Painting Bliss

Journal Excerpt - Growth, Fear, and Manning Up

2013-06-19T03:00:00-04:00

A Day, A Month, This year 2013

Each year a bird either deconstructs their previous years nest, or they create a whole new grassy abode. They know just what to do and how to do it. Creative little nesters!

It's a good and healthy practice to regularly re-evaluate your life and the place where you live. To ask yourself, am I still content? Do I feel the need for change? Are we still here or do we see bigger opportunities just past the treetops?

There are other questions as well. Like, Do I prevent greatness by coddling my own personal fears? Fear, in my book should be considered a disease. Something to be diagnosed, treated, and hence forth rehabilitated. It shreds your insides to pieces. Fear brings with it so many other symptoms, it's just the first domino to a whole mess of dominoes that slam down upon each other.

It's okay to be vulnerable (when your safe), it is when we let down our guard that goodness seeps in. Like the water that splits stone, it pushes all the bad out of the way - only leaving room for the right things you need (and personally choose) to put into your life. Sometimes holding onto things can only increase the fear discussed above.

It's a cycle, break it.

~ NOW ~

I ask... why tread lightly where tiptoeing begs to be heavy foot falls? Why stand alone, when you can hold onto another? Why linger in doubt, when you can linger in living life out loud?

Live LOUD - Split the stone - BE the water (dammit)

_________________________________________________

I have been casting out fear for about a month now. Choosing to return to my past personal motto of "No one said I can't, so I will"... and that is because I am capable of ANYTHING, and so are you! Somewhere, somehow I lost myself. Cast out good people, good things, and let the negative in (lots of it, cause negative brings friends). We all do it... I'm not afraid to admit to you today that I am guilty of such things.

That's right, little miss sunshine once in awhile sticks her head up her ass!

So I stand here, a creature of the sun - arms cast outward in full surrender. I invited myself back to the party, and holy shit I showed up! Not only did I show up, but I was (and am) the coolest person at the festivities! Anyone bring refreshments? This post has me thirsty!

All jokes aside though...

I'm performing a personal exorcism, and I'm not afraid. I go forth chest puffed out like a robin at dawn. I claim what is mine, who is mine, and march like a soldier manning up for war. I take ownership of things I have done, the person I have been, and the person I am striving to be.

I know where I BELONG. I know where I want to BE. I know who I am meant to be WITH.

Do you?

Have you evaluated lately?

What's Inside - Changing Growing and just Being ME

2013-06-17T03:00:00-04:00

I have felt a bit artistically frustrated lately. On this path of journal writing, doing what makes me happy, therapy, and self discovery... I can see the horizon my art comes from, growing brighter and different. In fact I know it is.

I see these images in my mind, more organic - free flowing - and adventurous.

Exactly how I feel at the moment.

I can't put my finger on my frustration other than I'm not getting to produce anything that is my own. I have been so busy illustrating a book that I just need it to be completed. I am frustrated because I have so much congesting my everyday that it's not allowing ample creative time - the creative time that I so deeply require.

Here I am doing things intentionally to make myself happy and return to my roots but also letting deadlines and responsibilities take over. Responsibilities are responsibilities for a reason though, and named such because they are things that must be done or need to be taken care of.

And so, I am changing my art into a responsibility.

Something that can't be pushed away because there is something else pressing in.

Knowing that I'm changing, I also know that my inner growth will also alter my work. In fact, not sure what is going to come out, makes me a little nervous I suppose. Afraid what others will think - I worry my new work won't be as quickly accepted. "Oh why is she doing her new work like this? Why change? Why this, or that, or the other thing?". I know how stupid that is, that I shouldn't let fears prevent me from creating what's inside or allow my inner critic to pop up and #$&@ with my head.

All great artists evolve. Their work changes, progresses, and matures. I'm there. I feel it... my artist soul is itchy. This artistic adventure of mine has me tapping the inside of my chrysalis. What color wings will I have? What kind of butterfly will I be?

I can't grow up, without my work growing up to.

