Blog - The Glitterhood 2.0

Well, Isn't This Spiff?

Effy Wild — Mon, 20 May 2013 20:13:15 +0000

I spent the better part of my long weekend prettifying this new space, and I am really super thrilled and happy with it. It's hosted at Squarespace - a step up, in my opinion, from my self-hosted Wordpress configuration. The traffic I've been getting lately demanded an upgrade to a server that could handle it and rather than spend eleventy million dollars on a dedicated server, I went with this...

And since I knew I was going to be blowing up my NING site come September instead of dealing with the huge increase in price + a design I can't stand, I figured I'd host everything I'd host over there here in this lovely, easy to navigate, clean, perfect spot.

So! Welcome to my little corner of Ye Olde Interwebs!

The first thing I would love you to note is that while lots of what will be hosted here will be completely free, some of it will require a password. For example, I have a free bookbinding tutorial (many videos, lots of step by step assistance) up on a password protected page. To get access, all you have to do is join us in the Facebook Group. The password and url to the class is pinned to the top of the site.

In future, lots of things will be released for the newsletter folks, too, so if you're not already subscribed, you might want to do that now by clicking here.

In Other News

I spent some time today putting together a gallery of a lot of the work I did during Book Of Days Session One in 2013. It was awesome to see how prolific I'd been, how much I still enjoyed looking at the work I'd done, and how fun it was to trip down memory lane. There will be lots of galleries popping up on the site, so I created a page especially for them, and you can find that here.

Breakthroughs & Massive Sketchbooks

Effy — Mon, 13 May 2013 14:00:12 +0000

Whoops! Some of you got a little bonus in your e-mail this morning when I accidentally posted a lesson on Pathworking that was written for Moonshine here on my blog. Consider it a present for being kind enough to actually sign up to get this blog emailed to you. :) The post has been removed, but if you were intrigued by the lesson (a walkthrough of what a typical pathworking with me is like), you can get more details on Moonshine here! There are over 70 of us in the class now, and it is a thing of gorgeous beauty! I hope to see you there.
I had a really good week, no doubt in part due to the excellent session I had on Friday. I went in twisty over some serious envy I was experiencing that I *didn't want to be experiencing*. It was envy over what can happen when someone's talent is recognized early and they are given support and encouragement from the get go.

I was feeling a serious lack of confidence ~ a very powerful sense of "Who do you think you are, teaching what you're teaching!" There was a litany of reasons why I should pack it in and quit doing what I do in favour of slinging coffee at a Tim Horton's.

Education was huge on that list. I don't have any training. I am a drop out. I don't know what I'm talking about. Everything I know, I learned from watching art videos (from some of the best mixed media art teachers out there) and then experimenting with what I learned...

Somehow, in the face of what I was calling 'real talent', I was a big loser.

"Tell me more about 'real talent'." L said.

Brain splodey followed (along with a few snot bubbles). I had convinced myself that real talent doesn't have to be taught. Real talent is born knowing how to draw, knowing what to do with art mediums, knowing *everything*, and then getting the education to prove it.

I came out of that session knowing that I, too, have real talent. That I have to tease it out with practice and skills building is *natural*. That my passion and dedication and practice is not something my teachers handed me, and without that passion, dedication and practice, talent doesn't amount to *anything*.

On my way home from therapy, I stopped in at Curry's Art Supply and I bought a massive sketchbook to play in. This thing is 14 x 17 inches and it is *mammoth*. The intention was to give myself space to play, experiment, hone my skills the only way they *can be honed* ~ through practice, but it was also a way of signaling to my inner artist that *I SEE HER* and she is worthy of time, space, BIG SKETCH BOOKS, glorious paint, time, nurturing, and support.

I tweaked my living room painting corner so that it was 'paint central' instead of art journaling central, thinking that limiting my mediums to the ones I really, genuinely want to master (paint!) would stretch me...

And I painted all weekend. Backgrounds. Etching. Layering. Sketching...

Because real talent needs hours of practice to back it up.

What do you think 'real talent' is?

Here are some snapshots of my progression through from background to painting this weekend. The background took about two hours of play. The portrait took about four hours. Many thanks to my painting Mama, Shiloh McCloud, from whom I derive an enormous amount of skills-building & inspiration.

May These Seeds Of Grace Feed The Birds of Your Remembrance

Effy — Sat, 11 May 2013 18:22:17 +0000

Grace. Work in progress. Acrylic in a 14 x 17 inch sketchbook

There are those threads that tug at you from your past: having felt misunderstood, having felt as though you were discarded without warning or discussion, having felt betrayed, having failed, having felt disappointed, having been a disappointment to others....

...and there are threads of forgiveness emanating towards you from that past and from you towards that past...

...and there are holdovers ~ places where it doesn't matter what you say or do, you have been cut off, cut out, banished, utterly denied your side of the story, despised, and in a way, dismembered...

And then there is the present moment when you are loved beyond measure and held up by your spiritual and artistic lineage in such a way that there is no doubt that you are on the right path.

I dance with my shadow and because I know how deeply flawed we *all are* in our gorgeous humanity, I find it easy to forgive when someone acknowledges a hurt they have caused, whether the hurt was intentional or not. It can take me a lot longer to come to a place of forgiveness when I am not given the opportunity to say what I feel or why...and especially longer when I am tossed away like used tissue or when your refusal to look at your part incites you to demonize me.

But even so, I come around to forgiveness once I've given myself enough time to feel what I really feel. Forgiveness, grace, doesn't ask your permission. It blooms with or without you. And I'm there today.

I get sucked in sometimes to thinking about what happened last year or the year before and feeling awful about the ways I outright failed or failed to understand...there is always this voice that insists I am to blame for everything that ever went wrong in my life. There is a voice that second guesses my good intentions. That's a learned behaviour that I struggle with. Old tape. It says "it doesn't matter that you tried, it matters that you failed..."

But there is a gentler voice that is being echoed back to me by certain supportive members of my tribe, and that voice says "You did your best...you *always* do your best..."

And I believe them because when I look myself in the eye and see myself, shadow and all, I know that my flaws are forgivable (as are we all) and my intentions are solid and I strive to be in integrity every moment of my life. That I fail sometimes is *human* and if I can't be forgiven by some for being *human*...well.

Well.

That's a pity. And that's a place I don't wish to dwell.

