If God Will Send His Angels

I am writing the beginning of this post days after I received the inspiration for what follows. As I write this opening paragraph, I feel so utterly alone, abandoned, misunderstood, unappreciated, unloved and frightened. Where my heart existed, a void now exists. I now know I was given the following memories to fill this void with something other than the darkness and despair I feel at this moment. For that, I am so very grateful.

As I think about what is to come in the not-too-distant-future, my mind goes back to my childhood, and the Gatlin Brothers song, All the Gold in California. My dad used to play this when I was a kid - it was "our song". I loved it because of the deep bass voice and acapella harmonies at the beginning and middle of the song, and because it lit my dad up! I don't know exactly why Dad loved it, but he would play it both when he was happy and when we needed a pick-me-up.

I remember one of those needed pick-me-up times distinctly, when I was five years old, the summer before I started Kindergarten. I had just gotten my MMR booster shot required before entering public school. Like many others, the booster shot made me quite ill. I don't know the severity relative to others in the same boat, but I was very ill...deathly ill.

I didn't know that at the time, and if you spoke to my family they would likely laugh and scoff at me for being so "dramatic" about getting sick after that shot. I was only five and had a terribly high fever, so my memory is not clear, but it is distinctly real.

I was in and out of consciousness as I lay on our ridiculously long couch in the dark living room, underneath the tapestry of da Vinci's "The Last Supper". Father Murphy, St. Mary's parish priest in Galesville, WI, was close with the previous owners of my parents' home in Trempealeau, so he knew their house had "just the wall" to fit such an immense piece, and that my mother could not say "no" to the offer. The left bottom corner of the tapestry became a little ragged and slightly darkened over the years, as I loved to run my hand over the soft corner I could reach while lying beneath it. There was no reaching for the velvet of the tapestry on that bright summer day, as I was too weak and too consumed by pain to move. Instead, I remember looking at Christ's open palm and taking comfort in his serene face, as compared to the angry lot of disciples around him at the table.

The only light came in from the attached dining room, and it was hard to believe outside it was a beautiful summer day. Inside, I fevered, I shook and whimpered and moaned. There was no place to be comfortable and at some point, I didn't just feel sick, I felt scared. Shortly after that tremendous fear took over me, I was out again. When I came to, my Aunt Doris was praying over me. I don't remember the exact prayers, but I imagine The Our Father, The Hail Mary, you know, traditional Catholic penance fare, and likely some of her own lovely words to the heavenly beings with which she had a close connection. Had I known about the Seven Sacraments at that age, I would have asked for my last rites...for real.

As Aunt Doris prayed over me, I felt so comforted. I felt wave after wave of unconditional love showering over me. Yes, some from my Auntie for sure, but the source of that unconditional love I received through her prayer was Angels. They were BIG, they were BRIGHT, and they surrounded us and filled my parents' living room. I can't tell you how many were there, as their brightness made their outlines fuzzy. I see four distinct angels in my mind's eye, and it felt like a lot more from my small child's perspective.

I don't know if any of my other family members were in the room as Aunt Doris and the Angels prayed over me, and I don't know how long after their visit my fever broke. I don't know if I was as close to death as I now imagine I was, but I do know I was protected and I was loved. I know the fear disappeared as soon as I felt the waves of unconditional love showering over me as the Angels watched and Aunt Doris prayed.

As of this writing, I've only told one other person about the angels 'round me and my Auntie that day, and it was only in recent months. I didn't really remember the event as a child, and certainly never spoke of it. Now that I have had several experiences as an awake, aware adult, I know the events of that day really happened. I have felt the Angels' presence in my life in this last year several times, the most profound experience happened early this summer, just as I had begun my "Dark Night of the Soul" journey. 

As my children played at Copeland Park in the splash pad with one of their friends, I sat at a picnic table just outside of the playground fray, completely immersed in my internal state of coming undone. I played a beautiful song an acquaintance had just sent to me because they could "feel" that I needed it. As I listened, a very thin girl, about my own daughter's age, came walking by with her caregiver. Although she could only look off in the distance to my left, she marched right over to me and asked, "Were you just listening to a song"? 

"Yes, would you like me to play it again for you"? I replied. She excitedly shook her head "YES"!! As the song played, she did her own little unique dance, completely lost in her own world. When it finished, her caregiver and I just looked at each other, the young girl looking off in the distance to my left. I didn't know what to do or say, so I asked "Do you want to hang out with me for a little while"?

