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I found a juried show with a submission date in January. It seems perfect for my prayer flags. I was conflicted for a couple of days since I'd like to try to show them  in a gallery but it occurred to me I have a significant body of work and a few choice pieces will be submitted to the show. The others I am planning to shop around for a gallery. I've been practicing listening and this solution came as I simply listened for a solution to the conflict. I am very grateful.


It brought to light a fear however. This is how it went: since the Fear Chair Project, I don't so much feel afraid of success. I am moving forward and feeling good about that. However (read here, the big "BUT") my life is pretty involved right now in helping to manage a loved one's mental health. So my fear is, what if my art career takes off and then something goes wonky in the management plan and I have responsibilities as an artist AND as a caregiver. How will I handle that?! No! I can't handle that! Ahhhh, I'm so scared!


So I talked with Carol. Let me restate, so, I confessed to Carol. That, though I don't think I'm afraid of success, I think I'm afraid of success. I went through the senarios, complete with great gesticulations. She looked at me, calmly blinked and said, "I don't think you need to be creating obstacles here." Yes, we laughed. Holycow... I think in some ways, since the FCP, my Fears or perhaps my denial of Fears have become rather elaborate. Again, my gratitude for a friend and confessor who pulls no punches, is profound. 


So I continue... today I began pinning the last work I wish to submit for the show. I should be able to finish sewing it in a weeks time and then hopefully get it photographed along with the other pieces and send off my submission before Christmas. Very exciting! And, if conflicts arise, I'll meet them in the moment. As for this moment, I am very very happy to see a next step right infront of me and to take that step, ready for what comes after that.

So, yeah, Fear is a hard habit to break. This occurred to me this morning after meditation. Odd thing to think about after meditation, I know. For some reason I came out of it thinking again about that quote, the life you want is waiting just behind Fear. And I thought, am I waivering now that it's been over a couple months since I set the Fear Chair down? Am I burdened again by Fear? Do I sit out on life because of Fear? Have I backslid?






Did I type that out loud?




Well, hey, I guess I am human. AND Fear IS hard to break. As I said in my FCP posts, Fear is also insidious. It is also primal. Years ago, I addressed anger issues, confronted my Anger, healed my Anger. Anger is a tough response to overcome also, but Anger is not a primal emotion. Anger was not genetically programmed into me through thousands of years of survival necessity. Anger was not born in me, it was my CHOICE. Something happened, I chose to feel Anger about it. Therefore in the healing process, I simply learned to change my response.


Fear too is a choice but it is different than Anger. The response of Fear is not so much a choice, Fear HAPPENS. The choice is in the response to Fear happening. It's like the difference between alcoholism and an eating dissorder. An alcoholic just stays away from the trigger, alcohol to heal (which by the way is VERY complex and hard, I am not belittling the difficulty here). Someone with an eating dissorder can't just stay away from food. People need to eat. A person with an eating dissorder needs to eat but can't give in to the trigger. It's a balance. It's a lifetime of everyday, every food reference and meal, watching the response.


Every time Fear is triggered, we must respond, or watch our response and choose determinedly to walk through it if we don't want Fear running our lives. And lately I've not been watching so closely. I've been skirting my Fear rather than walking through it. Trying to go around it. Ok, avoiding it.




I've got some more work to do on my website and I've put it off all week. Time to step up to the table. From the movie Auntie Mame,  "Life is a banquet and too many damned fools are starving to death!" 'Tis time I hold myself accountable again. Time to step up, through that Fear and fill myself with the abundance that awaits!


Whew.... !

Don't know where I heard it recently but I love it: "Everything you want your life to be is right there hiding behind Fear." 'nough said...

Just over two weeks ago the husband of a friend and former co-worker passed away suddenly. I didn't know him well. Many people did however. The church was standing room only and those who arrived at the time the funeral service was slated to begin found themselves standing on the portico or stairs or in the parking lot. 


