Back to Work
It has been…
* Very kind words of support and encouragement
* A really really good cry
* An hour long phone call with a very wise woman
* An evening with one too many gin cocktails listening to Abba Gold with a girlfriend
* Twenty miles on my bicycle
…and many other small moments that ultimately all added up to a beautiful week, despite some big bumps.
And now, there is much good news to share…
* Starting off with having my work featured in the current issue of Somerset Studio (shown above). I also have articles and features teed up for upcoming issues of Somerset Life, Somerset Studio, Artful Blogging and Art Journaling, including the story of Book #52 of the 100 Books Project.
* I'm a Guest Curator over at Crescendoh.com this week, so head over there for new inspiring links every day this week as well as my Art Saves story right here. Can I just say? Jenny Doh is a powerhouse, and I am honored to play a small part in her new venture.
* Speaking of Crescendoh, a new line of rubber stamps with inspiring words & sentiments from yours truly will be released next month – stay tuned!
* My latest entry in the Wish Studio is right here.
* There's still time to register for the WishFull Virtual Art Retreat. I'm teaching a course entitled Today: Begin. I hope to see you there!
* And now that I mention the words Today: Begin, today is, in fact, the day I am officially getting started on my next series of work. My inspirations for this round include Jordan, a woman named Yara, Mary Oliver and Arabic graffiti. Time to make a mess.
Lanterns
There are times in life when the wagons must circle round – when loved ones gather, open their doors, and come in to do the things that need to be done. When sudden tragedy strikes or bad news falls upon a home, things like home-cooked meals, errands, advice and the sharing of stories carry us through. These are times when the more hands that are held together, the better, when the path ahead is made less harrowing because it isn't being walked on alone.
Then there are times when we are called upon to take part of our journey alone – when there is nothing to be done but take each step as solidly as possible, even though it feels like the road is made of broken glass and there are no shoes to be found anywhere. It is dark, with strange noises all around, but on this part of the journey there is nothing anyone can really do….the tears simply must be shed, the path must be forged, the loss and the anger and the fear must be felt.
~
Most of the time I know that my value and my worth are not tied to what anyone else – even blood-related family members – think of me. Most of the time I know that any actions that have been taken against me by anyone have nothing to do with me. Most of the time I am able to stand confidently in the knowledge that I am my own person and not doomed to repeat the depth and breadth of estrangement, isolation and abandonment that runs rampant in my family tree. Most of the time I know this.
But sometimes it all gets to be too much, and I get tired, and I get angry, and I grow weary of the idea that after all the work I have done in service to the opening of my heart, there always seems to be more work to do. It feels so silly to write that – to speak of having to work so hard at keeping my heart soft and open, but some days that's what it is. Some days it is effort and commitment and a very focused refusal to build walls and barbed wire; some days those walls are mighty tempting.
~
It is those parts of the journey that I must walk alone, and it is not easy for me to communicate to those around me what this feels like – not easy to share how weak and vulnerable I feel. Because I know this is ultimately my own work, I pull away, curl inward, and try to face my demons as resolutely as I can.
But this is what I am learning – that even on those parts of my journey that I must walk along alone, it is good and right and proper to let it be known I am in a place of darkness. Because all week long, as I have walked along this path, lanterns have been lit along my way, shedding light on a ground that isn't actually made of broken glass, helping me see which way I'm headed. One by one, friends, loved ones and strangers have stepped outside their homes and hung a lantern in a tree, or by their front gate, or right in the middle of the road. No one had to do anything dramatic, go out of their way or come up with any kind of magic formula or solution – all that was needed was light, and that has been enough.
~
Imagine being on a road, in a space so dark you can't see your hand in front of you, but then one by one you see sparkles of light ahead of you. And while you don't see exactly when anyone first comes out to hang the lights, you do see each person as they head back inside, giving you what you need as delicately and quietly as possible. As you get closer to each light, you see notes of encouragement, a flower, a charm – tokens and treasures meant to remind you that although this part of the journey is yours to walk along alone, you are not alone, and you are being held. For all these torch bearers have faith in you, and this makes up for the faith you've lost in yourself, and as you see yourself through these eyes, you are saved. There may still be work to do, but your path is filled with the warm glow of lanterns, guiding you, leading you, showing you the way home.
~
In other words, thank you.
Five Things
[Photo: DAVID GANNON/AFP/Getty Images]
1. I would love to go to the Berlin Reunion!
2. The Bring Yourself Writing E-courses are adventures in creative writing, and their new course is called Handmade Writer. It starts Monday, April 12th.
