Love in Art

           Lately it feels like everything is pressing in on me from all sides, and soon I may just implode from the pressure. I fight, and take deep breaths to keep myself whole and in control. There are moments when I feel completely free and light. Those moments come when I am creating. I recently finished painting and re-upholstering our dining room chairs. I also painted the table. I have a sewing project I pick up and put down when I feel like it. My art journal is always there waiting for me. Last night I started making a mosaic on a round kitchen table. It's going to be gorgeous.

I think sometimes that if I can create enough beauty, then maybe some of the ugliness in the world will be cast out. It just won't have a place anymore and will have to leave. Each beautiful thing I create is like turning on a light in a pitch black sky scraper. It seems daunting to fill the entire building with light, but room by room, I have to believe it can be done. Although, maybe some rooms are meant to be left dark. Darkness can be warmth and rest. Renewal. It isn't all oppressive.


When I create art, I feel Love right there with me. Inspiring me, and sometimes guiding me. It's like each thing I create is a mission I've been given, and when I'm done, it's complete and whole, and I feel more complete and whole. It's healing.

I think that everyone has hurt and pain in their past and in their present, and in their future. For me, when I've been hurt, it feels like a small piece of me has been taken away, as if I'm a puzzle. So I'm not whole anymore. When I desire to create something, and I fulfill that desire, it feels like I get one puzzle piece back. I'm one step closer to being whole, or at least you can tell what picture I'm trying to show you, even if some pieces are still missing.

When I paint, each stroke of the brush is like an empty riverbed, opening up a channel for the negative emotions to flow out. When I sew, each stitch that pulls a seam together is also connecting the rational thoughts with the irrational feelings, bringing them together to form sense and clarity. Each piece I glue down, every line or swirl that I draw, each strip of tape, smattering of color, and each word I write. They all flow together to continue in the creation of me. Love formed my soul, the canvas, and then handed me the paint and the brush.

I am ready for….

I am ready for….

I’m ready for the world to hear me. I’m ready to stand up and speak the words of my heart. The words that were formed within me, and were waiting to be birthed. I will not be silenced, my story will be told. I know that people will try to “fix” me, and think that I am lost. I know that they will tell me I’m wrong, and have a million and one bible verses to jab into my forehead with tacks, as if I am merely an empty corkboard, needing to be filled with reminders of who they think I should be.

This will not stop me. No one can. Because I am ready. It is time to take off my cloak and reveal the wings on my back that have been hiding for too long, folded up against my skin. Unused. Useless.

I am ready for the bridges, the connections that will be made in revealing my stories, and I am ready for many of the old bridges to be torn down, so that I cannot be invaded by attacking forces.

This doesn’t mean that I am now invincible, and that I will be free from hurt feelings and the pain of my very self being rejected by others. It means that I’m ready to deal with all of that. Sometimes it will hurt a lot, but most times...I will remember that this is good. Because I will be able to breathe huge, deep breaths, no longer chained or boxed up, but free.

I’m ready to be who I am, who I need to be in every moment. I’m not the same. I am always changing. I will not be defeated when too many challenges threaten to beat me down.  I will rise up! I am strong. What I am doing is what is right for me. No one else has to approve. Only me and god. Only me and Love.

Where is he calling you to risk right now?

Relationships? Maybe He’s calling me to risk relationships. To test them, see if they can withstand the barrage of truth, emotions, and life! To see if friendships will last when my friends see the real me. All of me. The me who no longer nods and smiles when people talk to me about things I totally disagree with, but the me who says “I hear you, but I don’t agree, and that’s ok, because we don’t have to be the same to stay friends.”

What am I really risking? Am I really so close to those people I call friends that I will miss them if our friendship ends? Or am I really risking my vulnerable heart. My feelings.

To stand tall, like a tree on the top of a mountain seems like risking everything, but in reality, maybe it’s not as much of a risk as I thought. Maybe I forgot that I have roots. Roots that go down so deep that I cannot be torn down or blown away by the hot air blasted at me by those who think that since we disagree, I must be severely wrong.

Is he calling me to risk, or is he calling me to dance? To sway with the cool breeze he sends me, and let my branches dance and sway in the wind. Not weak, as some might perceive swaying to be, but strong because of flexibility. Not stiff and steadfast in the wind, coming ever closer to the breaking point, but instead gently leaning and bending, refreshing my view of the world from each angle the wind guides me to.


I wrote this in response to the writing prompts given to me during a write-in with Story Sessions. It was my first write-in, and I loved it! I came away feeling refreshed and loved.

Why I no longer attend church

So, I know a lot of people wonder why I don't go to church anymore. I know I don't have to explain myself, but I'd like to be able to let my friends know, so they can understand me better.