Today I got together with a friend and fellow artist. We work in different mediums. We come from different generations. Different genders. Many significant differences. And we share many things in common as well. Such a combination often leads to deep conversations mulling the questions and challenges of our artistic journeys let alone journeys as human beings. Inspiring and hope-filling, these talks are of the ilk that carry the odd or the magnificent gem of insight, or two dozen. I love these. They make me feel like I am LIVING a life worth living. Today I heard myself saying "loss is not a bad thing." In our culture we shun it and run from loss at every turn. I imagine there might be those who would argure vehemently  -- if not run and hide from that kind of a statement. "Loss is actually a good thing." I pressed on. It is how we best learn. It moves us forward -- when we allow it to be felt. When we run from or hide from or deny loss, we become mired in the thing which we cannot leave behind. We stop.


This isn't at all to say the death of my friend's husband was a good thing. It's unimaginable to me to lose a partner of 41 years. My thoughts are along the line that loss happens. Loss is simply and undeniably part of life. It is in the meaning of the death, just as it is in the meaning of the lived experience that the gems are found. The golden nuggets of insight and awareness are buried right in the center of the loss. If we run away or hide, we lose the opportunity to see the gifts of the loss.


I've experienced death since I was very young but my earliest great loss came with the death of my sister when I was fourteen. It was a sudden and unexpected death. There were many extenuating circumstances which made processing her death extremely complex for every member of my family. For me, I hardly ate or spoke for a week. When it came time to go to the wake, (open casket) I was mute and barely responsive. I sat at the table while family members gathered to drive to the funeral home. I remember noises. I guess people were talking to me but I couldn't respond. I was so deep inside the loss I was practically unreachable. Someone put a shot glass full of wiskey infront of me (a rural midwest last ditch cure-all) to "calm me down" before leaving. I stared at it. I didn't want to be made calm or numb or drunk. I wanted to experience this loss and to talk about it and understand it, or at the very least ponder it in it's depths, in MY depths. I don't know who drank the shot.


In a culture where we fear aging to the tune of billions of dollars a year in methods to hide or stave off its symptoms (isn't aging about loss?), talking about the gifts of loss let alone the gifts of death is pretty radical. But I think my sister's death, while grievously tragic on SO many levels, gave me beautiful gifts as well, just as her life did. So too the death of my friend's husband taught me to practice smiling more because this man was rarely without a smile and that memory alone (among millions for those who knew him well) marked him a beautiful example for us all to BE happy in this life, in our work and in our play. For this life is temporary and all too soon lost; and it is ours to decide how we will mark it.


So, the loss of a relationship or the loss of an opportunity, or position, or friend or favorite whatever, or the loss of our youth,... it's all challenging. Loss hurts. Loss shakes us and can hollow us out. But loss never, never comes without gifts as well to heal, to fill the gaps, to strengthen and beautify that which remains of our selves and our lives. 


Loss is perhaps the ultimate experience of the convergence of Fear and Love. Explosive with shock waves and all.


So, today is November 24th. For 52 years I've known it to be the anniversary of my birth. Tonight I realize it is now also marked as the day the decision to not inidict the Ferguson police officer, Darren Wilson was passed down. My daughter is in St. Louis visiting her father. So I am thinking of her as well; but I realize I am thinking of her as a white mother thinks of her white daughter's safety. If my daughter had darker skin, the list of safety concerns would be much longer in this country. And the list would have been much longer FOR much longer actually. Statistically and as confirmed in today's decision, my daughter is far safer from police officers than her African American friends simply because of the color of skin. Still.


To Kill A Mockingbird has been referenced a few times in conversations today. We have come so far; and yet we have so far to go. I attended a meeting today at the University in town where we continue to plan for the MLK Day events in January. Tonight I think too of the people on that committee who have far more riding on the decision today than I do, though, really, this being home to all of us, we all stand to lose a great deal in such decisions and the consequences short and longterm. This year's national theme for celebrating the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is centered on the great deal of work yet to be done. Amen.




"Insidious Fear," that should be a character's name in a novel. He or she would lurk alot, pretending to be busy elswhere; and show up late or early to functions he or she wasn't even invited to. Sounds plausible.


I have not written in a week because I have not known what to write; and in that time I have continued to encounter Fear and Love and to learn from these encounters. I simply believe Fear and Love are what I need to be writing about. Realizing this, I am returned. Tonight I am a bit stunned by the news of Ferguson. Tomorrow I will write about Fear and Love and Life and Death. There's been a lot of everything going on of late. Tonight I will be stunned, tomorrow I will write.