I can disentangle myself from those threads that don't serve my forward movement when I remember the ones that are shot through with the gold and green of love and forgiveness, empathy and honesty...the ones that are tugging on my heart today...

My life is full of grace.

And that's where I'm choosing to live.

Gordon Ramsey Vs. Julia Child

Effy — Fri, 10 May 2013 00:40:05 +0000

It has been a crazy long while because, true to form, I bit off more than I could chew, but I'm CRAZY HAPPY, so I'm okay with the sore jaw and the omg WHERE IS THE TIME GOING??? It's going to good purpose.

That's all I ever really need to know.

I have a gift for you.

I am neck deep in teaching Moonshine: Mixed Media Encounters With The Divine Feminine and my goddesses and I are in the trenches together, making colour wheels, talking supplies, looking to our own faces for 'data' about where our faces protrude and where they recede. You know ~ beginner stuff!

And some of our goddesses are making attempts at doing things that even MASTERS struggle with.

I wrote this for them this morning, but I wanted to share it with you, because I think this is not spoken of enough in our "EVErYTHINg IS sO SHinY" culture. I think we are all hard on ourselves to an abusive degree, and I'd like us to stop.

Read on...

Gordon Ramsey Vs. Julia Child

Lots of you have taken it upon yourselves to attempt sketching your own neutral faces, and you are expressing dismay with the results. Sketching faces from photographs is hard enough when it is a perfectly sculpted face, or a photoshopped-within-an-inch of reality face. Sketching our own faces?

Really freaking hard.

And hard not just in the skill-building sense, but in the hard-on-our-self-esteem sense. Sketching our neutral faces comes with a double whammy of omg, I suck at this stuff + omg, look at that <insert the flaws you perceive in your face> stuff. Neither is good for the budding artist within us, or the tender five year old self we all carry at the core of our adulthood.

This class is about idealized faces ~ iconic portraits. The faces we will be making are reflections of the divine feminine. There is a very important reason for this:

Idealized faces are *easier to create* than realistic faces. They are ideal for beginners. They are perfect to practice on. They are an excellent exercise in skills-building.

While I would never tell you what to do or not do in terms of your desire to learn, I would suggest that starting with realistic faces, especially photographs of ourselves, is a little like starting with gourmet cooking when we don't yet know how to turn on the stove. We've witnessed our Hell's Kitchen inspired inner critics going all Gordon Ramsey on our asses in the Facebook Group. Right? And how do you feel when you watch someone bash themselves about the head and face for sucking or having ugly features?

Like crap. Because this is tender territory. Our inner five year old's are thinking "OH NO! IF SHE'S UGLY THEN I MUST BE REALLY UGLY!" Our budding inner artists are thinking "IF SHE THINKS THAT'S CRAP, HOLY CRAP, I'M REALLY CRAP!"

Now we know:

We need a little Julia Child infusion in our group. Julia Child would never swear at us for breaking an egg. She would just move the class into omelet making with grace and humour. She would never freak out at us or swear at us for burning the filet. She'd throw her hands up and say THERE'S ALWAYS THE SALAD...

So, let's ease off on ourselves. Let's save the really hard stuff for when we've mastered the basics. Let's remember that the purview of this class is idealized and iconic portraits and if we're tempted to try advanced techniques, let's do so with a sense of fun, of play. Let's not yell at our budding inner artists for *trying*. Let's not traumatize our already tender inner five year olds with smack talk about our level of attractiveness. Let's not label our early attempts as 'failures'. Let's not label our beautiful selves as ugly.

Deal?

Before you do any more sketching, I want you to take this in. Bookmark it. Make it a habit to watch it regularly. I'm down to once a month or so, but when I first started making art, I was watching this *at least* weekly.

Watch it daily if you need to:

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

Perfectionism BLOCKS Progress

I honestly didn't expect to have to tackle this subject until later on when we began painting, but in the spirit of remaining open and flexible to the group's energy, I want to offer you the benefit of my experience:

When I first began I *sucked at everything*. I sucked like crazy. I couldn't draw what I saw (and I still can't) to save my life. I had to learn every skill I've got and then I had to practice. I knew I sucked, but I *was okay with it*. I was lucky enough to know that suckage is inevitable when you are a beginner.

If I'd expected to be perfect or even good out of the gate, I would have quit because perfectionism blocks progress. It sets us up to fail.

Because, listen: Perfect doesn't exist. Even when we measure every facial feature within an nanometer of its existence, there is going to be something *off* in our final product. And guess what? THAT'S AWESOME! Because it is in the flaws that character shines through. It is in the slight crookedness of a grin or the wonkiness of one eye that our faces achieve their humanity.

Compare, for example, a mannequin to a photograph. Mannequins are perfect. They are also creepy. They are imitations of life, and they feel like imitations.

So, forget perfect. Go for progress. Progress moves us forward. Every time you practice, you are *bound to get better*. A first attempt will suck, but it is also medal-worthy, because DUDE! YOU TRIED! And you are going to keep trying until you are HAPPY with what you produce.

Trying Is Winning

Learning to create faces that make us happy is an exercise in trying. We will produce a lot of crap, but it is COMPOST crap, not shit-on-the-bottom-of-our-shoe crap. It is the kind of crap from whence roses grow. Let us honour that. Making crap leads to making not so crappy leads to making faces we love. Trying is winning. We're all winners.

The Art Of The Reframe

If you start channeling Gordon Ramsey, try conjuring up Julia Child instead. To Gordon's "WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?" respond with "THERE'S ALWAYS THE SALAD".

Do Not Do

DO!

Try it and see if you don't find yourself easing up a little bit...or a lot.

You would not expect a five year old to master faces in one sketch. Like a five year old trying something new, you have permission to suck.Sucking leads to not sucking with time, patience, and practice. Humour and kindness.

Humour and kindness.

Love you. See you again soon. xo

P.S. Interested in Moonshine? It's still open for registration and coupon code effylove gets you $20 off.

Moonshine Giveaway! And The Winners Are!

Effy — Wed, 01 May 2013 07:47:56 +0000

Thanks so much everyone for playing along with me! I had a lot of fun watching all the 'I did it' messages come in through my inbox, and I always love the chance to give something away! The winners have already been e-mailed, but I want to post them here so you can all say "YAY! GRATZ!"