American NeedleWorks

2013-06-16T03:00:00-04:00

A perfect friday goes like this... wake - coffee - shower - sunshine - - - antique shop - puerto rican food lunch - more antiqueing - finish with a sneak peek of a not yet open yarn shop. Can anything top that?

Not for me! Well one thing, the whole family by my side!

American NeedleWorks is setting up shop in the most delicious location. Head to toe exposed brick and tall ceilings greet you as you enter. It's like stepping out of the ghetto and into heaven itself. The owner is a little slice of heaven too - with his short stature, big smile, and mild southern drawl, Jim and his partner are fixing up, decorating, and designing what they call a "work in progress". Everything placed just so, you can tell that it's a labor of true love. All dreams are. Scrumptious yarns - hand dyed, locally made, and soft for the petting are piled in old baskets and shelving that's as busy as a nest of bees. I wanted to lounge there, hang there, and just chat with Jim all afternoon. I love people. They inspire me with their stories, their dreams, and their common bond of creativity.

Jim was exuberant... telling of arms stretched surfboard balance of trying to ride the waves of emotion that comes with opening a new business brings. "I'm nervous, I'm excited, I'm overwhelmed, and I'm optimistic he said"... I told him all great things are tough and nerve racking in the beginning, that it wouldn't be worth it if it wasn't. He liked that, called me a philosopher... and I smiled.

Thursday nights starting June 27th right in the heart of downtown Middletown N.Y. all are welcome to "sit and knit" where you can enjoy a threaded evening of yarn, tea, and nom noms. Not to mention only for $12, and not to double mention the great company of other yarn lovers you will socialize with. Jim has taken on some talented teachers and hopes that his shop will catch on locally - hard and fast. I have a strong feeling it will!

Jim was humble and shy when I asked to take his picture, afterwards he commented on the messy shirt he was wearing - his paint shirt, and I said "Oh no bother on that shirt, its perfect attire for someone working on their dream!".

So, my yarn friends of Orange County New York, get ready and get excited cause this shop is the answer we have been waiting for! No longer will we have to settle for Lionbrand or Redheart! American NeedleWorks is located at 10 North Street in Middletown New York.

Say hi to Jim, and ell him Ashlie sent you!

The Hand of Creation

2013-06-14T07:54:01-04:00

I shouldn't be typing today, but I can't help it. I have what I call an artist's thumb but you won't find the definition in any dictionary or hear it from the lips of any other artist's (I don't think). When I use it too much, abuse it too much... it reminds me that it is an artist's thumb. It aches straight up into my arm till it reaches the top of my shoulder. It's pretty bad this time, some other fingers have joined in the artist's thumb party and I'm angry at them all. It makes me worry about aging, wondering if some day I won't be able to use my hand at all. I know that's the overly dramatic side of me, but for someone who's whole life comes through her dominant hand... I can't help it.

Today I can't paint. I can't even hold a pen and write... I am using my left hand, and it's like trying to sing backwards. Stupid hand... stupid useless thumb. That's right thumb, I totally just insulted the brain you don't have... take that!

I am my hand... I'm a person of finger bending. My mind must flow from synapses to finger nails. It's how I speak, it's how I feel, it's my very being. So yes... my stubborn self is seeing the doctor next week, I missed two orthopedic appointments... cause I'm a horses @ss some times. As everyone else, I think I know better. My thumb... reminded me I don't.

But enough complaining from me today!

Not looking for sympathy, just dropping my thoughts down the well.

Guess I will do the next best thing and soothe my creative soul...

visit the antique shop!

Coffee Conundrum

2013-06-13T07:34:11-04:00

While visiting my grandmother the other day I couldn't help but stop and meander through some antique shops on the way with my mom. Narrow isles and shelves and surfaces lined with everything old and dusty is a treat that I can't even begin to explain. I am a magpie, taking home and filling my nest with the things that most strongly catch my eye. You can imagine how hard it is for me to leave something behind that I can't afford on that particular day. It's okay though, I leave with the intention of visiting again when I can and hoping the item is still there. Like a vintage globe perched on a vintage surveyors tripod I left behind... stomping like a two year old out the door. "But Mom.......... I want it! I want it now!"