When I go to church I feel like god is in a box there. I feel like it's all closed up, and that I am expected to follow a set of rules, and behave a certain way. I don't like that. I don't like identifying with just christians. Since stepping away from church I am realizing that I can find god in unexpected places. Did you know he's sometimes in the movie theater? I met him there yesterday. I also found him at panera yesterday morning. He met me there for coffee. I heard him talking when a teenage boy spoke fondly of his younger brother. I felt his arms around me when my son ran up and hugged me. I saw him smile when the sun came out. I heard him laugh when a little girl told her grandfather a joke.

I don't believe that the bible is 100 percent true. I don't take it all literally, but churches and churchgoers do. I don't like sitting for 30 minutes listening to one man's opinion on a passage in the bible. I don't like singing songs praising america, and I don't like singing lame songs that have wimpy lyrics and melodies. I'm a musician, so I know quality music when I hear it. I'm also a poet so I know the beauty found in words, and I can see the lifelessness in cheap songs that are cranked out one after another. I have heard songs I like in church, but that is the exception, not the rule.

The reality of it is, I don't like who I was when I was a churchgoer. I think because that wasn't really me. That was someone who was squashed into a chevron patterned box, with a hot pink ribbon tied to keep it closed. Perfectly dreadful. I cut up that ribbon and burned the box. I couldn't breathe inside of it, and even though I still felt god there, it kind of hurt, because I'm not square-shaped, and I thought he wanted me to be.

Turns out he doesn't! I happen to have an hourglass shape, and god, my love, thinks I am beautiful. I'm able to meet him everywhere because I'm not folded up and in pain inside that box anymore. I can think and see more clearly, and I can also question everything under the sun! I don't have to have answers all the time, but I love asking questions. Kind of like a child.

It's funny, because I know that some people who read this will be somewhat pissed that I didn't capitalize god. They might think I'm going to hell because I think I'm all that. Seriously, that is funny.  I'm not afraid of god, and I never will be. I adore him, because he adores me. I respect him too, but that's because he respected me first, and to me respect=love. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be right now. I may not ever return to traditional church, and that's not wrong. It's just right. For me. Because god? He's all I need.

PANVOCANTA (unfinished)

Paint the words of the

world from that place

in your heart

Where the healing begins

and the restoration starts.

In the vast chasmic 

depths of the turning

of the earth.

Seeing beauty make holy

revealing our worth.

Placing hands over wounds

that were hiding

in the dark.

Speaking pain with our lips

where our skin still bears the mark.

There is hurt there is

fear in the moving 

of the crowd.

So be still and you'll hear

All The Voices Singing loud.

Inspired to share this because of a prompt in the Story Sessions group I am a part of.

Claiming the Tornado

Recently I feel as if my life has been tossed into a tornado, and I'm spinning around and around just trying to catch my breath, find my balance, and spread my wings to fly within the mess. I've had discussions with people close to me about how I don't don't believe everything in the bible is 100% accurate and true. I don't base my whole life on a book. Hey, there's a lot of wisdom to be found in the bible. But really, if the God I worship really ordered whole cities to be destroyed (and that means sweet babies and chubby toddlers), then I can't follow a god like that. I believe in a God of Love, and Love doesn't destroy. It's not its nature. And that is simply one example of so many things I have a problem with in the bible.

Love nurtures, builds, creates, protects, and uplifts. God is Love. God is not death. I have stepped away from the bible and gained clearer understanding. I am also learning that my journey looks different from yours, and maybe you don't believe the same thing as me, but that's ok. Accept me as I am. I accept you as you are. We are each on our own paths. Sometimes those intersect, sometimes they go parallel, and sometimes they go in opposite directions.

 That doesn't mean one of us is evil, and the other is good. I'm human, so of course I wish you saw things the way I do, and it hurts when you don't. These feelings are real and I won't pretend they don't exist. I think you feel the same way. We are human, we do feel things deeply, especially rejection. It doesn't have to mean rejection. I'm learning how to live maybe a little more gently, and let those around me be themselves (as if they need my permission). I'm also always going to be true to myself. No hiding and pretending that I'm "good," that I have it all figured out. Because the truth is, no one has it all figured out.

So, instead of thrashing and screaming within this tornado that is spinning me head over heels and round and round, I'm spreading me wings and gliding on the current to see where it takes me, but also to take control of myself.

Finding My Outlet

Ok, so I had heard about art journaling sometime last summer from Jamie. She told me it might be a good outlet because I was skyping her and talking about how I needed to create stuff, but it was hard because we were on the road a lot. I think I was skyping her from Boston, at the time. Or maybe somewhere in Maryland....can't remember. Anyway, I forgot about it for awhile because it didn't seem to make much sense to me.

Not too long before Christmas I met my friend Brittany at a Panera Bread, and she had been art journaling. She showed me the one she had with her, and I was immediately in awe and inspired! There's no right or wrong with art journaling. It can be perfect, or imperfect. Crazy or serious. Whatever mood you're in, and whatever emotion needs to come out. This is now my outlet. I repurposed an old and huge diaperbag and put all my art stuff in it. I now have an art journal, and I add something to it at least once a week, but my day doesn't feel complete unless I open it and look at the heart within. Almost every Sunday morning you will find me at my local Panera, art journaling and drinking coffee. Come join me sometime.