Our first winner is:

Bridget R

Our second winner is

Danielle B

and our third winner is

Cynthia T!

All winners have been notified by e-mail.

Didn't win? Alas...! But hey! You can still sign up and if you use coupon code effylove you'll get $20 off. Click here for details!

Registration will remain open until June 15th.

Moonshine GIVEAWAY

Effy — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 10:30:10 +0000

UPDATE: Some of you are getting an error messages when you try to comment. I have NO IDEA why that's happening! If this happens to you, please e-mail me at effy@effywild.com and let me know you DID IT and I will add you to the drawing manually.

Hello, my lovely peeps!! I am so excited about my upcoming e-course, Moonshine Summer ~ a seasonally driven spiritual painting and art journaling PARTY of EPIC PROPORTIONS, that I have decided to giveaway THREE SEATS in the session that starts May 1st.

HOW TO ENTER

First: Check out the workshop so you know it's right for you.

Second: Grab this link: http://effywild.com/moonshine

Post it on Facebook, Twitter, or your blog and then (VERY IMPORTANT) come back here to say "I DID IT" Please include your e-mail when you comment (in the box provided) so I know how to reach you.

Third: Hang tight until I announce the three winners!

Did you already purchase a seat? No worries! If you win, you'll get an hour with me on Skype to talk about ANYTHING YOU WANT + you can give your seat to a friend who may not have otherwise been able to join in!

CONTEST CLOSES APRIL 30th

Winners will be announced on May 1st!

*KERMIT FLAIL + SNOOPY DANCE OF JOY!*

Bloglovin

Effy — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 09:02:38 +0000

With the impending discontinuation of Google Reader (cries), I am moving to Bloglovin as my primary blog reader, and I've set up an account there so you can follow me there, too! Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Art Journaling as The Great Work, Moonshine, and More {VIDEO!}

Effy — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:13:37 +0000

I mentioned last week that art journaling isn't getting me where I need to go right now in terms of working out the stuff I need to work out, and I bet some of you thought that meant that maybe I wasn't going to art journal as part of my therapeutic process anymore. Hah! I couldn't stop art journaling if I tried. You know why? I'm addicted. It's a positive addiction (a la Danielle LaPorte), though, so there's ONE thing I won't need to recover from. *Gigglesnort*

I worked on the whole 'wanting to be embodied' thing in my art journal and this is what I ended up with:

In a very unusual departure for me, I drew it all *first* and then 'coloured it in'. It was fun ~ like, hella fun. But it was also really therapeutic because here's the thing: The torso? That weird green blob of ill-defined that I rescued by plunking the word "Embodied" into it in big fat white letters? That tells a story. It tells the story of how I feel about my body. It's just sorta hanging there off my neck like something I drag around. It's a bit shapeless ~ especially considering the way I dress it. It 'doesn't belong' in the sense that the colour I chose was *totally wrong* for the painting.

In other words, it perfectly expressed where I'm at with this desire to be embodied.

The length of the neck, the slightly sad look on her face, the weird, unreal colours...

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And if I hadn't started keeping a Book Of Days back in December 2011, I would not even *know* that I wanted to stop living in my head and start living in my body.

***

I did a live show this past Saturday. I worked on fixing a face. I'd sketched something while watching Hemlock Grove (omglove) and then I went and wrecked it with crosshatching. Instead of trashing it, I decided to attempt to rescue it. Live. Because I'm crazy like that. And because I love y'all, I went ahead and created a timelapse version.

Supplies Used: Gesso, paint, acrylic glazing medium, copic markers, black waterproof fine liner.

Fun, right?

***

In Other News

I have a new class that's open for registration. It's called MOONSHINE and I would be thrilled to see you there. Check out all the details here.

You can also sign up for Sweetlings MINI May now as well.

Smooches!

Effy

Hitting The Self-Help Wall

Effy — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 19:48:19 +0000

Oh mer gerd, have I been busy. I mean, busy of the "my life is unmanageable" variety. The "How long has it been since I showered" variety. The "slurping ramen while working is all I have time for" variety. And this is not glorious. This is the opposite of glorious. This is full on manic panic. This is omgdoom if I don't do ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW.

Which is stupid, because there's nothing that urgent that I can't shower/eat/stop spinning my brain meats for a few minutes. Nothing at all. I don't have to launch that thing I want to launch on May 1st. I don't have to work this hard. I just don't. And yet, I feel driven to work this hard. Why? Well, as we say in my wee emo mastermind group, BECAUSE REASONS!

"Reasons" being the things that either go without saying or the things we don't want to talk about/are in denial about.

In my case, it's the latter.

What am I running from? (Because all this OMGDOALLTHETHINGSNOW thing? It's about running.)

I'm running from feeling anything except in the most controlled context possible. I'm running from turning around and looking at what's chasing me, which is all the stuff I haven't given myself the time or opportunity to grieve.

It was great to quit smoking except I ramped up my drinking. It was great to quit drinking except it ramped up my anxiety to the point where I am now sliding swiftly and inexorably into workaholism.

Go, me!

I wish you could see me right now, because as I typed 'Go, me!', I was actually giggling. There is no shame in these admissions for me (that I'm aware of, at least). This is funny to me, because dude. I've got this. I have got this. But this time, I know for a fact that I've hit a wall that self-help isn't going to get me through. I've been art journaling my booty off, and I've been talking the manfingy into a coma and I've writing three long hand FOLIO sized pages every morning and MORE, and I'm not getting where all that usually gets me when I'm working through stuff.

I'm stuck. I've gone as far as I can go on my own. I need help.

There are some folks out there that would rather *die* than admit what I just admitted there. And I've known some who *almost died* of not admitting it, those that are the walking dead because they refuse to admit it, and in one horrible, very personal case, I know of one person who *did die* because she could not admit it.

I am shameless about admitting it. S.H.A.M.E.L.E.S.S.

Completely.

Am I worried that there are people out there who are unkind enough to judge me as weak because I am confessing to something most people would rather not confess? Yes. I'm worried, but only in a small, niggling sort of way that I find manageable. Am I slightly anxious about worrying my tribe? Yes. Definitely that, because I hate it when you worry about me. I want you to believe in me, to know that I've got this, to trust me to do what I need to do to get from here (stuck) to there (thriving like the glitter flinging force of nature that you know me to be).