"No," she cheerfully replied, and my heart kind of sank. Never looking at me, she then asked if she could give me a hug. 

"Sure," I replied, and I opened my arms. That frail little girl held me, this big, grown-up stranger, in the middle of Copeland Park. 

"Ok, bye!" she said as she released her embrace. Her caregiver gave me a big smile as the tears started to roll down my cheeks, and off they went. Through that little girl, I felt the unconditional love of the Angels, the same as when I was five years old. I allowed myself to come undone, "right there in front of God and Everybody", as Ma would say. My own daughter had seen the interaction from afar, and as soon as the girl had walked away, Stella was at my side asking what that little girl wanted.

Through heaving and sobbing, just as I am doing as I write this, I told my Stella girl, "That was an Angel, baby, sent to give Mama love when I needed it more than ever".

I'm making a map of my life, and the terrain ahead looks rough and I'm not sure how I will navigate all the mountains and valleys. I'm not sure how things will turn out, nor how long my fellow travelers will be with me on this journey. I do know I will never be alone. I will always be held in the arms of the Angels - both Earth-side and Etheric. I love and appreciate all the support that surrounds me and those I love. We're gonna need it!

Usually, one distinct song jumps out for each of my posts. This one has two! I hope you enjoy them as much as I have. After all, "It's the stuff of country songs..." ~U2, If God Will Send His Angels

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Under Pressure

 

Almost the entire month of September was an uphill battle for me of moving…forward. I have A LOT of big stuff to do, and I do mean A LOT. Normally, working under pressure is when I do my best, most inspired work, but not in this current reality. In fact, the more pressure I felt, the more I folded in on myself. After the first week of September, I experienced my first bout of writer’s block, which triggered a fear within me similar to the fear during the birth of our first child. Although I’m beyond biological child-bearing years for this life, I have many, many more metaphorical babies to birth before I’m done on this rock.

When I was rushed into the OR for an emergency c-section delivery of our daughter, I had a fleeting thought that there is just no way she could be done before she even got a start in this life. Now, having just begun my work as a writer, I am not at all ready to face losing my newfound voice. I panicked at the loss of inspiration so close to having received it in the first place. Sometimes we need intervention to help bring something to life. In the hospital, I was surrounded by life-saving professionals who helped bring our baby into the world swiftly, with the care she needed to thrive. When it comes to my writing, I am the only one with the power to resuscitate my voice and allow it to thrive again. Oh the pressure!

It didn’t work to focus on my perceived problem, instead, I had to look at the circumstances around it. What was blocking me from inspiration? I found I was blocked by a long to-do list that I had avoided or procrastinated, and also by not allowing myself to adventure outside of my comfort zone – in all the ways. I checked off the simple tasks I could quickly complete and took myself on an artist’s date to a place I had never been, with no one else invited. I was not more than half an hour into my road trip and received inspiration for my next piece. My voice was not lost, just blocked by my own unhealthy behavioral patterns, which must change to become fully me anyway. Change...often so difficult for me, but brings such sweet relief!

In addition to writing, I am creating something I am super passionate about that I hope will reach far beyond myself and my little family. Unlike emergency surgery, I am required to stay lucid, awake and must fully participate in this birthing process. I feel scared. I don’t feel capable, which for a recovering perfectionist is a recipe for…giving up. Since the Universe is super smooth, it has put me in a place where giving up is not an option. Or maybe that's my soul - either one, it knows what I need. I am required to claim more of who I am, what I am capable of, as well as cultivate an understanding of self-worth that I have not yet fully embraced. And change - I must do things differently than I have in the past to be the person I truly am today.

I am again surrounded by professionals who are helping me bring my latest creation to life. I am so grateful for their help, inspiration, excitement, and willingness to allow me to lean on their expertise while I learn my way through this new adventure. Just feeling safe enough to ask stupid questions and say “I don’t know how to do this” has offered so much relief and freedom! And just like the beginning of my journey as a writer, I have had to lean hard on these kind souls to show me the way. Their support has meant the world to me, a gift I will not squander.

Their belief in me and this project has helped me believe in myself and the value this venture will bring to our place in this world. Even under all this pressure…

Thanks to my awesome co-parent, here’s a version of Under Pressure I hadn’t heard before, performed by two of the most other-worldly humans I can think of!

