How perfect to pick the Advent word PLAY on the first day I had planned to paint with the whole rainbow of colors in my 4th grade art classes. 

We painted cardboard in all the colors.

Though our goal was to end up with a variety of colorful background pieces, inspired by the method Eric Carle uses to create his art, some students created beautiful abstract masterpieces, such as one boy who named this piece, "Joy."

And this one that he named "Depression."

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

Next week each of the students will receive some of the cardboard they painted in all the rainbow colors and they will use it to cut out shapes to glue together their own robot sculpture. (Inspired by a book I love with images of Picasso's whimsical sculptures. I found it at a secondhand bookstore, where I said out loud, "I didn't know Picasso did sculptures!" I am so glad he did.) 

This is my robot I made as a sample. What a perfect day for PLAYing. 

I'm really excited that I am able to create art everyday, and plan to channel this new explored discipline into the upcoming year of the Secret Message Society. Do you want to create art as a living practice too? You can join me in 2016! 

I had to drop by one of my elementary schools yesterday to pick up some paint I needed in order to create a sample. On my way out of the building I found this little pinecone sitting on the sidewalk. When I saw it I wanted to draw it. 

I picked it up and put it in my car. The pinecone went throughout the day with me, out of my car into my home. I kept thinking I'd come back to it. I didn't. I was completing other tasks like GIVE-ing my time to getting groceries and making dinner for my family and taking care of details for an impromptu art gallery showing for some of my top elementary students. The evening came to a close, and I thought, "Sorry little pinecone. I'll have to see to you tomorrow. And I will. I promise." 

As I give to others, so I am given to. My life is abundant. This pinecone was my gift. Much like my neighbor's pine trees gifted their boughs in the ice storm for my holiday decorations, so this little pinecone broke up a very heavy day of giving of myself, by offering up its simple beauty to me. 

I took the pinecone with me to school to teach today. I really expected to draw it in the morning before class started or on my break. I didn't. Instead there were classroom logistics I needed to see to. More GIVE-ing of me. My pinecone rode home from school with me in my emptied coffee mug. 

When I arrived home, I went in and put my stuff down. Then I grabbed my pinecone, my sketching journal and a got a chair off our front porch. I put it in the sun which felt so good on the bare skin of my legs after a day of being tucked away into a classroom. I listened to my son and our neighbor playing basketball while I began to draw.

My youngest daughter came out to watch me for a bit. "I wouldn't have the patience to draw a pinecone," she said. 

"I find it so relaxing," I said. 

I knew that in my future was making dinner and my oldest daughter's first band concert and ice cream out to celebrate afterwards, but right now, there was my pinecone to see to. 

It reminded me of something I read from Carrie-Anne at AnnaPurna:

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

The weather was incredible yesterday. Being outdoors was an indulgence. After an enjoyable slow morning with three of my kids, we ate lunch and then I cleaned up our living room, hung the Christmas stockings by the fireplace and went outdoors to rake up leaves and haul off branches.

A recent ice storm here deposited some of our neighbors pine tree branches with pinecones into our side yard. I laughed, thinking about the first year I did this Come Thou Long Expected Advent experience. I remember going to Walmart and asking a man in the garden center if they had any leftover pine from the Christmas trees that I could use for decoration. This year, the trees delivered their boughs directly to me, and I scooped them up with glee and trimming them up so I could arrange them around our hearth. 

The yard work took longer than I had expected, which wouldn't have been a problem but once again I had a desire to pack more into this "free" day than was going to be possible. At one point while I was standing on a step-stool rehanging the prayer flags that had fallen in the storm, I noticed the electrical outlet on our back porch and in the spirit of indulgence and enjoying myself in the moment, I brought our radio out of the garage, plugged it in on the back porch and turned up the classical Christmas music from my recently found favorite radio station. You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch was playing. The sun on my face and hands and neck, the crisp breeze in the shade, the crunch of leaves and the sound of beautiful music all around me. It was nice.

While sweeping off the back porch with a broom, I came across a dead ladybug. It was so tiny in the midst of my "great big project," that it felt like a gift. Something of manageable size. I decided I would paint it as my symbol for indulge because in the midst of big messes little indulgences always appear to help me through. (Like Cinderella's little mice friends.) I laid the lady bug on a patio table and went back to working. 

I found my Buddha statue (which had already been broken in two pieces a couple years ago) dismembered and lying under a pile of leaves. "You poor thing," I said. "I have just the place for you."

I walked him to the front of the house and arranged the dirt so dismembered Buddha could be balanced enough to look properly put together. I really like that my Buddha has a giant crack in him. He seemed happy there in the front, and it made the entrance to our home look more peaceful and inviting and safe. 

Creatinglittle pockets of beauty around my home yesterday felt indulgent, especially since I had a yard of leaves I was supposed to be cleaning up. I told myself, I don't have to get it all done today. I can clean up one corner of the yard at a time. Besides, the other two corners still have trees that are dropping leaves. No sense doing it twice. I had cleaned up the front yard and the side yard and one corner (the Buddha corner) of the backyard. That felt like a win for the day, and I still had time to make it to the library before it closed. 

In a haze of wrapping up my clean-up for the day, I folded up the patio table, forgetting all about the fact that I had laid my ladybug there. It wasn't until late in the evening last night, after dinner had been eaten and cleaned up and I was ready to paint, that I realized, I had lost my lady bug when I folded up the table. I turned on the back porch light and looked for the little bug, but to no avail. 

"Well, great. Now what will I do?" I thought.  

I came back in the house and was pouring myself a glass of water when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A bug was flying around our dining room light. As I got closer it landed on the light and I noticed that it was a ladybug! I scooped it up and laid it on the table to get a few photos.

This is the magic of my life. 

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

 In the clean and freshly decorated living room. I painted my ladybug while we watched The Goonies (our family's Advent activity of the day). There was a lot of work involved in the indulgence of my day, and I was savoring it with every brush stroke.