3. I loooove Lee Meszaros's Be Proud Merit Badges.
4. 4 Simple Principles of Getting to Completion
5. Edizioni - ohh-la-la…
I Have to be Honest…
[Standing at The Jordan River]
I could use some prayers right about now.
Crush
Saturday night my husband and I were on our way to see Alice in Wonderland, but when we passed by the Aero Theater, the marquee announced a screening of The Graduate with its star Katharine Ross there for a Q & A. My husband saw this and immediately did a u-turn, changing our plans for the night in an instant.
We saw a film we adore on the big screen with a full crowd – falling in love with this 1967 classic even more – and then got to bask in the glow of Ms. Ross – my husband especially.
Here in Los Angeles, we see celebrities all the time, and most of the time my husband couldn’t care less, so it was fun to see him just a wee bit starstruck, excited to see an actress he’ll clearly always have a mad crush on.
And really, can you blame him?
The Moment
It was actually a few steps back when I caught my first glimpse of the Treasury at Petra. After walking through a narrow canyon formed by rock the colors of deep mustard, rust, and blazing orange for a mile or so, the first bit of the Treasury that can be seen is part of the top. A few steps further and the perspective above comes into view, an image that has been photographed a zillion times over – one of the most iconic images of a city a group of Arabian nomads called the Nabataeans built around the first century B.C. I had dreamed of this moment for years – tried to imagine what it would be like to stand in front of this structure built into the walls of a canyon and then explore all the other details of an area that goes on as far as the eye can see. We only had about a day and half to soak in a place that really needs a week or more, but I’m not complaining. It was this moment – the moment when I took the photo above – that was my reward, a moment that did not disappoint.
I am back home now, still not entirely over jet lag, a husband home sick, groceries to buy, work to do, deeply troubling family issues still to resolve. In other words, that moment is past now and I have slowly wound my way back into the day-to-day of my life in Santa Monica. But my day-to-day now has this new piece, this new detail; like the bracelet I purchased in the nook of an antique shop in Amman, it is here with me now, adding an entirely new dimension to the background of my days. I rode two airplanes, a van and a horse to get to that spot, and then I made my way back home, and even though all the dust from Petra has been washed out of my hair, the memory is lodged in my consciousness permanently, guiding me to my next ideas, dreams and challenges.
While it would be over-dramatic to say that moment changed my life (or maybe it did – it is likely too early to tell), it did lock another puzzle piece into place. To be perfectly honest, I feel like my bank account of Dreams Come True is bursting at the seams already, but I still somehow manage to forget the immense power of these moments. I have written much about the smaller moments, the moments that look ordinary and worn out, perhaps sometimes trying to deflect too much attention away from these grander instances when I am standing smack in the middle of a longed for experience. At the same time, I have also made it my mission to encourage the world to pursue their dreams and create a meaningful life; I built a business around the idea, and I continue to cheer people on as much as I possibly can. But have I written enough about these moments? About the exact instance I looked up – not expecting to see the Treasury just yet – and saw it peek through the canyon? The moment it came into view and I immediately looked away, tears in my eyes and heart pounding, wanting so badly to stop the clock and squeeze every bit of emotion I could out of that millisecond of time in the history of my life.
All I could think as I walked towards the opening in the canyon to stand in full view of the Treasury was, “I am here…I am here,” not quite believing I had managed to get myself to a Middle Eastern country surrounded my all kinds of tension and chaos, to this place that was once a thriving metropolis so long ago as to be unfathomable. It is not like the high of a drug – an experience that becomes a craving, something that I live for in blindness to all beauty in my everyday life – it is more a reminder of the expansiveness of possibility in the world: What is possible? Anything! On the same note, it provides a bittersweet recognition of how strange the story of a life sometimes is…how it can be easier to travel 7000 miles away to one of the most dangerous regions of the world and return home safely than to open one single door of communication between myself and a member of my family. How I felt more seen and understood by people I had never met before this trip than someone I have known my entire life.
It is dichotomies like those that I love exploring. I cannot help but turn the bright side of a coin over to its darker face, wanting to understand every possible facet of meaning in these moments. Because to only expose myself to one or the other, I lose the opportunity to fully understand and embrace all that I am given. And it is not about wanting to downplay the magnificence of the moment of realizing a dream – it is not about wanting to hang a dark cloud over it or smother its voice – it is about seeing all the feelings and thoughts it inspires, and instead of judging them as good, bad, happy or sad, I simply sit with all of them, knowing they all have their place in yet another extraordinary story in the journey of my life.
[The first photos from Petra are here.]