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Well, I Never Been to Spain...

Ever wonder what life would be like if you had or hadn’t done that one thing? My class trip to Spain in 1995 is one of those experiences for me. In recent months, I wake up most days wondering “who am I going to be today”?! Although I’m sure there are other examples, like becoming a mother, my trip to Spain was the most profound experience of my own rebirth that I can recall. Unlike becoming a mother, the swift transformation I allowed myself during that trip was completely unexpected, at least consciously unexpected. Similar to the transformation of becoming someone’s Mama, it touched every aspect of my Being – no part of me was the same after. So far from home, with only acquaintance-type friends around me, I allowed the ties to my former self to be completely released. I became the person I always wanted to be and it was so much fun!!!

My former self, the one so diminished by fear, was dying to transform! I had no idea this early graduation gift would be the catalyst to becoming who I truly was at that time. My true self had been creeping up intermittently through acts of teenage rebellion in the months leading up to our big journey, but those two weeks touring that foreign land, from its high-desert plains down to the coast and into the sea, offered me the gift of a lifetime. It offered me myself.

I ripped open that shiny, sparkly gift of myself with such excitement and enthusiasm, I couldn’t help but play with the new toy inside immediately! I “played” by speaking to people with confidence and interest, making eye contact with everyone who passed by. I took in my foreign surroundings with such wonder – everything was amazing and beautiful and awe-inspiring. Even seemingly mundane things like the pattern of the bricks of the walking plazas gave me a sense of wonderment. Through spontaneous conversations with benevolent strangers, a few of my trip-mates and I learned to salsa dance at a beachside bar. Two of the benevolent strangers enjoying some Mediterranean beach time with their motley crew happened to be professional salsa dancers! 

An ugly duckling a few rounds in this lifetime, including my entire 16 years leading up to this trip, I avoided the opposite sex as much as possible, just as they avoided me. I took my coke-bottle glasses off whenever I could, and with this newfound confidence,  I delighted in beautiful grown men flirting with me, and me them! As you can imagine, my confidence grew exponentially. I spoke with people from all over the world, and each one seemed to meet me with as much interest as enthusiasm for me as I had for them. I literally had the time of my life!

My clumsy attempts to speak their native Spanish language were warmly welcomed. They helped me understand them and vice-versa. I never felt judged, only embraced and accepted in this friendly, beautiful place among so many beautiful people! Spain, especially its capital, Madrid, felt so familiar to me…I truly felt at home. I gladly volunteered to take the worst bunk with my roommates, I rose the earliest to be out of their bleary-eyed ways in the morning – nothing could dim my experience in this Spanish paradise. I ventured across an ocean as a teenage nobody, afraid of the world, and returned two weeks later with myself, full of confidence, enthusiasm, and a zest for life that didn’t exist within me before I left. Unbelievable!

And now here I am today, having just journeyed through the darkest parts of myself to experience yet another rebirth, and I can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness that this inward journey was so heavy compared to my rebirth in Spain. But what if I hadn’t? What if I had let all that fear and resistance keep me from this new understanding of who I truly am, how I best work, and what I want to put my time and energy into? What if I had never been to Spain?

The truth is my soul wouldn’t let me stay stuck. I came here with an unremembered agenda of experience and feeling I could only have during this lifetime - right here, right now. I have so much sparkle and fun ahead of me, it was time I released all that baggage keeping me from myself, keeping me from realizing my dreams. Spain showed me who I wanted to be, and my Dark Night of the Soul Journey 2021 showed me who I no longer was. And now I get to learn how to be who I am today, and it feels pretty damned good!

I saw Three Dog Night at the Historic Trempealeau Hotel the summer after I returned from Spain. I always liked this song, but after having been there, "Never Been to Spain" became an unexpected personal anthem. I love the sensual sound and feel, and of course, the memories this song throw me right back into are a gift...of a lifetime.

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Three Little Frogs, A Spider & Me

A friend and I recently joked that I’ve started a frog farm down here at Round Lake. Yes, they are everywhere here in the marshland, but I have three special friends who have taken over the top corner of my office window – the one just above the small lamp on my desk, which I now leave on for them each night. They feast on the bugs drawn to the lamplight and I delight in watching them, almost creeped out by their presence, but not enough to extinguish the source of their movable feast. Yeah, it’s a little weird, but then again, so am I.