I've got this. I'm already in touch with someone I'll be working with twice a week (virtually) and I'm interviewing a local art therapist next week so I have someone I can work with in person if I feel I need it.

Working on what, Effy?

I want to be embodied. I want to feed myself properly. I want to move my body more. I want to feel my feelings WITHOUT descending into a panic attack or despair, or rationalizing them into submission. I want to do my work in the world out of love and not out of a need to escape or out of fear of what might happen if I don't. I want to find it *easy* to eat breakfast. I want to find it *easy* to do the things I know are *good for me*.

I want to thrive.

That's it. It sounds simple, I know. I can hear some of you saying "Then, do that, Effy!"

I would if I could.

But I can't. Despite my very best intentions and my *wanting* to and my planning to and my lists the length of my arm of the self-care I 'deserve' and the things I should be doing for myself, I continue to exist as though my head is detached from my body.

I am almost never in my body. And this isn't urgent and I could honestly spend the rest of my life in this state of disembodied and be pretty much okay, but okay isn't good enough for me. It just isn't. Because if I'm just okay then all I'm modelling for you is how to be just okay. And that's not okay.

I talk self-love. I talk self-care. I talk personal empowerment and pleasure as a right and authenticity, and I mean all those things with every bone in my glitter encrusted body, but I *am struggling to live it*.

Which doesn't disqualify me from demonstrating it, so long as we're clear: *I am struggling to live it*. I don't want to struggle to live it anymore. I want to model full-bodied, full-throated *thriving*.

So I'm going to see someone who can help me do that. Maybe two someones. We'll see.

And you know what? I believe with all my heart that I will learn to align what I know to be true with how I live.

***

Courtenay asked me during our first hour together to think about what my life would be like if I actually loved myself the way I think I love myself.

Simple question, right?

And the answer is pretty simple. I would *take care of myself* as though I were *worthy of care*. I wouldn't drink a pot of coffee with cream and sugar in lieu of breakfast. I wouldn't do nothing but work, work, work. I wouldn't deprive myself of long walks or face-to-face friendships or a structure that facilitates my well-being. I would *care for myself*.

So, that's what I'mma learn how to do.

Effy

The Courage To Fail Spectacularly

Effy — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 16:17:13 +0000

There is something about doing a live show that simultaneously terrifies and delights me. It is *instant feedback*. There is no doubt what people are thinking about what you're doing because they are *right there* and they *tell you*.

I spent four hours on Ustream on Saturday, demonstrating doodling in paint on a Gelli plate to create painted papers to use in art journal spreads, acrylic glazing medium mixed with cheap paint for more translucent effect and increased blend-ability, and then I went all in and created a painting from blank to finished.

It was fucking awesome, and if you make it through to the end of this post, I'll have the time lapsed version of the face painting portion for you.

***

It takes guts to do live shows. That's where the terrified part comes in. There is every chance that I will fail spectacularly while I'm streaming live. But the awesome thing about failing spectacularly while streaming live is you get to demonstrate the 'moving through' part that we could all stand to see. When I watch a teacher fuck it up and then FIX IT, I feel empowered, and from what I hear, my folks feel similarly inspired when they watch me fuck it up and then fix it.

So, this post is part tooting my own horn and part gratitude for those artists who are willing to fail spectacularly while we all watch. You empower us all. Thank you.

***

Failing spectacularly is a part of life. There is no achievement I know of that wasn't attended by a few awesome face plants along the way. No one gets to be in a great place in their business or life without lots of oopsies and whoopsies and wrong turns and course corrections. I know this to be true for me. I don't know about you, but failure wasn't an option when I was a child, and that led to a real terror of screwing something up ~ so much so that I would refuse to try in order to avoid failing.

Thankfully, I grew out of that and I am infinitely willing to fail (even though I remain terrified as ever) because I know no good thing happens without failure as part of the process. The trick is to *never let failure stop you ever.* Let it teach you. Let it redirect you. Do not let it stop you.

Failure can be your best friend. It is a clear indicator that there is a skill you need to learn or a practice you need to undertake if you're going to get where you want to go. It feels awful ~ I know it does ~ but once you're done tucking into a carton of Haagen Daas, try again. Keep trying.

The only way through failing at anything it is *through*.

***

You read all the way through? You rock my poptarts! Thank you! Here's a video. xo

P.S. Sweetlings MINI is still available for registration and all the course content is just waiting for you to dive in. I'd love it if you'd join me! Use coupon code glitter for $10 off.

Moleskine Love and Other Musings.

Effy — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 09:09:13 +0000

Hello, lovely. It's been awhile, and I know I kind of left you all hanging (unless you're my Facebook friend, in which case you've been getting an earful of me regularly). I don't want to be all anti-climatic, but the prodigal husband & I reunited after a ten day separation and made the decision to move forward with our mission, ~~which is to drive one another batshit~~ which is to love one another unconditionally while we help one another unpack our own individual sets of baggage. It's been a good few days for us and after a lot of intense anxiety, I am finally settling into feeling a sense of safety again. Not permanence. Not certainty. But safety. In the meantime, I have gone at my journaling practice with a renewed sense of gusto because that shit works to keep me on top of my own stuff and I need to be on top of my own stuff right now. I need to be doing the regular sifting of what's mine and what's his and what's important and what can be shelved until later.

My journaling practice is being informed (hugely and deliciously) by Susannah Conway's "Journal Your Life" which I treated myself to for Spring Equinox. It is the most fun I've ever had in a non-art course, and I have been having stationarygasms and ephiphanygasms and lots of self-inquirygasms of late. I begin my days by writing long, long entries in a Moleskine Folio. I end the day writing love notes to my life in a little Moley I keep in my bedside table. I also bought myself a huge teal binder and the DayTimer Two Page A Day system, which makes me feel all grown up and official (even if I do use coloured pens in it). I plan now. I keep a business diary. I muse on what's working and what isn't and how to do it better and what I'm doing right.

It's the little things.

The renewed journaling has been a huge boon. I am a capitol J journaler and have been doing this meeting myself on the page thing since my late teens. I haven't kept any of my journals ~ something about being terrified my kids will read them after I'm dead ~ which kind of sucks, but I plan to keep them from here on out. Watching Susannah show & tell her old diaries lit me up. I want that stack of life to leave behind as a kind of legacy. My kids can take them or leave them after I'm gone. I'm not afraid to be revealed through the pages of my journal anymore.