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

Yesterday was the perfect day for acceptance. I got to accept that I forgot to set my alarm and must have needed the rest because I slept through my husband's early morning departure and didn't wake up until the light was coming through my bedroom windows. So much for getting things done before my kids awoke. 

I got to accept that the correspondence letter I was writing for The Magic School was igniting in me all sorts of rabbit trails and the good sort of tears and was certainly not going to get penned in time to get it to the post office before they closed. It actually felt good to know I wasn't going to make it "in time" and that suddenly that meant I had all the time in the world to pour into this one letter for this one person.

I got to accept that the fun things I had planned to stuff into a Saturday were not all going to come to fruition. As the evening approached us, I made the decision to put away my fun to do list and engage in our family's Advent event of the evening which was to make Christmas cards. 

I got to accept that making Christmas cards for friends and family is art and does "count" as my Advent Art of the day, because I am the one who came up with the challenge for myself, and I too am learning that more things count as art than I often acknowledge. I don't have to add one more thing to an already full day. I CAN LET THE ART that naturally occurred BE my artist expression of the day, much like my friend noticed when she created this piece. 

I got to accept, as I dropped my sore tired body and my scratchy throat into bed, that I might just have to give in to what I really need, and opt to not go cheer on my oldest son and husband in their cycling race on Sunday, even though I hate to ever miss a race.

Laying in our bed, enjoying each other's warm presence before we accepted the challenge of this beautiful Sunday, my husband and I talked about my decision to stay home, and I felt the relief wash over me. To accept that I can't do everything I want to do. To accept that sometimes a choice of one fun over another, is what keeps the joy protected and abundant in my life. 

When I told my other three kids that we wouldn't be going to the bike race today, they each deep sighed with their own kid-sized relief. It seems we all needed another free day to do our own thing.

And oh the tears that welled up in my eyes when I drew out my Advent word for today, Day 6, and it was INDULGE. 

I wonder if acceptance is always followed by indulgence? To let go and to be filled up again. My throat isn't even scratchy this morning. It's like my body saying, "Thank you." 

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

Yesterday when I was driving out of my neighborhood, I found myself at a stop sign behind another car that was turning left. It was then that my eyes made contact with their license plate...a few letters and then this: CRE8.

You can't ask for a better secret message than that on the day you chose CREATE as your Advent word of the day. 

Speaking of creating, the Secret Message Society will begin a new theme in 2016 called Let's Be Artists. You are invited to create your own zines alongside me in 2016, artfully documenting your living. More details available HERE.

Yesterday, after finishing my day teaching, I got to spend some enjoyable time to myself in the coffee shop I used to work at. I sipped on an Americano and a yummy bowl of potato leek soup while putting together this blog post. Then, with oil pastels, I put the finishing touches on some secretmessage artwork to be used in the Secret Message Society for the upcoming year. 

When I exited the building and was walking to my car I started thinking about my Advent Word I'd picked for the day - MOVE. I smiled, thinking about my last class I had taught that day (one of my three most difficult classes) and how much MOVEment occurs in that classroom. With MOVE on my mind, I made it a point in that class to flow with their MOVEment as best I could instead of trying to stand like a blockade in the midst of them, forcing them to do something more passive and confined. I noticed that though the room seemed like complete chaos, this class actually produced the most creative art I had seen thus far in the week. When they were asked to add their own ISH cat faces, they went for it! The results were thrilling and I told them I thought so. 

In my fourth grade classes we talked about still life's this week, and I told them how much easier it is to practice drawing something if that something stands still. Attempting to draw their baby brother or sister or cousin would be wildly more difficult than drawing a pear. As I was considering how easier STILL life's were to create and what art I could come up with that would encompass the word "MOVE," I passed a wooden door with green paint that caught my eye. 

Of course, a door! 

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

I took a picture of the door, because I had to get home, and later I used the photo and oil pastels to draw this door-ish art you see above. 

Illustration from The Magic School, Course 101. 

In Course 101 of The Magic School we watch Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium which has a Door of Rooms. We also use Keri Smith's book The Imaginary World of... That book begins with a picture of a cracked door.

In the Wild Mystic's course, Into the Dark Night, we begin with the notion that "someone left the gate open" for us to slip through.

 The fiction book I am currently reading, a spin-off of Alice in Wonderland, talks about a locked door on the beach that stands strangely alone, without any doorframe. The door says "keep out" on one side and "out keep" on the other side. The main character becomes fixated on that door and getting through it.  

To me, a door means I have options. It means I am not stuck. It means there is a way to keep MOVE-ing forward. A door is a portal and I like to keep one tucked in my back pocket just in case I feel trapped.

Earlier this week I created a little house out of cardboard, like these. I didn't get out my Exacto knife to cut out windows, but I did cut out a little door that could MOVE back and forth. Interesting foreshadowing for my Advent Day 3, and my word "move," don't you think?

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

My next door neighbors' cat is named Violet. They actually have two cats, but one, the black and white one, is an introvert and we have not been properly introduced. Violet, however, always makes herself known. She meows as she prances right up to me and then rubs her body along my calves and my ankles. 

Black and White Cat created by one of my third grade students.

Yesterday, when I came home from teaching 3rd graders how to create a Paul Klee Kopy Kat, I put my stuff inside my home and then walked back out to check the mail. Violet was there waiting on me. She meowed, showing off her sharp teeth and pink tongue. She pushed her feline body into my legs, purring at the pressure. She rolled on her back and batted at a dry leaf. She would let me pet her, rubbing my hand along her bony back, but only for a few seconds. She was determined to be in control of the situation, coming and going flirtatiously, whipping her tail around real slow like. She purred as she made her way between my legs and into visit my garage. 

"You're right! You are a flirt," I said to her, thinking of the Advent word I had selected earlier that morning. "Let me go get my phone so I can take your picture." 

I had no idea how hard it would be to take a photo of a cat, especially a flirty one. I have very little experience with cats. I don't believe I've ever seen Violet sit still, that is, except for when she is hiding under our mini-van when the school bus arrives. I have seen her down the gutter and up the pine tree though. 