In the summer of 2018, I had a similar relationship with a spider who had spun her web near the light at the back door of my former home. This was back when I would do “two sleeps” each night. The first sleep was when I would pass out with our kiddos reading stories and saying our gratefuls in bed. I would wake around midnight for some alone time, which I had next to none of as a stay-at-home-mom. My first order of business was in the kitchen, where I flipped on the light for “The Grande Dame of the Back Door”. Yes, I even named her, frightful though she was.

She was extremely emotive compared to these three chill amphibians. The Grande Dame would rear up on her back legs, batting at the intrusion of light, her web vibrating from her frenzied movement. I would often speak to her, “You know I’m just trying to help, Mama. It’s gonna make your night so easy and you’ll have lots more time to just hang out and EAT”! 

Whether I spoke to her out loud, or just in my thoughts, she seemed to calm down, probably just having acclimated to the stadium lighting surrounding her home. I like to think maybe she understood me, mother-to-mother. Either way, she soon reveled in the gifts that light brought her way.

In the bugs flew, one after another, and she went to work straight away, spinning and rolling and all of her other gruesome activities. This nightly routine went on nearly the whole summer, and she even calmed a bit as time went on. I could tell she was still uncomfortable when the light flipped on, but she soon gave up the hissy fit and just sat on her web until her senses had adjusted. She was HUGE by the time August rolled around even though I took care to leave the light on only an hour or so each night.

And then one late-summer night, I flipped on the light and she was gone. The Grande Dame of the Back Door went missing! A wave of fright and then sadness for this gigantic spider nearly knocked me over. I was quite sure a bird or bat had the tastiest meal over the last 24 hours. I know, circle of life and all that, but this was a sentient being who I spoke to every night for months. No, she never replied, but we did share a connection. 

There was purpose to our late-night tête-à-tête’s if nothing more than to show me I was so lonely for connection…in a household of four humans and two cats, and many friends. To my relief, she did return about a week later, likely after hiding away to lay her eggs. But of course, that meant the end of her life was near and the next time she disappeared, it was for good. I said a proper goodbye to this strange being I shared my nights with that summer and wondered if the next spider I carried out in a glass jar was one of her babies?

I think I’ve always fared better with the animal kingdom than humans. I am too much for most humans, but no animal has ever turned its back on me. I am as sensitive as they come, and much of the time, this world is just too much for me. This was especially true as a child, without the tools and understanding of how I work, what I perceive, and how I can best keep myself from being pulled under by the energy around me. 

An empath to the extreme, with intermittent, undeveloped intuition. I know I’m not alone; many perceive things beyond our five senses. Some have visions, hear messages, just know, even smell a presence or speak with those who have passed over. I primarily feel…the truth. More often than not, I know what others are feeling, when someone is lying, needs a hug, wants me to speak for them, or is in physical pain – many of those things people try to hide from the outside world, and oftentimes, hide even from themselves. I see who people truly are and have a really rough time when their behavior and beliefs do not match their true being. Ironically, my spidey senses don't always work on me, and I am often the last to understand something about myself that is obvious to the rest of the world.

You could understand why a highly sensitive person feels safer around animals than humans. Animals have never lied to me, let me down, hurt me, or abandoned me, even when I have done those very same things to them. Their love is unconditional. I think the animals that have loved me, saved me. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t have made it through without their company and connection.

And now, the world has gotten snarly and is healing even though it may not look like it. Evolution in consciousness cannot be stopped, but it can get pretty ugly before we reach the next spiral up.

And so I am grateful to have found my refuge on Round Lake, surrounded by the beauty and the sounds of all things good and real, including those three little frogs… "pitched by my doorstep. Singin’ sweet songs of melodies pure and true. Sayin, this is my message to you-whoo-oo. Singin’ don’t worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing's gonna be alright". 

And so it is...alright. Thank you Bob Marley, The Three Little Frogs, The Grande Dame of the Back Door, and all my animal guides sent to help me through this life - my Earth Angels in some of the strangest costumes!

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Down by the Lakes...Into My Soul

Through serendipity, guide-directed daydreaming, divine intervention, generous angels, and a little moxie, I now call a spot on Round Lake in Trempealeau, WI, my home.

As a small child, I heard this place referred to as “Birch Acres”. It was part of a resort with several cabins, all remaining structures are now owned individually. By the time I was speaking about this is area myself, we just said, “down by the lakes”.

