There are two things you may or may not know about me:
1) I have a hard time being consistent
2) I’m a girl who loves a project
A project requires planning and creativity (love), presents challenges that require problem solving (love), gives one a sense of purpose (love) and when you reach the end you can sit back and enjoy the result (love). Then you get to start all over with the next project (LOVE)!
My struggle with consistency is that it doesn’t check any of those happy boxes. Being consistent requires discipline and commitment, virtues that seem to have been misplaced somewhere within my cellular make-up.
But I do know from experience that consistency can be extremely rewarding. For example, regularly meditating or journaling makes me feel so much better. Ditto with exercising, practicing any beloved skill (guitar, vocals, dance) and staying on top of life’s chores.
I’ve been remiss in my good habits lately and have felt the need for a project to help me, so the other day while stretching after dance class this thought popped into my head: you need to make a Jar of Ten.
What the heck, you ask? Let me explain. Read more
This is a piece I wrote back in 2011. Seeing as it is October and I find myself making some changes, it seemed a good time to dust it off …
I am collector of hats. Not the fancy fashionable ones. No, I am talking metaphorical hats here. I wear many in my life and, more specifically, in my avocations/occupations, both the ones that earn me money and the ones that don’t. (Yes, I have some bargain bin hats but I love them just the same!) Lately I have taken to wearing multiple hats at the same time. This seems to be making my head heavy. You would think that this head-heaviness would motivate me to pare down my collection but it doesn’t seem to work that way.
Classically October is a big “hat” seeking month for me. I get restless and want to DO stuff. Take some classes, make big changes, and be bold! I look around at my collection of hats and none of them seem good enough. Usually I just dive in and go get more, but this year I pause and ask myself: What’s with the hat hoarding, Luisa? Read more
Have you ever had the sense that you’re working on something? Something deep, brewing within you, calling your name. You are chewing on an idea, dusting off a truth or unpacking a dream. This “something” is not fully formed but it is lurking. Whatever it is, you can feel it, just at the surface but not fully accessible … yet.
So, what do we do with that? How do we see it clearly and let is rise?
I equate it with a Rubik’s cube. Certain people (geniuses) can solve it in a single sitting, but not me. I twist it for a while, get happy when I make one side uniform and then to put it down in frustration or apathy, depending.
To get to any incubating seed you have to stay with the cube; keep twisting away, trying different approaches. Honor the process of processing but at the same time take action; express it, play with it, let it out. Even in frustration and apathy, we must be willing to spend time with the unknown.
What is it? Why is it? How will it manifest? Good questions. Read more
In my recent workshop, we used a variety of artistic mediums to explore creative “assignments” — writing, drawing, photography, etc. This was born of the notion that trying something different can reveal a new layer of our creativity, a new aspect of our being.
For a couple of the assignments, I found myself writing in third person. This is unusual for a writer of personal essays, which are very much first person: Me, I, My.
Telling someone else’s tale was exciting. I did not know where it was going or how it would end. While I won’t deny that I saw myself in the stories, they were not about me. Liberated from being factual, my imagination took the helm.
Our first prompt was about “roots” and this short parable arrived. It came, not from my intellect but from that magical place of knowing that exists in all of us and speaks when we are open and willing.
I share it with you because I like the message it delivered, quite unexpectedly. I share it so that it may spark you to listen to that place of knowing within yourself, even for a moment, and see what comes.
She drew up the fabric of her skirt to take in the view her bare feet. There they were, planted in the squish of damp soil. Blades of grass peeked between her toes, tickling her, but she was not bothered.
She’d been wandering for a long time, afraid to land anywhere long enough to get stuck in the droll or, worse, committed for eternity to something that should have been a passing fancy. Read more