This is the best photo I got of her, and I decided it was worth a shot to create a piece of art from. This week in my art classes we worked with watercolors for the first time this year. I also watched a short YouTube video by this artist yesterday morning, and so I was feeling inspired to use watercolors. 

My interactions with Violet have been so lighthearted and playful. It makes me happy to see her, to touch her, to want to be wanted by her, on again, off again in a Blushing Wild sort of way. I can relate a lot to her behavior.

Oh, and did I mention my youngest son got to meet his favorite blue guy, Pete the Cat on Tuesday evening?! Cats are seriously flirting with me this week. 

Hello Artist. You are welcome to use this photo to create your own still life. 

We are being inspired by Paul Cezanne and creating still life pieces of art in my 4th grade classes this week. I took the above photo of a plate of fruit and we used it to draw from. 

I took the pear on the back right with me to class yesterday, as another visual. My pear is now famous. I asked a student if they wanted her autograph, because I was asked "Is that the actual pear from the photograph?!" My pear got named things like "Pear-y the Platypus" and Pear-y-winkle." I told them at the end of the day I planned on eating her, but when the time came, I had trouble doing it.

I had gotten a bit attached to the pear, afterall, I had used my magic (and the students had used theirs) to make her OUR pear in OUR story. Magic makes inanimate objects come to life, you know. I decided to give her one last debut before I walked out the building, eating her with juice rolling down my chin.

"Oh, no! You're eating THE pear," said the students I passed in the halls.

"It is okay," I told them, waving my art. "I drew her first!"

And so, without further adieu, I give you...Ode to THE Pear.

I'm creating a piece of art for every day of Advent. I'm randomly selecting one of my Come Thou Long Expected word prompts each day as inspiration for my art. You are welcome to join me. 

She represents the word permit to me for these reasons:

• I am permitted to make my life fun.
• I am permitted to make inanimate objects come to life.
• I am permitted to enjoy the combined imagination of those in my life to take perfect storybook ideas (like a pear named Pear-y-winkle) and speak it into actuality in "the real world."

• I am permitted to cheer when the student who started the class blowing me off circles back around and finishes strong, creating the piece you see above. He kept asking that brilliant artist question that has been asked throughout the ages: How do I make it look like that?!
• I am permitted to treasure a pear, so that when I eat her at the end of the day she truly feels like the most decadent of forbidden fruits.
• I am permitted to savor beauty.
• I am permitted to take time to make art.

• I am permitted to frame my own art, knowing and valuing what it meant for me to create it.
• I am permitted to treasure THIS day and THIS fruit because it is mine, and if I don't make it magical, it will slip, as if stolen by a masked bandit, into another black blur of chaos and busy and something that was mine to own, if only there were time.
• I am permitted to adjust when plans don't go as expected, because I ate a magical pear and its sticky juice coated my insides with possibility. This is what we refer to as Dark Magic in Into the Dark Night. 

I was at the gym on the stair stepper at 6:15 in the morning reading How To Be Parisian. That was when I read the recipe for Chocolate Fondant, and I knew I had to make it. 

Paris has been on my radar since last Spring when I started purging clothes as we were getting ready to move into our new home. When I looked up minimalist fashion it seemed I kept getting drawn in the direction of Parisian minimalist fashion. The greys, the blacks, the navys, the stripes, and did I mention the greys? (*Side note and secret message - I just finished reading Natalie Goldberg's Living Color in which she acknowledges her surprise when she supposes her favorite color is grey.)

The interest in Paris continued to grow and I found myself checking out How To Be Parisian from the library. It is a fun read - very playful and somewhat sarcastic with beautiful color photography. My favorite pages are the seasonal color palette from a day in the life of a parisian, each coulour named intimately from the details of real life:  There is something very whimsical about this read, and so I was quite enjoying myself at the gym as I tried not to drop beads of sweat on the borrowed copy. 

I had 13 more art classes ahead of me for the week and was feeling unsure if I had the magic to pull myself through it, and that was when I came across the Chocolate Fondant. I tell you the whole week ahead of me seemed to shift into the category of possible and doable and quite enchanting. My life felt bigger than it had when I woke up that morning, because now I wasn't the woman who would throw her purse on the counter exhausted at the end of the work day, knowing I had to push through to dinner. No! Now I was the woman who had a rich confection to create à la française.

I pictured the red rasberries I would place on top, and I decided I would cut a sprig of rosemary from my flowerbed, as it was the only green herb still flourishing. I could see the small white plate I would lay the contrasting slice of cake onto, and I could taste the dark chocolate dissolving in my mouth.

Why, with the creative accomplishment of Chocolate Fondant to show for herself, a woman could do far more than teach 13 classes. She could probably smile while doing it, maybe even hum a made up song. She might pick out a grander outfit and do her hair with one more bobby pin than normal. She might even read out loud from a chapter book to her own children at night before going to bed.

I finished my workout and went to the grocery store to buy eggs and the darkest most luxurious chocolate I could get my hands on. It was not even 7 in the morning yet, and I was so assured of the beauty of the day that it was already warming my insides.

At a little after 4:00 that evening I waltzed into my home, turned on the classical music, changed my clothes and proceeded to create my Chocolate Fondant like some stunning heroine stolen from the heady middle of a French novel. 

When you construct your life like sentences that would fall out of your most favorite piece of fiction, supposing you could tip a book and knock the wondrous letters and phrases out into your hand, you can access magic at your fingertips every single day. It gives me great joy to delve into this practice of working my magic. It is what The Magic School is all about. To become the very character you'd most desire to read about, and to pick up tips from other storybook characters along the way. 

Course 101 of The Magic School begins again in January. You can apply HERE. In the meantime, Advent is a perfect time of year to utilize your magic. Come Thou Long Expected is an eBook Advent experience I created a few years ago, and it continues to be an uplifting tradition for me. I've been thinking about ways I could do portions of it with my family this year. You can read about it or purchase it HERE.

ISSUE 32 is here!

Sagittarius Secret Message for Secret Message Society Members.

Members can tiptoe into the Secret Lair for a digital download! 