Not counting the days any longer. Wow! I've begun stepping forward into my new blog. I figure I will quite often include items related to Fear and to Love as I talk about my art adventures. Thus the new title of the Blog as we move beyond "The Fear Chair Project."


Yesterday was officially "discombobulated day." So I rested. Today, I attacked my files on my computer, addressed SOME of the issues on my website, and finished up the last bits in my second series of fiber collage prayer flags. It was a day of facing things I'd put off. Clearing the "shoulds" out of my head. Still much to do. My computer died midway through work on the website. I need to snap some photos of the second series so I can shop them around galleries. And my photo files on the computer will take eons to organize, not just a day. But today was brilliant. I am very grateful to be moving forward. I think I needed to let go of the FCP completely so that I can move on. 


Which reminds me, I also need to get an artist photo and bio to the charity the FC is going to for their fundraising event program. Eek. Starting tomorrow's list. Very exciting to be excited about getting my art out into the world. This has always been a bit sticky for me. So much has happened in the past couple months to nearly jetison me into my next phase as an artist. Little bit scary still but focusing on the Love of this time in my life! So much to Love in life right now! 


Best be off and write up a list of to dos for to morrow... 

Post chair carrying Day 51


What was I doing mid-point in the day marking the exact amount of time equal to the amount of time I carried the chair? I was helping to break down the local library booksale. Boxing unsold books and folding up tables. Moving everything back into storage. A few people tried to tell me to wait for help moving the tables or let someone else move the shelves or boxes. I am a carpenter/general contracter in addition to being an artist. I tear buildings down and build them up again. When my husband and I built our three story house ourselves, we joked that he was the brains and I was the braun. New to contracting, at that time, he told me where to move a stack of lumber and I did. We figure I've moved our entire house -- at least once. The thing is I am small. 5'4" and around 110 lbs. Oh, and I have gray hair. But, raised in a big family on a farm in Minnesota, I learned to like work or I would be miserable. So, one of my favorite things to do is move stuff (another favorite thing to do is digging, yes with a shovel). I don't belong to a gym. I do work for my workouts most of the time. Today I'd hoped to get some yardwork done but the 25 degree breezy day just didn't cooperate. So the opportunity to help out friends who'd been working all week by lending a hand to speed up the booksale take-down was just perfect all the way around. 


So, marking the end of my FCP officially here is about as anticlimactic as the decision to stop carrying the chair. It's just another day doing what I do. Again, I will incarnate the blog somehow on my website but as yet I am not certain what form it will take. I am certain Fear and Love will be discussed from time to time, whatever the main theme. The FCP was/is life-changing on so many levels. The lessons of these past 101 days will come up often as I live my life, I am sure. And of course, life will offer many the opportunity to re-learn or to learn new lessons as well.


Funny, I still don't know if anyone is even reading this....


If you are check out tomorrow and see what the universe, god and I come up with! I, myself can't wait to find out! :)

Post chair carrying day 50


Here we are. Tomorrow afternoon will mark the same amount of time without the chair as the amount of days I carried it. Wow. Brilliant. Beautiful. Joyous. Quiet. Anti-climactic. Simply done.


It's Friday. I talked a bit with friends today. Carol, whom I've written about was one of them. Talked with my sister. Talked with my daughter. My husband. My dog. Heard myself saying this has been one of the most notable weeks of my life. Not because of the end of the FCP or post-FCP, but because of where the FCP has taken me, which is to this moment. All week. A week of moments. Not just the FCP brought about this sense of presence, of course, but other experiences along these 100+ days as well; and then too all of the experiences in my 51+ years as well I suppose. It's been one of those times one notices her entire life led her to this point.


This week has been continuous moments of presence, mindfulness, allowing. Of course the moments were mixed with thousands (millions?) of experiences of being human; but never before have I felt so present in those experiences. A strand of pearls. Every moment precious in it's own existence all the more beautiful joined along the strand. There is still effort and likely will be all my life, effort and discipline, learning more and more about how to be present with myself and others and All -- including of course Fear and Love. I am encouraged though in this moment and inspired and grateful, mostly grateful. Most humbly grateful...