This is My Story, and I Will Not Be Silenced.

Fuck. Fuck shit damn blast crap, and hell! Ok, now I can begin.

This is my story. A story about how I was naive, trusting, and foolish. A story about how I got hurt because of that, and a story about how I lost faith, and gained freedom.

It begins with an end. A life ended. My baby's life. She only lived for 7 weeks inside of me, and then she left me. People were so kind and loving at the church we attended. I hated it. I didn't want kindness. I didn't want support. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run. So we did.

We moved to FL. We quickly found a church there that seemed ok, although my gut feeling was that something was just sort of...off. I ignored that feeling because I wanted my kids to have stability. To have friends. I didn't want to drag them from church to church looking but never finding the perfect one. That happened to me. When I was just a kid. It wasn't fair. So we stayed there

. I got pregnant again, and this time I knew my baby would stay with me. The ladies in the church threw me a nice baby shower. I felt special, and even though they kept me at arm's length, I felt loved. I easily trusted. The trouble began when I gave birth and returned home. We came to church, excited to show off our newest family member. We were welcomed, and baby was properly swooned over

. As time moved on people began to notice me and my baby. They began to notice that I didn't always go to the nursing room to nurse him, but instead innocently sat down and lifted my shirt wherever there happened to be an available seat. After all, he was hungry, and I wanted to continue being involved in conversations.

One evening, we showed up at a friend's house who was hosting small group, and he offered to put a chair in his bedroom where I could nurse my baby if I needed to. I said no thanks, I'll just nurse him wherever I happen to be sitting. He flushed a bright red and said how that might bother people. I told him that's too bad. I nurse my baby wherever I happen to be, and that they will just have to accept that. He let it go. A few weeks later at another small group meeting we were all seated around a large table. My baby was hungry, so I started to feed him. I looked up and noticed the associate pastor's wife glaring at me with truly evil eyes. I had no idea why. I thought that was so weird. After small group ended she immediately left and went to go sit in her van. I noticed her sitting there staring at me as we walked out to our car later on.

A couple days later she sent me an email, saying she wanted to talk to me about a 'sensitive' issue. I wrote back and told her sure, how about we meet at panera sometime this week. She wrote back and said no, that won't work for her

. Later on she suggested that we meet at church right before the service. I was like, hey, sure, why not? When we got to church that morning she led me to the pastor's office since it was empty. She had another young mom and her baby meet with us as well. Together they began to tell me about how they'd had complaints about my feeding my baby in front of people. They told me how I needed to cover up so that I would not cause my brothers to stumble. I started seeing red. I felt like they just hit me in the face with a brick.

WTF??? I was so angry, so hurt. I felt so betrayed! First of all, people were complaining to her about me? Why not talk to me directly? I looked her in the eyes and told her no, I will not cover up. So she said I was being selfish, and not considering how my brothers might stumble. I told her no, that they need to see more women nursing their babies because it's lovely and natural. I said I know you think I'm sinning, but I'm not. She gasped! "sinning! I didn't say sinning, did I? She looked at the other woman in the room. I answered for her.

"no, you didn't use that word, you implied it."

She quickly moved on to talk more about using a nursing cover. Once again, I refused. SHe couldn't believe that I was refusing. She looked me in the eyes and it was a fight of wills. I have a very strong will. She got nowhere.

THe whole time I was shaking on the inside, while remaining steady and firm on the outside. I knew she was wrong. She even told me that she loved me, and that she was trying to help me. I have never felt less loved. I don't think she knows Love. Love doesn't act like that. Love doesn't try to change you or control you.

When the meeting was over I stood up. Smiled a very fake smile, and said goodbye. I walked out and found my husband and kids. I told my husband "We are leaving, and we are never coming back."

So we left. I no longer like church. I've seen how it's so full of fake people who pretend to love you. People who preach from the bible and have it all memorized, and who want you to live like you were in bible times, only if we really did that then I would have several sister-wives or I might be a prostitute or just a very violent person. They would also have a special title. Pharisee. You know, those ‘bad guys’ in the bible who Jesus was always telling off because they had so many rules? Yeah, them. So here I am. I've been hurt. I healed a little, but it still hurts. I never knew what a 'trigger' was until this. I'm shaking as I write. I shake when I talk about this, and I'm going to admit something. It scares me, and I fucking NEVER get scared.

But through this experience I have learned something important. I learned how to be free. I’m learning how to fly. Sometimes the memory of this threatens to steal the strength in my wings, but I won’t let it. Because of all this I have stopped reading the bible, and I’ve stopped going to church. I no longer call myself a christian because I am not one of them. But I have found someone. I found Love.

I can meet with Love anywhere. Love is the one who created us, and Love joins us together. If you look around you, Love is everywhere. You carry Love with you wherever you go, and you cannot get away from Love, because without Love you will not survive.

I am from Love.

When I pray, I pray to Love.