Art by Cassandra

The Sagittarius issue features Cassandra Aswani as the centerfold artist.

And also contains contributions from these artists:

DEB TAYLOR

JACK

I would really love to send you this zine in the mail! There are digital and snail mail options available. Read about them HERE. 

Join us for the last two months of our 2015 theme - Zines of the Zodiac. 

Then, starting January 15, 2016 we will begin a new adventure in the Secret Message Society. Create your very own artful zine based on the details of your life as we explore the how-to's and play with different art mediums and inspiration! It's like a year long art class shared through the 12 zines. Beginners and seasoned artists are welcome. The more the merrier. And BONUS! The centerfold pages, created by featured Secret Message Society Members, will be secret messages to cut out and leave "guerilla art style" around your town. Let's be artists - active, present, growing, learning, creating! I could not be more excited to see what 2016 holds for the Secret Message Society.

SECRET AND RARE PHOTO OF CASSANDRA

THE LUCKY 13!

my sun sign is… 

Sagittarius with a Virgo moon. 

i think astrology is

A.) A HOAX

B.) A FUN DISTRACTION

C.) ABSOLUTE DEAD-ON TRUTH

D.) A BRAND NEW ADVENTURE

E.) ANOTHER REASON TO FALL IN LOVE WITH THE STARS

(AND a mysterious intriguing glimpse into a level of the psyche that can often be ignored; but should be respected.  A fascination.)

F.) {MAKE UP YOUR OWN ANSWER}

when i think everything i believe in is all crap, i… 

Listen to my Self.  If I need adventure, I find that.  If I need coffee, I find that.  If I need to cry, I do that.  I give what I need to Me.

here is something completely ordinary about me (and why i think that is magical):

I have worn the same perfume since 8th grade.  It’s my super secret talisman of scent - grounding me to who I was, while becoming who I am, and helps me be brave enough to become who I will be. 

a favorite children’s book of mine is:

Roxaboxen, by Alice McLerran.  The way the children create their own version of a magic oasis in the desert reminds me to do the same.  I also love SkippyJon Jones: Lost in Spice, and Swimmy by Leo Lionni.

the sort of environment i like to create in is…

Entirely dependent on what I’m creating.  Sometimes, I crave the background chaos of dueling piano’s and martinis, or coffeeshop chatter with lattes.  Other occasions, I need music and solitude with a (pint-size) Mason Jar of wine, dripping condensation on my papers as Nina Simone croons to my muse.

my personal style in three words:

Evolution of comfort 

you wouldn’t believe where i am finding art lately:

It’s EVERYWHERE.  Birds carved from apples, and translucent tomato slices.  The magical patterns of time, in their simplistic complexities-how 8:34 looks the same but different every day, or how 12:21 is the same time whether it’s read forwards or backwards.

my still, soft voice tells me in a whisper…

That I am worthy (and so are you).

I knew _____ believed in my art when ...

I knew I believed in my art when I said “I think I want to be a writer.  And an artist.  Both of those things.  That’s what I want” out loud, to me and only me. 

three of my favorite stops along the way on my creative journey:

1. Mr. Kennedy’s Creative Writing Classes, in high school.  He taught me that constructive criticism can be an act of love, and that the evolution of a piece from terrible to bad to decent to alright to good is a beautiful process.

2. Road trips to Detroit with my husband.  Seeing Michigan cornfields turn into cities, and feel the pulse of its hearty but gritty electricity.  Gorgeous and blighted architecture, covered in vibrant graffiti.  Classical art co-existing with outlaw art, a beautiful dichotomy.

3. Into The Dark Night & Blushing Wild, with The Wild Mystics. These courses reignited my soul, and loosed a passion dormant for years that I had completely forgotten about.

one corner i would like to create my way out of is…

The insecure fear of failure, by charging into the arena.

the definition of secretmessage is…

An embrace we all deserve.  A love note, a secret portal.  A sign or a song.  The sacred kiss of The Universe on your forehead.  Reminders to carry on, slow down, pause, run, or reflect.  They are what we need when we need them; because we are all worth of receiving them, always. 

Cassandra Aswani wants to live in a world overflowing with adventure, wonder, and excitement.  Direct care provider by day, she moonlights as a budding artist with big dreams and a severe case of chronic wanderlust.  Right now she’s working hard behind the scenes building www.CiCisCastle.com  in hopes that it will be ready to share with you in January of 2016. When she isn’t working, creating, or writing you can find her drinking coffee, eating delectable foods, and gallivanting.  Sharing glimpses of life and her adventures, she can be found on Instagram as @cassieanne539 and Twitter as @CiCisCastle

Cassandra has designed the centerfold pages of the Secret Message Society Sagittarius Zine. CLICK HERE if you would like to receive the zine and/or find out more about becoming a member of the Secret Message Society.

I had great creative anticipation on Tuesday morning. I was starting my fourth graders off on a new project - Nutcrackers with oil pastels! I was incorporating Tchaikovsky’s music as played by the London Symphony Orchestra and reading The Nutcracker by Susan Jeffers. 

The day was going beautifully, and I was in love with the energy and the interactive imaginative conversation in the classroom. I felt most like me in those first few hours, but it is the class after lunch that really is difficult for me. I have about three classes (out of 19) that I really struggle with, and all the more if the teacher is absent that day, which in this class, she was. 

The program I teach for is set up to have the teacher in the class with me since I am not a certified teacher. Technically the substitute is supposed to stay as well, but that doesn’t always work out. In this class, he didn’t stay. Another fourth grade teacher told me she was across the hall if I needed her help. 

I handled it. We got through the 45 minutes. But it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t with grace or ease or finesse. I did not feel light and airy like a sugar plum fairy in a tutu and ballerina slippers.

I have been trying to really assess the differences between my classes. Is it the teacher? Is it the kids? Is it the time of day? Is it my attitude? 

Looking forward to creating more art like this in the Secret Message Society in 2016!

I am a teacher, yes, but I am also a student, especially in my toughest classes. I want to know what is so very different? How can the same exact project create such monumentally different results? How can I adapt? 