If I learned anything about anything over this past few weeks, it's that being as honest as possible in all my affairs is absolutely crucial. I'm super good at being honest with people I love. SUPER good. But sometimes life gets so freaking scary that I stop being honest with myself, and the first hint of that is that I start skimping on the journaling.I start writing "I'm too busy for this" a lot, or scribbling down the barest hint of what's actually happening. I don't delve. I don't breathe into the page. It's one of those red flags, a 'danger danger' warning that I am learning to heed well.

Since I started the class, I spend more time writing, pen to page, than I have in *years*, and you know something? Instead of having less time, I seem to have more. It seems that this journaling thing means I am a little more efficient. I can sort through what really matters, what actually needs doing, and leave the rest shelved.

It's great to be back in the Moley. Thanks, Susannah, for the inspiration.

***

This whole relationship trauma thing brought into sharp focus how important my business is to me right now. It is the only thing in my life that is wholly mine and I have been all head down in the trenches stressing myself out about making it work so I can rest assured that if something catastrophic happens, I will be okay.

My business is pissed at me about it. She told me this morning (in my journal, natch) that she's tired of me flailing about and doing everything in fear. She wants passion and fun and candles lit and lip gloss. She wants the studio to be sacred space and exciting, and she wants a lovers touch and a lot of care instead of the flogging I've been giving her.

She's crying foul about morale and how impossible it is to make beautiful, abundant things out of fear.

I signed on to Teach Now (thank you Danielle) and I'm very excited about the possibility that learning how to better care for my teacher self and my students will make a huge difference. This class has me bouncing (and bouncing is good). I am ready to get serious (with glitter, of course) and take this whole thing to the next level. I know that if I keep doing what I'm doing, I will go 'splodey. I don't live. I work. I just work. All. The time. And that needs to stop ~ not because I have an investment in balance, but because working to work sucks ass. I want to work AND live and have both be juicy, exciting, passion-inspired endeavours. I think Teach Now is going to help me with that. {aff link}

And I think that's it for me for now. I will keep you posted as ever. :)

Effy

P.S. Sweetlings MINI is making a lot of people very, very happy. Maybe you'll enjoy it too? Click here for deets. Use coupon code glitter and get $10 off.

Kermit Flail! Sweetlings is LIVE

Effy — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 09:22:31 +0000

After years of paper doll making, I have finally found my own favourite way of making them, shading them, dressing them, and embellishing them, and I'm really excited to share all that with you in this MINI workshop.

This workshop is comprised of six lessons that cover: selecting a sentiment, letting the sentiment lead you to make good choices for your piece, drawing the doll, shading the face/skin, creating the clothing, embellishing the painting, and finishing touches. There is enough content in this class to keep you busy for an entire week (if not more). Video time totals over 220 minutes (that's over 3.5 hours) plus templates, bonus videos (over an hour's worth), PDFs and everything is yours to keep.

Want more information? CLICK CLICK!! (P.S. It's only $29!)

The Thaw

Effy — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 10:26:37 +0000

The snow in the backyard is melting furiously. Everything sounds like water happening. The dogs come in soaked and muddy. The air has the barest hint of caress in it where before it was all fang. The radio says 'more snow' and 'lower temperatures' but it's okay. I can take it because the thaw has begun and once it begins the two steps forward, three steps back dance it does with winter is certainly almost over. It's the certainty that makes it bearable. Knowing anything for certain has a way of soothing me, easing me in. Uncertainty feels like anticipating a possible fall into frigid waters. The whole body braces in a way that almost hurts. Knowing the water is cold, well, that's almost exciting, right? That gets the blood up and the adrenaline pumping.

Not that you'd ever catch me launching myself into frigid waters. I'm a toe-dipper, an easer into-er.

But this is a metaphor for certainty vs. uncertainty so I'm going to stop with the semantics and get to the point.

The Prodigal Husband has been here since Sunday night. We've been talking a lot, snuggling a lot, going for long drives, recovering. We're both continually exhausted. We sport dark circles under our eyes, and a hollow, flayed open look that scares me a little bit. But we're in the thaw. We're in the two steps forward three steps back place. There's certainty in it.

So I can deal.

***

I'm in a weird in between place. There is the self that's all determined to work hard and make my dreams come true, and then there's the self that wants to sit on the couch all evening and play World Of Warcraft. I think the former has scarcity terror along with ambition, and the latter is exhausted and needs the mental unhooking that escapist gaming can bring.

I want to find the third road between fear and numbness, so that's my focus today as I prepare to launch myself wholeheartedly into work.

The third road is a road where I can know all I know about uncertainty and nod at it while also turning aside to focus on the certainty at hand:

My work gets me somewhere. It is needful. It fills me with pride and a sense of purpose. That's certain. There is a coming back together happening, a waltz of sorts, a promise of things working out, of things being better. That's certain. Spring is here. It is happening before my eyes. The snow is melting. The ice is rotting. Tender buds are making their way back into the world and they will bloom.

***

I am in danger here of falling back into complacency. That's the battle before me now. In the uncertainty, I'm vigilant, and that feels awful, but moves me forward. In the relief of certainty, I tend to go soft ~ very soft. I tend to let everything go, relax my grip, settle in. I don't want to do that. I want to stay primed. I want to keep painting, keep writing, keep snapping photos of my world, keep myself mindful of where I'm at. I don't want the 'working on it' thing to preempt the 'working on me' thing. I don't want this to be a this or that proposition.

I want to put myself firmly front and center in my list of priorities. I want to be in my life. I have a habit of orbiting others, of being their satellite, of everything starting and beginning with where they're at. I want to be in it, to really be where I'm at.

Today will be about that.

***

Hey, how are you? You've been absolutely lovely. Thank you.

Effy

When I'm Alone

Effy — Sun, 24 Mar 2013 09:22:59 +0000

March 24, 2013

I worked on this painting some more last night and she's emerging. Like me.(acrylic on canvas, in progress, "Breast Of The Amazon")

I've been separated for a week now, and I'm learning some things about who I am when I'm alone.

I eat like crap when I'm alone.

I paint way more when I'm alone.