“Let’s go for a bike ride down by the lakes!" 

"Remember that night we almost drove into one of the lakes?!" 

"Hey - meet me down by the lakes!”

Unlike many of my other friends who grew up here, I went fishing “in the bottoms,” as Ma calls it, only a handful of times during my childhood. Just passing through on bike or by car, I did not explore or immerse myself in the Lakes District of Trempealeau much at all. “Down by the Lakes” seemed almost a foreign country to me, too wild to dream of actually living in. This is where all that daydreaming and divine intervention come into play.

You see, I absolutely love it down here. The people who actually live down here are of a different sort as well, and I love that too! Upon moving in, several of these generous souls shared their version of what life is like down here. They shared things I need to watch out for, waterway resources, animal sightings, among many other useful tidbits. I also love learning what titles local people with a little history use for different places around this area. Lone-Tree, a landing on The Big Marsh down here in the bottoms, or School Bus Point out by Marshland, WI. Oh, a historical-alternative cartographer's dream come true!

I feel a kinship with this land and waters, unlike anything I have ever experienced. I am learning my affinity to this place is likely connected to my family history, and I have much to excavate there - an endeavor connected to such wild tales…well, most will not believe them! That’s for another day, but I will share that I found that my great-great-grandfather, Antoine Grignon, had a camp not far from this area I now call home, where the Black River empties into the Mississippi. Grignon is very connected to those wild tales I hope to write about someday. 

I asked some of my new neighbors and friends about where exactly the Black River empties into the Mississippi, which is not as cut-and-dried as one might think! They got out old maps, which I used along with Wisconsin State Historical Society resources, and a hand-drawn map my father and I created, to pinpoint Antoine Grignon’s camp. My great-great-grandfather had a camp down-river from me, just another “Lone-Tree Length” from my house - amazing!

I know I was delivered to this place I now call home at just the right time in my life, to do that excavation through the means necessary for me to make sense of it all…through feeling, of course! What better way to unearth aspects of my roots I can only connect with through clairsentience, than placing me where my ancestors actually once walked?! So very blessed, am I!

Oh, the places we will go...all right here, Down by the Lakes and Into My Soul!

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

Waiting is the Hardest Part

As I sat at the intersection of a local county road and highway, I waited at the stop sign for two cars to make the left turn they signaled that they intended to make. Now, I may be a riskier driver than some, but it appeared that the first car was going to wait for oncoming traffic approaching from the next town, six miles away. Finally, the driver made a halted, stop-and-start run at the intersection. I cheered him on and gave him a thumbs-up as he passed by my window. And then the driver of the next car did the same damned thing! I about came out of my skin. My patience was nil after the first round, and I motioned for this next driver to “C’mon, just go, go, go”!!! This was NOT a four-way stop after all, and I had to wait until they cleared the intersection to continue on my way…forward.

After what seemed like hours waiting for these two cars to complete their turns at this intersection of Hell and Just Wait, I was finally able to cross the highway and be on my way. But not before a dose of the road rage from my daily commutes years ago reared its ugly head. I don’t like feeling or behaving that way, so just as quickly as I crossed the intersection, I began to reflect on my behavior and perspective.

I saw these two drivers as wasting my precious time, which seems such a premium these days. Total victim mentality, something I’ve declared I never actually was, nor ever will choose to be again. So, if not a victim, what was this showing me about myself? Where have I waited longer than needed to do something I am meant to do, safely, at that? When else have I poked and prodded others to move before they are ready? When have I allowed myself to be rushed? Why is waiting so hard for me? When have I just followed what the person ahead of me was doing, whether or not it was necessary or good for me?

Oh, Shirley! So many examples came flooding into my mind...

Deciding to have children much later than I would have chosen to had I not been living in fear. Pushing our oldest child to be someone she is not, on a timeline fit for institutionalized learning, not honoring who she is and what she needs. Pushing loved ones to be something they are not. Pushing others to do things at my pace, instead of honoring their own journey’s timing. Doing what everyone else is doing, cuz “that’s just how it’s always been done”. Not doing the one thing that brings me tremendous joy, because of fear of not being good enough. Learning (the hard way) that patience truly is a virtue. Making my health, happiness, and path forward someone else’s responsibility. The list goes on…and on.