I studied closely the trouble spots, and one thing stood out to me, the main value for the key disrupters in this environment is sarcasm. Everything is subject to ridicule, but especially that which is beautiful. There is a really different spirit between a student who walks in exploring a classroom and a student who walks in destroying a classroom. The choice of a few of the students in this particular classroom is to receive nothing. Everything is rejection. They not only want to reject everything I am sharing, they want others to witness that rejection and buy into it. Their behavior is in an effort to pull attention away from that which is deserving of attention, and in return they gain attention though it is undeserving. 

The day after this, I was getting dressed in the morning and put on high heels and a dress. It was what I wanted to wear, until I found myself thinking about that one class after lunch the previous day. Why did I think of that then? I wondered. Two seemingly unrelated events! Digging a little deeper I realized dressing beautiful felt in stark contrast to teaching that class. A dress and high heels would not get to shine in that environment. (Remember - anything beautiful didn’t get to stay.) I was shocked how the memory of that one class made me almost second-guess my wardrobe decision. All the more shocking was the realization that I felt it would be easier to play down beauty, enjoyment and vulnerability so as to limit myself from being an easy target. I was considering playing it safe in my day by making myself more chameleon-ish. How often does this sort of behavior occur without me connecting the pieces?

While I am still assessing and figuring out how to adapt and how to address the trouble spots in each unique class (I am smart, I will figure it out.) the bigger ah-ha moment I walked away with is the knowledge that I value an environment where everyone is beckoned to shine, to excel, to rise. Anyone that creates the sort of environment where others are punished or ridiculed for their desire for happiness, beauty, curiosity, passion and success, is not an environment I will willingly remain in. I value what Ayn Rand refers to as the "upward glance." If a person’s behavior or demeanor requests me (or others I value) to dress down, back down, look down, or lay down like a door mat, I will use every ounce of my magic to return the energy (the glance) back upwards - whether that’s by removing myself from the environment, addressing the people directly or playing with the data until I can remedy the situation. (I can think of at least three different situations currently where this applies in my life.)

No one should ever fear being their most glorious self. 

*"WHAT DO YOU VALUE?" is one of the questions on The Magic School application. No coincidence there. I am on a quest to discover my values. Share with me some of yours, but if you do will you get really specific? It's easy to answer this question with loose, general answers. Give me a magnifying glass sort of answer. 

I had a situation where some black paint got spilled onto the carpet in one of my third grade classes. When it happened the students' first reactions were to blame each other. I didn't see it happen, and like so many conflicts that I have witnessed while teaching, I could see it was going to be another "he said - she said" battle to the death, with other students jumping into the drama by taking sides. It felt as though I was turning to face the commotion in slow motion because I had time to clearly think through the two reactions that were available to me: to completely flip out or to be chill. Selfishly, I didn't feel at all like having an explosive day, and so I said calmly, "I think it was an accident. I will put a chair over the paint, and I will clean it up in a bit." I also patted myself on the back for choosing to go with tempra paint at the beginning of the school year when I was ordering supplies. "This sort of paint will clean up pretty easily," I said to the students, while I looked at the puddle of very, very black paint soaking into the carpet.  

"We just ran into each other," one girl said, her voice significantly calmer. "It was an accident." She had gotten a paper towel by this time and was trying to clean up the paint, while other kids were telling her, "Stop, you're making it worse." She looked at me, and I told her it was okay. She wasn't going to hurt it. 

After the students had left I made a big dent in the mess with a couple small scrubbing sponges I had on hand. What I really wanted though was a nice big scrub brush. I went down the office to ask if there was a janitor's closet I could grab one from. Instead, they contacted the janitor himself and he said he would meet me in my classroom. 

He came in eating a bag of snacks. I was back on my hands and knees scrubbing. 

I spoke first, telling him what had happened, and asking if he had a scrub brush. 

He asked how much spilled. He asked what kind of paint it was. He asked me what color it was. He asked how it happened. He asked how much I had soaked up. He asked if water would make the paint liquify again after it dried. After answering his questions he told me not to worry about it. He told me they'd take care of it in the summer when they cleaned the carpets. 

"You can scrub all day and you're not going to make it any better. You're just going to spread it."

And to think all I wanted was a scrub brush. I could have handled it myself, I thought. 

"I like to clean up my own messes. I just wanted to know how to handle it when it happens again. If there are supplies I can use...I don't want to call you each time."

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah. Don't be telling me that." He smiled a sickening smile that suggested I would listen if I knew what was good for me. "What do you mean happen AGAIN?" He asked. "Why would it happen again?"

"Because I am an art teacher. And because we use paint. And because accidents happen."

"Just tell them to be careful," he said, grabbing his snack off the counter and walking towards the door. "And stop scrubbing. Just leave it."

"Thanks," I said, while mentally adding "scrub brush" to my "things to buy" list and making plans to definitely not ask for clean-up help in the office again. 

I've lived in the "real world" long enough to know this trickling down affect. One person puts pressure on another person to "not screw up." Then that person, who is in charge of managing a bunch of other people (in this case, little people) feels the pressure to micromanage all the other people, making sure they comply, otherwise she has to deal with person number one who doesn't believe in accidents, especially not repeat offenses. The first person has no desire to help the second person learn, he merely wants her to stop being inconvenient. 

Mary Catherine Bateson said that home is "creating an environment in which learning is possible." While I don't know if the students care about feeling at home, in my classroom, I do, and I can't feel at home if I'm trying to keep messes from happening all day. They know the school rules. They know my rules. But apart from that there is a lot of wiggle room and experimentation and excited energy and possibility. The possibility of masterpieces and the possibility of error. Both are full of learning potential.

I work my magic when I make the conscious decision to figure out how to handle "accidents" and clean up messes in a way that honors what I value. I am smart and I CAN figure that out, without the help from someone who is only interested in showing me how limiting my magic and adapting to his values would make him more comfortable. I have no desire to perpetuate a world where I fear mistakes or failure and thereby stunt my capacity to learn. 