The space around me becomes much more important ~ the scents, the sights, the sounds. I become hyper focused on creating flow. I want everything in it's place. I find myself wanting to throw everything out, put a bedroll on the floor in the bedroom and a bunch of wildly colourful pillows on the floor in the living room.

I want a wok when I'm alone. I imagine I'd cook for myself more readily if I had a wok.

There is something on at all times ~ a movie I'm half watching or music I'm half listening to. When it's too quiet, my brain goes into overdrive so I use entertainment as a kind of wall of white noise.

I work more erratically, yet get more done.

I'm way more anxious.

I write *a lot more* when I'm alone.

I read more.

I spend way more time connected to the Internet but I am also way less interested in socializing.

I do more self-care.

I lean hard on the love and affection (infinite, lavish) of my dogs.

I spend more time thinking about what I want to accomplish.

***

There's a lot on this list I'd like to keep when we come back together. I want to keep 'painting more' (because, dude! I can paint!) and 'working more erratically' (it's exciting and more desire led this way) and 'more self-care' and more 'thinking about what I want to accomplish'. I'd like to de-clutter some but not radically.

I want to release the wall of noise by, perhaps, becoming more mindful of what I choose to fill my ears with. I'd like to release the Internet as distraction from my innards. I'd like to release the crappy eating. I'd like to release the feeling of anxiety that rises after a few hours of utterly alone.

***

No matter what happens, though, good will come of this. I know this because this is how I work. I am the queen of the reframe. I can take shit and make roses. I can find bliss among ruins. I can turn heartache into poetry and rage into paint on canvas. I can dig around in my own dirt and find seeds of dreams I never even knew existed.

Some of my people don't know this about me yet, so when they see the emo or angry post or the black and white photograph, they panic a little. They worry. There is love behind the worry, so I don't rankle over it, but I do wish I could just be in my process without having to reassure everyone that I'm okay.

I'm okay. Okay? Okay.

I'm okay because I've learned how to make the best of the worst. I know that experience is mainly shaped out of our expectations and our perspective. I know that right thinking will always lead me home.

Home is where you are in the moment. Like everyone else, I forget that once in a while, but I have come back to remembering: Home is not the relationship or the house I'm living in. Home is right here in my solar plexus. Home is mindfulness. Home is being in it. Home is right here, right now.

If I could bottle and sell anything about this whole experience, it would be the ability to look for the tender roots of things in the muck. It would be the ability to eschew 'rising above' for 'digging in'. It would be the certain knowledge that everything changes and this too shall pass and there is *always* treasure in it. Always. Whatever it is.

Alone is my shovel. Dig?

*Giggles*

Lates, tates,

Effy

P.S. The Manfingy is coming over this evening and we're spending some time together. Your Love Letter is going out tomorrow some time around three p,m. I am back to work as usual tomorrow, too, and that will mean new content next week. Teach Now opens for registration in April (I am excited! Also, aff love!). My bonus lesson for Life Book 2013 goes live in May. I'm working on a face immersion class (goddesses! Yum!). And I'm okay. <3

Amazon

Effy — Sat, 23 Mar 2013 13:41:06 +0000

March 23, 2013

This is today. Fierce. Strong. The breast of the Amazon, bared. The truth, bloody but true, and in the end that's what matters.

You feel it. You know it. It isn't quite the same as acceptance but it will do for now.

***

People are telling me that my personal meanderings have value and I'm starting to believe them. When I think of the authors I love, I think of those who have dared to bare and beat the breast on paper ~ Jeanette Winterson, Anne Lamott, Michael Ondaatje, Mary Oliver (fiction, non-fiction, fiction and poetry, poetry) ~ and I know how eagerly I gobble up every word.

I love to be allowed in behind the curtain.

And I guess that's what I do, too.

Opens the curtains a little wider...

My Facebook friends know that last night was brutal. Self-soothing is not a trick I am adept at yet, and it is typical of the addict to be all kinds of fucked up around 'how to deal'. I usually deal by drinking myself into a maudlin puddle of snotty goo in the lap of my beloved, who could always be counted on to stroke my hair, hand me tissues, and whisper 'there there' like any excellent codependent would.

My options have expanded since I started attending meetings and reading recovery literature, but the default position is to freak the fuck out. The frustration I feel when faced with the need for soothing and the absence of all my usual ways of doing so is immense. It reminds me of a baby's frustration when they are hungry or hurting and can't express themselves except through high pitched, ear piercing screams.

I *almost* went there last night. To the scream-y, angry, fuck you very much place. To the calling dial-a-bottle place. To the begging and pleading place.

I didn't.

I painted instead.

I'm counting this among my Amazonian victories.

***

It looks new around here, eh? I wanted to wash my hands of the internal battle between writer and artist and claim both in the blog. I took the painting (which is still in progress) and I made it into blog jewels. They make me happy, and though I might hate it tomorrow, I love it today and today is all I've got.

Speaking of today...

I was thinking last night that what really gets me into trouble is the past or future. If I'm in the past, I'm in remorse or regret or anger or resentment. If I'm in the future, I'm in anxiety. There is no good way to be in either. It is only when I take that deep centering breath, say my drunkard's prayer and remember to be here now that I feel any kind of peace at all.

Because in this now right here, the coffee is fresh and creamy. The house is toasty warm. There is new paint on old canvas and an afternoon to do with as I please. There are meetings to attend if I want them, and phone numbers to dial if I want them, food in the fridge, puppies to snuggle, and Manfingy and I still say "I love you" when we hang up the phone.

All things considered, right now, right here, is a damned lot better than I give it credit for.

I just need to stay put.

Stays put...

Noticing

Effy — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 10:24:35 +0000

March 22, 2013

More gray weather and the space heaters are both going full blast. I woke up to melted snow all over the living room ~ the kidlet came over after his night shift to walk the dogs for me, and they tracked in a lot of snow. Little puppy foot prints everywhere. Big manchild foot prints. It made me laugh. I'm not sure why.

When I thought about what to shoot today for my little experiment in images and words, I noticed the lone fallen carnation bud beside this jar of flowers. It felt right, felt like there was a poem in it and though I'm not in poem writing space these days, I am in noticing space.

Noticing how comforting it is to have the dogs curled up into furry full stops pressed up against my spine at night. Noticing how pissed off I get when I look outside at supposed spring. Noticing the bee hive inside my head, the buzzing thoughts, the divergent desires whiz banging up against honey comb of my gray matter.