Through my recent Dark Night of the Soul Journey, I have come to terms with many negative aspects of myself. Control Freak being at the top of the list. I have learned the origin of that need to control, and have healed its source. Today I give myself grace as the residue of 42 years of learned, practiced thoughts and behavior continue to surface, ready to be washed away. Today I give everyone else a break, even hesitant drivers, who I thought were delaying me on my path forward. Who knows, those four extra minutes I spent waiting for my turn may have prevented something bad from happening further down the road, or put something awesome in motion I will never know was connected to my time spent at the intersection of Hell and Just Wait.

Either way, I know something more about myself, my behavior, and the person I want to be. I feel only gratitude for this situation, as I allowed myself to be shown even more about my path forward…a most sparkly route, for sure!

I am so sad I didn't see this guy in concert before he passed away. Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers know it for sure..."The waiting is the hardest part..."

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

I am a Writer

I used to have an “I am a Writer” folder on my desktop, in which I saved a myriad of half-baked writing ideas. Very few were ever finished, almost none were shared. I knew I had this desire and talent within me, but being a full-blown perfectionist at the time, stating “I am a writer” (which, to me meant sharing my work in some way) was just a no-go. I kept a journal and my favorite medium is writing letters, so I got practice with old-fashioned correspondence and sentimental cards, but that was about it.

And then the most wonderful thing happened…I broke my foot! Through Universal Intervention (a.k.a. a broken foot, life falling apart, and Spirit Guidance) I started doing The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. One of the commitments I made when starting the work was to take myself on an “Artist Date”, a solo play date, once each week. The author suggests things like a walk in the woods, touring an art gallery, a trip to the beach, or even a junk store – something to delight and nurture my inner artist/child. Now, I had a broken foot, so many of her suggested expeditions were just not possible as I cruised around on a super-cool knee scooter. And I mean…Super. Cool. I did manage a few places where I had fantastic experiences like the library and a beach unknown to me at the time, near Viroqua, WI. For some reason, I had been drawn to that area over that particular summer. I soon learned why!

Shortly after I began recovering my inner artist, I came across a “Draft and Craft” weekly writing workshop hosted by The Driftless Writing Center, Inc, in Viroqua, WI. Oh, my heart went pitter-pat! Viroqua is an hour and 15 minutes from my home, which also meant filling my cup with cosmically inspirational audio content on my drive. Yes, a once-weekly trip for a few months seemed a perfect way to spend my “me” time and I would have a built-in Artist Date while my foot healed. I was so excited about the first session; I could hardly wait!

We met in a beautiful old Victorian house in an equally beautiful, vibrant neighborhood. Our workshops were led by members of the Driftless Writing Center’s board of directors, who were all writers, published authors, and/or editors themselves. Such talent and support to help me on my way back to me! Participants varied from published authors to those like me, just getting started on our journeys, and all levels of experience in-between. Each week we were given writing prompts and held discussions on different themes such as Building a Writing Practice, Writing the Hard Stuff, Endings, Characterization, and Poetry. Oh gawd, poetry. I rarely read poetry, let alone write it, but the night we covered poetry in that big Victorian house was the night I realized, with a little help from my new writer friends, that I am a writer. In fact, we all are, if that is our intention. I even managed this little "Lune" poem, all on my own. It was a big night.

Just as quickly as I came to that realization, I lost it. I lost it in the sea of life and stress, an ending marriage and so many unfulfilled dreams. I lost that sparkly piece of myself…again. So, here I am today, having reclaimed many pieces of myself, and again, with the help of my friends, I have reclaimed my writer self. And oh boy, am I having the time of my life! 

I’ve been writing regularly for public consumption for only a few weeks, so when I saw Keith Smith-Writer’s post, “I am a writer” (on my daughter’s birthday, no less) my heart nearly leapt out of my chest! In his post, Keith shares his decision to become a writer eight years ago. He had no formal training, but through the power of decision and belief, he declared “I am a writer”, which changed his life and the lives of many others. I am one of them! I couldn’t peck out my comment on his post fast enough: “I am a WRITER too”! I even declared it on the wall of Mississippi River Lock & Dam No. 6 (photo above) in my forever home of Trempealeau, WI - oh, it be!

And so, I am…a writer.