I have to say though that I made out extremely well. I came home with an antique travelers trunk, farmhouse stovetop percolator, two lovely tin boxes, and an array of old drinking glasses to continue our growing collection. And yes, we really do use them! That's the thing with us, we rarely buy something we can't use. Every antique that departs with us is brought home and put to task. Every morning we percolate our coffee on a 1962 coffee maker. It makes the cleanest, most robust coffee which I can't wait every morning to drink. Alas, I have to wait though... because another thing it does so perfectly well is heat the coffee to a temperature just above burn your taste buds off. My poor husband has to stare at his to go cup for most of his one hour ride to work just waiting it out.

I wanted to use the vintage metal stove top perc I found for a whopping $2 just about imimmediately... I carefully measured my grounds, measured the water into the water compartment (I think it's the water compartment), turned the flame on and waited. It did great! It did wonderful... except for the grounds in the water and the boiling over. HA! This morning, it was a second attempt after talking to some girlfriends on Instagram... again trouble. Repeated the same process as the morning before but this time the coffee came out almost see through. Dammit, stomp stomp, huff!

The percolator has three compartments... the main carafe - then the inserts which go as follows. Grounds insert on the bottom which fits snuggly into an upper portion where water goes... I think.

So does anyone know how to use one of these?

Suggestions?

Advice for the technically inclined?

Chives and Bees

2013-06-12T07:30:01-04:00

Chives and Bees

The wind blows as if we live near the sea -

yet we do not.

The trees with their green cardigans and brown courdoroys -

sound like sighs and hushes.

It is morning, the street sleeps-

Or atleast it seems that way from our hive.

No one here knows that I am closed eyes, arms spread -

surrendering to the beauty of morning.

No one knows I am photographing the world waking up.

No one senses that I am as busy as a bee collecting chive dust.

The Circle

2013-06-11T07:24:35-04:00

Being an adult is both gratifying and hard. The even balance of pros and cons that often feel off balanced is a process of life that proceeds through a series of lessons. These lessons either leave you a better more well rounded person, or break you. It's your choice in the end. Your choice, whether you give in to your emotions or whether you raise from the flames like a phoenix. And you can bet when you come back as a bad ass bird cloaked in fire, that nothing will ruffle your feathers again. At least not as much.

Growing up means becoming responsible for yourself, relying either on yourself, or on the shoulder of another - as a pair. Adulthood brings all sorts of big kid situations, decisions, and paths. Your entire life is a journey, and it should be embraced as so. Some things you don't choose, but they happen. Some things happen, and you know they were meant to be... some things occur and you are filled with the greatest most fulfilling joy. This undaunting progression of flying after jumping the nest, opens your eyes to just what you saw your caretakers experience...that you are now experiencing.

When you are a child you are young, dumb, and happy. Experiencing, exploring, and testing the boundaries to see just what you are capable of. It's the chapter where you are your most naive, inexperienced, and new. Like a baby bird you must first be fed and groomed, slowly weaned, then tossed out into open air. First roots - then wings a friend once told me with tears in his eyes. It has always stuck with me, like flies to paper on a farm porch come dusk. I think it will be one of my lessons... letting mine go someday.

Adulthood means you watch those who took care of you decline, age, and weather through their own storms. Most of time all you can be is an ear, a shoulder, and a hug. Family is about support... it is not compared to a tree for no reason. It's not it's many branches that we all dangle our feet off, but a strong deeply rooted foundation that tangles and keeps itself safe from all hard rains, heavy snows, and damaging winds. It's both difficult and eye opening to watch your parents age, your grandparents decline... all the while you are pruning your own wings and shining those of your children. What is life we all ask? It is a map with an X that you must find. There will be boobie traps, rolling boulders, and darts that fly when you least expect them... but I assure you there will be tears of happiness, moments when beauty grasps you by the throat causing your voice to falter, and realizations that completely take it away.