My people are telling me to write a book, and I hear them. I just wonder what I'd write *about*. I am very adept at digging around in my own dirt on paper, but plot? Characters? Story arc?

I suck at those.

I'm letting that thought simmer. It's on my bucket list. I want to, I'm just not sure I have the skill or the will to acquire it. I know I can write extemporaneously ~ sit down, let the thoughts flow ~ and I know that more often than not whatever I've written has something to it. That kind of writing works great for creative personal blogging but not so much for a book. Who wants to read a book full of personal meanderings? What would be the point?

Noticing that the dream of being a writer (because that was the dream pretty much my whole life before life kicked the crap out of it) is rising up a little here and there...

Noticing that I have no aversion to writing genre fiction ~ in fact, I wish I *could* write genre fiction. A little vampire werewolf erotica. Ghost stories with wicked twists.

Not now though. Maybe soon.

***

No art got made this week despite my best intentions.

***

Two chats today ~ one at noon and one at six. Sometime between the two, I want to make new graphics for my blog (and hub) and that means starting with art. It's a good excuse to trod up to the studio and make something happen.

***

Pork chops for dinner.

***

That's all I've got.

Where There's Life

Effy — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 00:57:35 +0000

March 21, 2013

There are eggs for the pan and butter for the toast. The coffee is hazelnut cream infused and hot and creamy and fresh and bold. The dogs are limp little puddles of sleeping fur. The crows fly over and back again and I see them from every window in the house.

Spring sprang yesterday and the Equinox is writing checks her body can't cash just yet, but tomorrow or the day after, the snow will begin to melt and the ice to rot and life will unveil itself the way it always does.

Where there's life there's hope.

***

I have a weekend ahead of me that is mine alone, and I'm easing into it. Starting it now. I'm wearing S's slippers and a big, shapeless sweater. My hair looks good for once, but I had nothing to do with it. It's getting long enough that it falls into place when I run my hands through it, which is often. I'm a fiddler.

There's a lot happening around me ~ people I care about struggling, business stuff looming, a lot of 'other people's problems' that my empathy bone is tuned to, but my boundaries bone is taking charge, closing the curtains, turning off the phone, letting the email go unanswered for now.

Everything is only ever for now. Change is the only certainty I've got.

***

It's quiet in here and I like it. I am at peace. I rose up out of purgatory yesterday and found myself in a meadow ~ the very center of a meadow ~ and all around me, I see paths leading off into the woods. This one goes towards a fixing what's broken. This one goes towards giving up and moving on. This one goes towards a Buddhist nunnery. This one goes towards becoming a crazy dog lady with a cigarette hanging off her lip and curlers in her hair. This one goes towards hopping a Greyhound with a satchel of art supplies and couch surfing all over the continent on a wing and a prayer. This one goes to bed for the rest of the day. This one paints something glorious. This one puts on make up. This one fries eggs and butters toast and knows that where there's life there's hope.

***

That's the prose poem version. The 'cut to the chase' version is that my separation from S is probably temporary. He needs to wander off and do something about his stuff. He gets that his stuff is his stuff. He loves me (I believe this) but he doesn't know how to be in a loving, intimate relationship with someone without managing their feelings and martyring himself to all the 'needs' he projects upon them. This is his old tape coming up, and he thought for a second there that the only way out was all out. It may still be true that for him, the only way out is all the way out. But for now, he's not certain that's true, and I'm good with letting him figure it out.

Meanwhile, I've got options to consider and changes of my own to implement and stuff of my own to work and that's where my focus is.

Fact: I want to be financially independent so that if this ever happens again, I won't have survival fears on top of a broken heart.

Fact: I want to travel. I want to visit places and people that mean something to me. I want to have more than this every night on the couch with Ambivalent Man life that I've inadvertently built for myself.

Fact: I want to grow my business so that it is soul-nourishing as well as life sustaining.

Fact: I can do all of the above. Absolutely. No question. With or without him, I can have the life I want.

I'd prefer to have it with him.

That ain't need. That's love.

***

The eggs were awesome, by the way. I had them with buttered dark rye and marmalade. The coffee is ambrosia.

Where there's life there's hope.

To Everything, Turn.

Effy — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 11:31:37 +0000

I've got one foot in the desire to turn away from everything, and another in the desire to turn towards everything. It's Ostara. Spring Equinox. I had planned to be neck deep in pysanky today, with all my week's work done and candles lit and spring lamb in the oven to celebrate.

I am willing to let things be what they are. Coffee & tear stained. All too quiet. Whimpering, unsettled dogs. Dust settling on canvas (for now). Journals open and waiting for spilling. The hooks on the back of the bedroom door bare as fingers without rings. The bed too big. The dishes sparkling in the rack because I know if I let them go, even a day, I will let them go for a week, a month, a year...

I opened the mail today to find this gorgeous pendant, sent to me by one of my Glitter Girls.

It was perfectly timed, as are most Godwinks.

The key, the reminder to remain open (Open is my chosen word for 2013 ~ another Godwink, since I had no idea how much I'd need this word when I chose it...), the 'dog tag' feel of it is just right for this moment.

Bed head, braless, barefoot, stripped down like Inanna descending into the underworld to hang by a hook and then be reborn.

I let myself think about Spring and Persephone and her abduction and I try to relate, try to turn toward the hope our myths always, inevitably bring us, but then, I laugh because I am way too old for this.

To everything, turn.

***

My son, James, spent the evening with me yesterday. I made us chicken breasts with tarragon and pepper with leftover roasted vegetables. I hadn't eaten all day, so my body lit up like fireworks when the food hit my system. It was pure pleasure, both to serve someone I love so much by preparing good food, and serving myself with the same.

We watched Game Of Thrones Season II and talked about Sophism and the nature of God and whether or not Consciousness has its seat in the brain or if the opposite might be true ~ that we are not bodies with consciousness, but Consciousness with bodies. I threw around words like software (consciousness) and hardware (the body/brain) and it felt good to be thinking about something deep and unknowable and meaty as a Zen koan.

Sleep was a bitch, but I managed four good, solid hours and when the dogs started whining, I let them be my reason to move through.