Five Things
Oh yes – don't you know it – this week's Five Things is more about Jordan…
1. The Ammarin Bedouin Camp is nestled in the canyons shown above – a place that will take you back in time and inspire you to laze on colorful pillows, drink tea and relax for hours on end.
2. We traveled and learned from Zohrab, an inspiring, passionate photographer.
3. For all you marathoners out there, check out the Dead Sea Marathon.
4. Theater lover? Try the Amman International Theater Festival.
5. And if you go to Jerash, have lunch at Lebanese House – yum!
6. …and an unrelated-to-Jordan Bonus #6: My new "You Are…" postcard sets are here!
Radiance
“Your powerful radiance is burning the entire universe, and filling it with splendor…"
~Bhagavad Gita
Found
Found on my walk yesterday.
List of potential pets?
Farm animals?
Stuffed animal wish list?
There is so Much to Share
I downloaded all of my photos from Jordan yesterday, and as I scrolled through them I became immediately overwhelmed, wondering how on earth I would be able to organize, format and post more than 1500 photos. Although who am I kidding – all 1500 images aren't worth posting, but that's still a big number to sort through. So it will likely take some time for me to shuffle through the deck, pick my favorites and figure out the best way to share the stories associated with these pictures, not to mention I will likely get on your nerves before too long as this blog is about to become an All Jordan, All the Time network.
It has long been a dream of mine to see Jordan – Petra in particular – and it was one of those dreams that always felt just out of my reach. I have traveled all over the world, but the idea of bandying about in the Middle East – in a country that borders Egypt, Israel, Syria, Saudi Arabia and Iraq – seemed unlikely. A nice dream to have, but not one to really hope or plan for. But I really should have known better, because I felt the same way about Cuba, and an opportunity to go there fell in my lap in March 2006, and two weeks later I was on a plane to Havana.
When will I learn?
Once again, a wish I had tucked away in a remote part of my brain – where it was safe from my deepest longings – came to life unexpectedly thanks to Tara Bradford, who decided it was time to share her love for a country she has strong ties to. She gathered together an extraordinary group of travelers, and in the course of one week we hit just about every major hot spot in Jordan. I'm not usually a fan of such go-go-go journeys, but it was impossible not to enjoy every single moment surrounded by such a passionate, generous, courageous, lighthearted group. I am still in awe of the fact that not only did I get to go to a part of the world I've dreamed of for years, but I got to see and experience it with them.
Sometimes my good fortune overwhelms me to the point of tears, and in this case it makes me want to howl at the moon.
I honestly don't know where to begin. Two of my fellow travelers – Rebecca and Gillian – have already posted two wonderful essays about this trip, and what I love most about this is that I am now getting to know them in an entirely new way. There has been much discussion in the blogosphere about all the ways we share who we are in our blogs, and how a blog, by its nature, is always going to present an incomplete picture, whether we intend it that way or not. Not to mention that certain perspectives, ideas and thoughts aren't capable of coming to life until after we're back home, bags unpacked, jet lag still lingering. So as I try to process and share all the wonder and beauty of my time in Jordan, I will also be savoring all the ways everyone else on this trip processes and shares their memories.
On our last day in Jordan, our brilliant, generous, beautiful driver William explained to all of us how we helped him see Jordan in new ways. I get weepy thinking of this, knowing that after all the extraordinary gifts he gave us, that we, too, opened his heart in ways I don't think he had expected. It is easy to walk by the same building everyday and not notice it – to consider it simply part of the background of my everyday life. But the instant I walk by that same building with someone who has never seen it – someone who perhaps notices an interesting crack in the window or the color of its walls – I am given the gift of an entirely new perspective. All nine of us saw different things as we traveled around Amman, Petra, Aqaba and Jerash, and I am looking forward to seeing Jordan through everyone else's eyes as much as I am looking forward to sharing my own stories.
On my just-under-24-hour journey home, my mind kept replaying image after image after image of a trip that included being the object of the most intense curiosity of my life on a public beach in Aqaba, talking to women involved in the Bani Hamida Weaving Project, exploring Petra, eating enough hummus to feed an elephant and smoking a hookah pipe. My heart and mind are crowded with so many moments and memories, each one clamoring for attention, wanting to be distilled to its essence, expressed and then released into the world on wings of gold. I must now ask all of these stories to be still, and be patient, and trust that in time they will each be given due attention, whether through a photograph, a work of art, a story or maybe even a dance.
There is so much to share, and only so much time, but I will do my best. This is my promise to you, dear Jordan, for you have blessed me in ways even I have yet to discover.
[My first round of photos are right here.]