“Do not say that you’re afraid to trust your mind because you know so little...Live and act within the limit of your knowledge and keep expanding it to the limit of your life. Redeem your mind from the hockshops of authority. Accept the fact that you are not omniscient, but playing a zombie will not give you omniscience—that your mind is fallible, but becoming mindless will not make you infallible—that an error made on your own is safer than ten truths accepted on faith, because the first leaves you the means to correct it, but the second destroys your capacity to distinguish truth from error. In place of your dream of an omniscient automaton, accept the fact that any knowledge man acquires is acquired by his own will and effort, and that that is his distinction in the universe, that is his nature, his morality, his glory. ”

I finished reading Atlas Shrugged yesterday. It's been a wonderful three year journey with both The Fountainhead and Atlas. 

When I came across this quote, I wanted to share it because I believe it goes along with what I was saying in my last post about allowing for failure because you can't know what you don't know, and when you do know you can adjust accordingly. 

I bought a bottle of wine yesterday by the title of Manifesto. I needed to document the beginning of a new chapter, a new act in this play I am writing. That word "manifesto" has been powerful to me since I read Self-Reliance by Emerson. It was the working title of my Thrashing book, "Messy Manifesto." And now I believe I am picking up where I left off, cycling back around to my life before I took a 5 year pause to figure out some personal things. Now my manifesto pulses with the will to seek and enjoy. 

I'm starting a new glue book today. A tiny little cahier notebook that I can carry along with me and the first page will have glued in it the label from this wine bottle. 

Letter to an Apprentice in The Magic School

A cheers to all the artists who are willing to face reality AND imagination. The real world AND possibility. The work AND the play of living. Hence forth, let's enjoy ourselves, shall we? And when we hit our edge, let's expand. We are people of expansion.  

Art from the Secret Message Society Scorpio Zine

I can't believe how much I am failing lately. I definitely am in the thick of it. 

I've had an interesting history with failing. Here's the basic rundown:

• Failing is bad and embarrassing, and I should be ashamed.
• My failure requires someone else's sacrifice to make it right.
• My failing is inevitable, and there is providential meaning in it meant for me.
• My failure is someone else's fault.
• Failing is my jinx or curse. 
• Failing can be avoided with proper preparation and/or positive thinking. 
• Failing means I'm growing, learning, changing and strengthening. 

My favorite "one fish two fish, red fish blue fish" from a 3rd grade student today. Project inspired by www.JohnPost.us

Today I was talking to the 3rd graders in my last class of the day. They were lined up at the door, and I was showing them how I have to squirt out paint into the trashcan in order to get the twist top lids to close. I told them it seemed like a lot of paint to waste, and maybe they could study math and science and come up with a better engineered squirt top lid, that didn't require so much paint to go in the trash. 

One boy cried out, "I'm going to be an engineer actually. I really am."

"Perfect!" I said.

I know we have a tendency to want to use light language with ourselves. At least I do. Calling something a failure may sound a little intense. But I want that strong of a word. I want it because it bears testimony to how big my successes then are. The contrast of my interaction with these kids at the end of the day vs. my interaction with the kids at the beginning of the day was very different. I failed to be the teacher I wanted to be in the morning, and I realized at the end of the day that I failed because I have never done this before. 

To step into something new can be a wonder or a horror, and really they are different sides to the same coin. 

"I've never been here before!" (How terrifying.)

"I've never been here before!" (How incredible.)

There is constant recalculating going on. My brain waves feel like popcorn popping.

"Life as an improvisatory art...You know, people think improvisation means you don’t practice, but I have a cousin who is a jazz flutist. And I know that jazz musicians practice improvisation by the hour. Improvisation is a high order of skill." 

- Mary Catherine Bateson

I am learning improvisation skills because the classroom is different every single day. The classroom is different every single hour. I am practicing to become a better teacher, person, leader, improvisationalist, artist. 

I am failing at a high rate and adapting at an equal rate. I have no clue who I will have become at the end of each day. Sometimes the failing feels frustrating and immense. In these instances I want to rid myself of "the ick" of that quickly; I try on other teacher's methods. Even in this I am failing and learning. I realize what does work for me. What doesn't work for me. 

My mind crosses out my actions each time they don't work, demanding me to move forward instead of backwards.

Okay, if not this then what?

Okay, if not this then what?

Each time I am getting closer to me, to my values, to how I would do things if I were seasoned, which I am not. 

It doesn't mean I don't know what way is best for me. In other words, it wouldn't help to have someone sit in, observe me and give me feedback. In fact, I believe that would be detrimental. I would waste valuable time trying to implement their tactics instead of following the natural course of figuring out what best suits me. 

I AM figuring it out, a day at a time. I get a fresh litmus test and a fresh log sheet every single day. This process can't be hurried, exchanged or bypassed. I get to feel the intensity of failure, yes even the pain of it. To own it as my very own. I get to feel the thrill of success. To own it as my very own. I get to grow stronger, more confident. I get to pick myself back up. I get to see my progress. I get to taste victory that I creatively worked hard for. I can't imagine anything more satisfying. This is my magic. 

Failure is a part of the artist's journey. What is your history with it?

On October 25, 2012 I started reading a novel called Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. (I know this only because I keep track of my reading on Goodreads.) I didn't get very far into it. In fact, I put it down to begin reading The Fountainhead, another novel by Ayn Rand that was written before Atlas Shrugged. At the time I had never heard of Ayn Rand. 

The book-set was gifted to me by a dear friend. At that time I had no idea I would be giving years of my life to essentially explore Ayn Rand's mind. I have seen major milestones in my life during the course of reading these books, including trips back to Ohio for funerals of grandparents, two career changes, publishing my own book, purchasing a home, shifting my worldview. I feel as though these books have been a close friend, weathering the storms with me. 

In the Summer of 2013 I finished reading The Fountainhead and made my way back to Atlas Shrugged. Slowly but surely I started reading through the pages. 