Today I am traveling to see my 90 year old grandmother, a woman who raised me and helped mold this clay into the shape it has formed today. She was always a rock to beat upon, a home to go to, a fairytale story next to my bed. She is in the slow sad decline that is the end. Her mind confused, altered, and more like an unruly child that doesn't listen, than a brain that has learned for 90 years. Watching her change has been less than easy. It often hurts to realize that the relationship I hold on to is no longer there. She knows me better than anyone else (except my husband of course). She can tell if there is something wrong just by looking at my face. My grandmother likes to hold my hand with hers that is as soft as indian silk, feels as fragile as a quilt that has been through the ages.

I know that this is a lesson on my path of self discovery. I know that walking these steps and experiencing whatever is to come will change me for the better as every test I take is returned with a red script A at the top of the paper. Someone recently said I am good at falling down, picking up, and dusting off... digging my heels into the ground and moving forward. I know the things I have been through in my life have given me that ability, and I am thankful for it.

I sit here and think about the circle of life - knowing that I am part of it from so many sides of the prism. I am watching different parts of it through others, and trying to shape the ones of my children. This life is all you have... what will you make of it.

Are you living, or existing?

The Cup Spillith Over...

2013-06-07T08:39:36-04:00

I hear the rain falling outside and I am thankful for it. Knowing there are no errands to run, appointments to make, or school to attend - brings me to a sense of ease that I so badly at the moment. Every day is a steam train where I seem to get on - but never get off. Nights are restless as well and full of sweat.

The washer churns and the dryer it ticks as the drum tosses our sweet scented laundry around - and around - and around. My coffee nearly empty at this wee hour needs a refill as it sits idle in one of my favorite vintage mugs. It is wedgewood blue with a floral pattern hugging the sides. Probably just a 1970's decal but I love it oh so much for it's simple contrast and comfortable handle... even though I'm not a handle holder.

Artistic deadlines loom and right now with everything that is filling my days, art isn't even a pleasure. I know how awful that sounds for art is my life... but when things get overwhelming it's everything that becomes overwhelming. I used to think that I was great at handling stress... but the more I deconstruct my thoughts the more I notice that I am not capable of giving my full attention to more than one thing, at one time. I want to be good at everything, I spread myself as thin as butter across toast... I am a perfectionist in only certain ways and live by the motto "If I'm to do it, it will be done right... it will be done better than right". I don't like to do anything sub-par... so you see when I'm stressed and everything starts to crumble at the edges... so do I. And by stress I don't mean bad stuff (although everyone seems to have a little)... but the cup of life being filled right up to the top and dribbling over the sides and onto the table, that sort of stress. My body fights against it, it wants to shut down... and I become highly irritable, unhinged, and extremely tired. My body says sleep... turn off... decompress... you need it. So I answer the call and sneak it in wherever possible even if it's just closing my eyes and not fully nodding off.

I feel guilty for being un-hinged and snapping at the ones I love. I consciously tell myself not to do it, all throughout the day I say "self, calm down... self, don't"... then I snap, feel guilty, and repeat those words again. The sleep helps, eating helps, a warm cup of coffee and some snuggles on the couch helps. I remind myself that everyone has these days, even a full week of them and that I am not a "bad person", a "bad wife" or "terrible mother"... I know that I am human and must allow myself to handle the stress the way my body wants to. Afterall... it knows what it's doing. It is important to listen to what your body craves... it's guiding you.

This place here where I dump my words is like therapy on a keyboard.

It's my safe place, the space where I can bethe part of the story where the princess removes the pea and sleeps renewingly through the night.

And so, while the transformation ensues here on the blog behind the scenes (pay no attention the the man (woman) behind the curtain... hee hee)... I must write. Not writing is harming me, it's pulling at my strings until the stuffing sticks out. Not writing is like being a teddy bear with loose button eyes... writing is like sewing them up and sewing them back into their position where seeing clearly is much needed.

One day soon you will log in and see that things look different, but the girl who writes here is still the same... just a little braver... a little more open. You will see that this girl is on a journey of self discovery through art and her sweet intrepid words.

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