car for Daddy.

It was the first time I saw her pretending without the aid of any toys. This all just came out of her imagination. It was beautiful and fun and I will treasure it forever.