I met a barista at Starbucks one night that saw me reading Atlas Shrugged, and she shared with me that she has spent years trying to complete her first read through of that book. It's over 1000 pages, which typically wouldn't phase me (I've always been an avid reader), but with Ayn's books, I found myself reading a paragraph and then staring off into space to consider her logic and how it can translate to my life. An hour was known to fly by with me enjoying the exact same page. Periodically I see that barista and we ask each other if we've finished reading the book yet. I had grown accustomed to telling her I hadn't. 

Over the last two weeks I decided to watch the three part movie series of Atlas Shrugged. I already had a good idea of how the book was going to end because I had done so much research on Ayn Rand. Still, I did pause before watching part 3 with my husband. 

"I think I need to finish the book first," I said. 

"You haven't finished the book yet? You've been reading it for a year and a half!"

"Even longer," I said.

Two of my kids asked me, "Do you just not have the time to read, Mommy?"

"I could make the time to read," I said, realizing that I had never considered making it a goal to get the book read. I had never pictured myself telling that barista, "I finished it!"

"It took her over 10 years to write, I'm honoring the time she spent on it. It's no small commitment," I said to my family.

I went ahead and watched Part 3 of the movie, knowing full well they had cut so much of the story short. It's hard to fit a 1000 page book into a movie, even if you do have three parts. I was still left with a deep desire to finish reading the book. 

So, why haven't I finished it yet? 

I wasn't ready to finish it. I was keeping myself from it. Lately I had limited my reading time to the time I spent on a stair stepper in the gym. You can't very well get through an 1000 page book very fast that way. I don't go to they gym THAT much. Ha! The questions from my family brought the reading of this book to the forefront of my thoughts. 

Then I read a quote by Joseph Campbell which said:

"When you find an author who really grabs you, read everything he has done...Don't bother at all with the best-seller list. Just read what this one author has to give you. And then you can go read what he had read. And the world opens up in a way that is consistent with a certain point of view."

Ayn has written more than The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and I want to read more. If I finish this book, I can read more. The more I read, the more I surround myself with her beautiful point of view that has become consistent with what I am after in my living. I only have so much time here, and I want all she has to offer me!

When I first started dreaming up The Magic School, I was after a way to make great stories translate into my real life. That feeling you have while reading an engaging story? I wanted to feel the same way about my living. I am not fond of beautiful ideas that never become action - fiction that never becomes reality. What good is beauty if it's just brainwaves that don't alter my living? 

I have been saturating myself in Ayn Rand's world and taking my time because it isn't enough for it to just be a book. It is so beautiful, I want it to be a living and breathing part of my life in some concrete way. I want it to be a clear challenge, a plan, a goal. I want to have action steps and concise momentum towards personal change. What she has opened up to me is a world of next steps and fresh possibility, when life and what I had come to know it as had completely and utterly ground to a halt.

And here's the thing, that is scary and challenging and intense. She raised the bar high, and I love her for it. She thought humanity was capable of a high bar. She thought the human spirit was worthy of the upward glance. But her sort of thinking requires something from me, and I want to be worthy of the responsibility before I opt to take it on. Only I can extend to myself that worthiness. Only I can own the choice to proceed knowing what I now know. Am I ready for that?

I've been dragging my feet because I wasn't sure how to answer that. 

Now I'm sure. 

I'm ready. 

I want to prove it to myself through my living.

By October 31, I will have completed my read thru of Atlas Shrugged. I can't wait to see that barista again. 

I am sharing this piece of art because a boy at my daughter's bus stop this morning excitedly informed me, "It is Back to the Future Day!"

I’ve been repeating these words a lot to myself lately: "I’m smart. I will figure it out.” It’s a really uplifting statement to tell myself. Piggybacking off of that, the phrase “work smarter, not harder” popped into my mind last week, and then this past weekend I was given the perfect visual for just such a thought.

I sold my washer and dryer this weekend. When we bought our new home the seller left the washer and dryer for us, leaving us with two sets, the set with the new home and the set we brought with us.  I put the set we no longer needed on Craig’s List and had return emails instantly.

When the first man arrived, he pulled up with his family in a sport utility vehicle that looked like the glossy paint had been stripped off the car, a layer of matte black painted overtop and on top of that several skeletons were airbrushed. My kids told me later that the little boy in the car told them the paint job was fresh. My daughter asked me, “Do you think they paint their car for every holiday?”

Standing in my garage, where we’d stored the extra washer and dryer, the man asked me if we could plug in the dryer to make sure it would spin properly. 

“Of course,” I said. “The only problem is the outlet is clear in the back of the garage.”

He said, “That’s no problem, I’ll just move it back there.” 

He heaved and he hoed, he grunted and he manhandled that dryer to the back of the garage. I wasn’t sure how to help, so I just held the cord and moved along side him, wondering if he would throw his back out or drop my dryer. He plugged it in and started it spinning and then asked, pointing towards a metal connection on the back of the dryer, “Wait, is this a gas dryer?” 

“Yes, I believe it is. Let me check the listing. I think I listed it as such.”

I looked on my phone and sure enough, in the title of the listing I had included gas dryer. I was relieved I had not let that important detail out of the ad. 

I showed it to him. “Oh,” he said, disappointed, “We don’t need a gas dryer.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling myself wanting to apologize for the awkwardness of the moment, but choosing instead to hold the pause. 

“Do you want me to move the dryer back?” He asked. 

“Yes,” I said.

He muscled it back to the front corner of my garage, leaning dangerously far back on his squatted legs in order to balance out the weight. “Thanks anyway,” he said, gathering up his son who was running through our yard with my kids.

I contacted the next person who had emailed me. He came the following day. 

The interaction started very similarly, that is, if you replace skull mobile with white truck. 

The man saw the washer and dryer and asked me if we could plug in the dryer to make sure it would spin properly. 

“Of course,” I said. “The only problem is the outlet is clear in the back of the garage.”

My wheels were already spinning, because judging by this gentleman’s stature, I wasn’t sure he could manage the heavy lifting of the man before him. 

Then the man said, “Do you have an extension cord?”

“I do!” I said.

We plugged it in, the dryer spun and the man was happy and ready to load the washer and dryer. He unloaded a dolly from his truck, slid the lip of it underneath the dryer and then proceeded to tell me exactly how I could help. 