I turned toward the day. I made art. My blipfoto account is a new companion where I post photographs accompanied by words and it feels like a pared down art journal. Ease. Point and click, spill through fingertips into screen of light, record, redeem, make meaning...maybe someday, I tell myself, I will look at all this, read all this, and it will all make perfect sense. Retrospect will shed light on all the signs along the way that said "You are headed in exactly the right direction" and I will find my faith in the universe as cohort, as compadre, as being in cahoots with one Effy The Wild unshakably renewed.

***

I bought a new blog planner, installed a new theme on what will be the hub of my on line world (yes, a new domain. I'll tell you when it's up, but the blog is staying here), drank a half a pot of coffee, let the dogs out thrice...

***

The instincts want to turn away, to force hands (his, my own) and make broad, sweeping, immediate, irrevocable changes. The instincts can't abide anything purgatorial.

The being to whom I pray (the Source, Universe, Consciousness, whatever) whispers "Flight or fight is for animals, baby girl, not glitter flinging, shame busting, shadow dancing Effys. Be still. Be still. Be still."

***

My inner diva is singing Flavours of Entanglement (the whole damned album at the top of her lungs) by Alanis Morrissette.

I'm ignoring her and her demands for moratoriums.

I'm turning away from willfulness and towards Spring and waiting and uncertainty and the truth that might emerge from letting the mystery be.

Hysterical

Effy — Sun, 17 Mar 2013 03:47:30 +0000

****Language and Trigger Alert****

On April 1st, Manfingy and I would have been together nine years. I always say we've been together ten. Some days, it feels like twenty. Anyway...

He left me today.

Well, to be honest, he told me he was leaving me but that he didn't want to leave me alone because the least he could do was make sure I didn't hurt myself/drink/etc.

So I told him to get the fuck out because what a girl needs when she's been told for the bazillionth time in nine years that he is faking it and doesn't love her and needs space is SPACE OF HER OWN.

Right?

Because, srsly? The last thing I'd ever do is kill myself over a guy. EVER. I might drink (I haven't, but I am taking this sober thing one day at a time). I will smoke. (Lights one up.) I might fuck all the wrong people and misbehave and blow grocery money on shoes, but I will never kill myself over a guy.

So, I ousted him. Take your clothes. Go.

Maybe we can talk in a few days, but right now?

He is the breaker of my heart. He is the puller outter of my rug. He is not going to sit there and martyr himself on the cross of my sobbing and use that as yet another reason to loathe himself. He can go find some other reason. I'm done being it.

I am making a list of all the reasons I should be pissed at him ~ stringing me along for almost ten years, for example, playing with my trust & loyalty, picking today of all days (It's the anniversary of my sister's death by her own hand.) Picking now, of all times, when I have less than 60 days sober, less than $700 in my PayPal account, no job to speak of, a NING disaster that I'm trying to navigate, a furnace that works when it feels like, and no idea how I'm going to make it on my own.

Oh, there are promises that I won't be destitute, yadda yadda, but the truth is, I want to be completely over him NOW. Like THIS INSTANT. All ties cut. I want to move out of this godforsaken house, out of this godforsaken city...

I want to forget his face. I want to forget his name. I want to forget camping that time and the smell of fresh coffee in the morning and the little acts of what I *thought* were love, but what, it turns out, were Effy Handling, emo management, not love at all, not goodness at all, but a selfish need to do damage control ~ not because I'm difficult, he says, but because he can't stand it when I'm disappointed so he spends his life managing my feelings...

The clincher: He doesn't like living with me.

So. This is my life right now. Real as it gets.

It's St. Patrick's day and there will be no green beer for me, no sir, and my heart is a pile of crushed goo that just took in (for real this time, really believing it this time) the truth that the dude tried to love me but can't. The guy I fucking ADORE, whose flaws I saw and could rattle of like a litany, but who had my loyalty and my best efforts and my fantastic cooking and my LOVE...isn't in love with me and it isn't me, it's him (yadda yadda) and he just needs space (yadda yadda) and he wants to get better but he can't do it while we are together, etc. etc.

Fuck.

And I miss my fucking sister because if she were here, she'd tell me to fuck it and take me out to some after hours club and get me drunk and insist I sleep with some hot guy in a (misguided, but devilishly fun) attempt to get over it.

So, that's that. I want to be pissed off, tanked up, and in the arms of someone who likes me, let alone loves me.

But I can't sustain it. I try to muster pissed off and it turns into sobbing and resisting the urge to text the fucker and tell him to get his lame ass home, that it's time to man up and deal with his shadow and do some Imago therapy and get with the goddamned program. I tell myself that I can drink now because FUCK HIM, but I won't because FUCK HIM and also I don't want to be that girl who lets some guy derail her sobriety.

And I want to hate him, but I can't because he is a hurting unit and my heart is as broken for him as it is for me.

He can't be in a relationship with me, and that sucks for me, but it also sucks FOR HIM, because I am not just any glitter flinging girl, you know? I am a shame busting, shadow dancing, glitter flinging sober girl who loves the fucking shit out of him.

And that's where I am today.

Ask me tomorrow. I will most certainly be feeling something else.

Stencil GIVEAWAY WINNER!! Kermit Flail

Effy — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 08:22:40 +0000

FINALLY! Random.Org picked the winner, and it was ~ DRUM ROLL ~

RU HUNG

Ru, your email address will be forwarded along to Artistcellar so they can get your stencils to you. YAY!!!

Meanwhile, I vlogged yesterday in bed head and pajamas about creative business, personal sovereignty, NING vs. self-hosting and my drive to create community. Here it is:

Blog - The Glitterhood 2.0

Well, Isn't This Spiff?

In Other News

Breakthroughs & Massive Sketchbooks

May These Seeds Of Grace Feed The Birds of Your Remembrance

Gordon Ramsey Vs. Julia Child

Moonshine Giveaway! And The Winners Are!

Moonshine GIVEAWAY

Bloglovin

Art Journaling as The Great Work, Moonshine, and More {VIDEO!}

Hitting The Self-Help Wall

The Courage To Fail Spectacularly

Moleskine Love and Other Musings.

Kermit Flail! Sweetlings is LIVE

The Thaw

When I'm Alone

Amazon

Noticing

Where There's Life

To Everything, Turn.

Hysterical

Stencil GIVEAWAY WINNER!! *Kermit Flail*

Stencil GIVEAWAY WINNER!! Kermit Flail