Today I thank everyone who has supported me in any way on this journey. Whether through the inspiration of strangers like Keith Smith-Writer, people sharing their talents and experience through groups like The Driftless Writing Center, Inc, or friends who listen and offer support - all of it has helped deliver me to this place - right here, right now. It took lots of starts and stops, crushed dreams, and soldiering on with a broken foot and all, but I made it! And there’s no place I’d rather be than right here being all ME!

Soul man, Earl St. Claire has totally got me today, as I'm Feelin' Alive! Go on, pair up with that speaker and DANCE!!

"...I'm holdin' onto the Universe, prayin' she don't let me down. I'm afraid if I try something crazy, I might end up in love, love, love. But the world that we live in is crazy and we gotta learn how to trust, trust, trust..." 

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!

The Artist's Way...My Way!

In 2018, I experienced a tremendous amount of personal change and shifting, not unlike my current soul’s journey. When asking for advice from a talented psychic medium, she relayed that one of my spirit guides, my main man, was with me to foster my writing talents and I was to get to work! She suggested using The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron to help me get started on my path. I bought the book straight away but did not actually begin the work until a few months later, after I ran myself ragged taking care of everyone except myself. In August of 2018, the Universe slammed me into the sofa with a broken foot and said “SIT YOUR ASS DOWN”!

So, given really no choice, I sat my ass down and started doing The Artist’s Way, a three-month course in recovering one’s inner artist, or inner child. Now, I had been told my entire life that I was not creative, I couldn’t carry a tune and really didn’t have an artistic bone in my body. Perfectionism began very early in my life, so this also meant I never tried to do anything creative, especially those things mentioned above, because I already knew I was not, and could not be, any good at them. Ferchrissakes, I would purposely be “sick” on ART Day in elementary school because it was just too stressful to be such a disappointment. Art day…Oh. My. God.

Just in case…Bless you, Mrs. Hazelton! You were the only art teacher who celebrated my terrified attempts at grade school art. You made me feel safe enough to try and I even enjoyed Art days with you! I consider you an Earth Angel, for real.

Julia Cameron says that we are all creative and that working through the process of The Artist’s Way, a spiritual path in and of itself, is "spiritual chiropractic" – it unblocks all the kinks our creative being has taken on throughout our lives and allows us to align with our creativity. 

“What you are doing is creating pathways in your consciousness through which the creative forces can operate.” Cameron explains that this process of “creative recovery” stretches and alters your consciousness, whether or not you call it a spiritual awakening, it is happening.

The Artist’s Way includes working through one chapter each week for three months, doing the exercises at the end of each chapter, and committing to the regular practice of:

• The Morning Pages – No matter what your creative medium, you must commit to writing three pages of stream-of-consciousness every morning…longhand. This simply gets creative flow running through you. I still do my morning pages daily. Well, with a few breaks here and there.
• The Artist’s Date – Once a week you take your inner artist child out on a date doing whatever your artist’s heart desires. No one else is invited. It is the time spent with one’s inner artist that is important, not money spent doing something extravagant. My favorite artist’s dates were the beach, the library, and the Driftless Writing Center, which I will talk about in a future post.
• The Creativity Contract – When teaching this course in person, Cameron requires each student to sign a contract promising this gift to themselves and the work required of this…way. I knew this was something special the first time I signed my contract, but I had no idea how life-changing this work, this gift, would be!

Since completing The Artist’s Way at the end of 2018, my entire life has changed - in all the ways! Yes, some of it has been downright hellish, but I am emerging on the other side, a whole person, embracing my creative gifts, and am experiencing real joy on a daily basis for the first time in my life! For me, this book has been nothing short of miraculous and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who is blocked in any way from their creative dreams.

In fact, if this is something you would like to do in a group setting, let me know! Friends and I started meeting weekly a while back to discuss our experiences doing The Artist's Way, but the timing just wasn't right. This work is a solo endeavor, for the most part, but meeting regularly to discuss and process has been invaluable to me in many different contexts and I would LOVE to facilitate that if there is any interest.

Thanks to a dear soul friend, I surrendered to my love of Lord Huron in early 2019. While not about anything specific to this post, it was my anthem during this "season of me" experience I had during that year. Much gratitude to Ben and the boys of Lord Huron - to this day, "Hurricane" shakes my whole being alive and served as a musical bridge to my soul, along with most of their other tunes. Best with good speakers and space to dance, my friends.😊 

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me at the beginning of this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!