“Just help me tilt the dryer back onto the dolly, please.”

I did, and he then wheeled it out to his truck bed. He angled the dryer in such a way that he could put two corners on the truck bed, then he pushed the rest of it on, and I helped him slide it back. Easy. 

The washer was more difficult. When he angled it back to put two corners on the truck bed, they didn’t reach. The truck bed was up too high. The wheels in my brain started turning again. So did his. He brainstormed a couple different solutions before saying, “Wait, let me drive my truck down the driveway. If my truck isn’t on a slope the back will be lower and the washer will fit on.”

He drove forward. The back of the truck evened out and repeating the same motions as before, the washer slipped right in. Easy. 

I told the man he was a good problem solver. Judging by the two of us, I never would have dreamed we could put a heavy washer and a dryer into the back of a truck. He told me, “I am an engineer. This is the sort of stuff I do all day long.”

He paid me. I thanked him for the exchange, and felt happy that we would both sleep well getting what we needed and bonus: WITHOUT a twinged back. 

I only wish I could have watched him unload the washer and dryer at his destination. 

I am currently on the lookout for all sorts of ways I can work smarter, not harder. Sometimes that can be as simple as not taking on work that is not mine to do. 

I posed a question in the Secret Message Society Zine last month which was alluding to a similar topic:

Hashtags are a tool used to connect people in social circles around common interests and if you gradually shift your hashtags due to your shift in worldview, you may just find yourself surrounded by a completely different group of people. 

Over the weekend I had some time to myself one evening, and so I returned home with some Thai food and turned on the actual radio (not spotify or pandora, or google play, etc.) in my home to a classical station. I had found this radio station earlier in the week while scanning stations on my car radio. The pop station hasn't been cutting it lately. Did the music change or did I? It just isn't holding my attention.

I lit a candle and read out of two books I had just checked out of the library earlier in the day - one by O. Henry and one by Natalie Goldberg. Me and my chopsticks were at the mercy of whatever music the radio host had selected for the night, and I listened through hours of radio programming, my dog laying close beside me in the living room on his bed.

I kept thinking to myself, this is music that is big enough for me. This is music I can expand into. There is a scope here of grandeur that includes possibility and dignity and hope. I felt a lifted countenance that was more than emotion. It was something longer lasting. Something stable and resolute in the core of me. A reconfiguring of matter. A literal lifting of the chin and a softening of the corners of my mouth. The walls of my home were pushing out. The ceiling was pressing upwards. The spaces between the furniture grew vast and welcoming. My innate sense of capability was being echoed back to me and it was every bit as dramatic as life is meant to be. Score after score to honor the living, and me there, available, to bask in it. 

ISSUE 31 is here!

Scorpio Secret Message for Secret Message Society Members

Members can tiptoe into the Secret Lair for a digital download! (Email coming soon with updated password).

Art by Briana from Orange Spiral Arts

The Scorpio issue features Briana Goetzen as the centerfold artist.

And also contains contributions from these artists:

ALEXIA PETRAKOS

CHARIS STEWARD

DEB TAYLOR

ERIN PLASTER

JACK

RENEE AVARD-FURLOW

SHEENA LENGEL

I would really love to send you this zine in the mail! There are digital and snail mail options available. Read about them HERE. 

Join us for the last two months of our 2015 theme - Zines of the Zodiac. 

SECRET AND RARE INCOGNITO PHOTO OF BRIANACREATES

THE LUCKY 13!

my sun sign is… 

Scorpio

i think astrology is

A.) A HOAX

B.) A FUN DISTRACTION (that sometimes has relevance and meaning.)

C.) ABSOLUTE DEAD-ON TRUTH

D.) A BRAND NEW ADVENTURE

E.) ANOTHER REASON TO FALL IN LOVE WITH THE STARS

F.) {MAKE UP YOUR OWN ANSWER}

when i think everything i believe in is all crap, i… 

Go to the book store and look for wisdom in the Self-Help or Spirituality section. I also do a lot of writing to help move through the muck.

here is something completely ordinary about me (and why i think that is magical):

I have hazel eyes.  They appear to change color, depending upon what I am wearing.

a favorite children’s book of mine is:

Anything by Lois Ehlert.  I used to teach preschool, and I love her illustration style, along with her sense of humor.  If I had to pick one of her books, it would be Hands. 

the sort of environment i like to create in is…

a cleared off table with lots of different art supplies to choose from

my personal style in three words:

expressive, colorful, abstract

you wouldn’t believe where i am finding art lately:

Wyoming, Minnesota!  I am thrilled that a new Creative Arts Community is in the making!

my still, soft voice tells me in a whisper…

make online classes, make online classes, make online classes

I knew _____ believed in my art when ...

I knew Heather believed in my art when she kept signing up for my live workshops, offered to host a private art class in her home, and told me to charge more for my art and teaching.  Thank you, Heather! 

three of my favorite stops along the way on my creative journey:

1. Childhood time spent coloring with crayons and markers, as well as cutting up my mom's fabric scraps.

2. Art and photography classes in high school.

3. All of the amazing online classes offered by talented and encouraging people from all around the world!

one corner i would like to create my way out of is…

Financial debt 

the definition of secretmessage is…

When a little of life's mysteries are revealed through nature, a connection with another human being, the whisper of the soul, or through the process of creating art.

Briana Goetzen, MA, founder of Orange Spiral Arts, is an expressive arts coach living in the Twin Cities area of Minneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota.

As an artist, avid photographer, visual journal keeper, and deep conversation enthusiast, Briana supports women who desire to fully express themselves in mind, body, and spirit.

She helps women re-connect to the inner artist and divine inner wisdom that is inherently theirs.

Briana blogs at orangespiralarts.com, sells at orangespiralarts.etsy.com, and can found on social media as BrianaCreates:  Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest.

Briana has designed the centerfold pages of the Secret Message Society Scorpio Zine. CLICK HERE if you would like to receive the zine and/or find out more about becoming a member of the Secret Message Society.