ORIGINAL BLISS

Evolution

I have been so stagnant lately. Sitting around on my ass waiting for something to happen, for something to be brought to me, for inspiration.

What that means is, I have been sitting around in my skivvies watching episodes of 'Breaking Bad' back to back and not being what I call "creatively productive."

I have forced myself to sit down and write my next novel, Time Walker, but that ends up being sitting down and staring at the words I have already written, maybe moving them around a little, until I give up and go back to watching 'Breaking Bad'.

This is extremely frustrating for me because I have a complete story all laid out in my head, but for some reason I am having a hard time telling it right now.

I could force it—figuratively stick my finger down my throat and vomit Time Walker out—but sorry, that is no fun for me. And the truth of it is, if it doesn't turn me on, I ain't doin' it.

As I was wrestling with my artistic angst one day, it occurred to me, the Creative cannot be forced to manifest. It happens naturally, in its own sweet time; not like a big bang where it all appears in a perfect instant, but in the slow drip of evolution.

My soul has been telling my ego to back the fuck off and give her some space. Sure, laying on the couch for the complete second season of a kickass television show may look like I am wasting time, or it could be I am incubating, or learning how to tell an even more amazing story from it.

Time Walker will get written. It is all there.

In the meantime, I will find ways that allow the Creative to just happen, whether it is through writing, journaling, photography, or finger painting.

Namaste,

Shannan

A Temper Tantrum in Blue and Gray

Hello old friends and readers. It has been a very long time. Way too long for me, that's for sure. 

The goal was to stop everything else and just focus on writing my book. I thought it would be a good diversion - to keep my head engaged as I maneuvered my way through the wreckage of my life. But now I do not think that was a wise choice. By sticking my head into the fiction of my novel, I lost touch with the reality of my heart. I ignored my emotional voice.

Blogging, art journaling, and journal writing have always helped me keep my inner space spruced up. It forces me to look at the emotional clutter and make decisions about what to do with it. What is this about? Can I get rid of this now? Can I move on? Can I transform it into something beautiful?

Needless to say, without that outlet, my innards are lookin' like holy hell.

I thought it would be so nice just to shut out all the pain and suffering... to come down with an amnesia that blocks out the memories. But if they aren't really dealt with - YOU ARE DOOMED TO REPEAT THEM!!!!

Ah yes... and that was the inspiration for my posting today. I was tootling along on cloud 9, really happy about the progress I have been making in my recovery from a disastrous relationship. Thrilled to be meeting new people and doing new things. EXCITED about the possibilities and the future.

But underneath that glam and glittery surface.... eee gads! It is dark and murky and slimy. EW.

And all that denial, grief, anger, and confusion - feeds a monster. And then when I least expect it, it surfaces and spews that nasty crap out her blow hole.

Yeah... she's an ugly bitch.

So, in order to slay the monster, I have to starve her out. I have to, like really, get to work. Stop denying the pain and grief and anger. Stop trying to hide it all in the closet and under the bed, so I can look "pretty" all the time.

And while I do that, I am going to start balancing my novel writing with a little play - some finger painting, some scribbling, and some temper tantrums in blues and gray.

Okay.... and maybe some pink, and green, and bright golden yellow!

Namaste,

CHEZ

 

 

 

In A Perfect Storm... Perfect Peace.

"Ethereal" Mixed Media Collage, National Geaogaphic Art Journal Series, Shannan Sinclair

I consider myself a pretty strong person. I mean, don't we all see ourselves in that light? After all the pain, heartache and suffering that we go through, when we come through at the other end of it, don't we think, "Damn! I can't believe I made it through that!"

Well, I have a confession. Sometimes.... I don't feel that strong. Oh, I may look like a B.A.M.F. who's got the tiger by the tail. But when I am alone, and trying to hide under my covers... mmmm not so much.

Sometimes, the pain is agony.

Sometimes I feel utterly alone and completely broken.

But I have also experienced something A-M-A-Z-I-N-G in that.

There have been several times in the past couple of months, where I have been in those moments. I have nothing left in me. No fight. No spark. Empty.

And in the very moment of the deepest dispair a strange and perfect peace embraces me, fills me and refreshes my soul.

Just when I think - I can not go on any further... I am restored.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Follow Your Heart - OR DIE!!!!!

So I watched Oprah today.

I don't usually watch Oprah. I have nothing against her... I just don't like sappy, overdramatized, preachy things. I like authenticity. And although she preaches authenticity - it doesn't feel authentic to me.

I want REAL. Like, really really REAL.

I like my sunshine with some clouds...

my flowers in the dirt...

I like my tears... not to be a pretty, little well-up with one sliding down my cheek.... I like tears with snot and sobs and black, mascara eyes that leave a salty rind encrusted on my face.

But I watched Oprah today, featuring Tom Shadyac, the director of Ace Ventura, Bruce Almighty, Nutty Professor, who gave up the so-f-ing-rich-and-successful life, for a REAL one.

It hooked me. It touched me. And it reminded me of several things about myself that I have let go to seed.

I haven't been living my purpose. I know my purpose. I yearn and crave to be fulfilling it. BUT I continuously put it aside and give my energy away to purposes that are not from my own heart. I get distracted and off-track.

Oprah said today.... "Each day we live not doing our heart's desire... we die a little."

That resonated with me. I know that little inkling of death. I feel it when I close my eyes at the end of a day that I have been completely out of touch with my soul's reason for being.

So I am putting a little Posty on my bathroom mirror that reads - "Follow Your Heart - OR DIE!"

Every morning... as I floss my gums... I will repeat it in my head and go into my day following my heart.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Catch Your Wings

   

 

Wash Away - Mat Costa

 

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings
Heavens high, so you fly
Catch your dreams in the sky

But the glaciers have frozen your feet
I can't wait for eternity
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday
Maybe we'll catch up someday

 

Sun it sinks out of view
Stars they shine changing hue

But bright lights have blinded your sights
They can't adjust when day turns to night
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
But maybe we'll come back someday
Maybe we'll come back someday

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
Maybe we'll come back someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
As I watch them wash away
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...

 

Namaste,

C H E Z

Dear Diary....

I am craving good times, with good friends...

 

here are some notes on a new meditation technique I am practicing...

 

I liked this list of "25 Things Every Woman Should Know" that I found in Elle and decided to save it forever and add some of my own.

My favorites: #9, #12, #24

and my own: "Trust in your faith and remember who you are."

 

I have been craving living water as much as I do air to breath...

 

I have been reading Keats...

 

and Oscar Wilde...

 

I have so much to say, but don't have the language to say it.

So I lay it all down in you,

in paint and in glue.

 

In symbols only my soul understands...

 

and ideas that I don't want to forget.

 

Namaste,

C H E Z

Theos Ek Mechanes

"In some Greek dramas, a god showed up out of nowhere to cause a miraculous twist at a crucial point in the tale. This divine intrusion was referred to as theos ek mechanes, literally "god from a machine," because the symbolic figure of the god was lowered onto the stage by a crane. In modern usage, the term is Latin ~ deus ex machina ~ and refers to a story in which a sudden event brings about a resolution to a problem."

Rob Brezsny

"PRONOIA is the antidote for paranoia - How The Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You With Blessings"

I found this little nugget during my morning hunt for inspiration while the coffee was brewing. It reminded me that I need to leave room on my stage for God to drop down from a crane.

Can I get a little drumroll with my divine intervention?

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

The Up/Down, Roundy Round

Rather than reaching for the up or striving for the high...

maybe we should be trying to find neutral.

The Buddha and the Christ say, "No duh, Shannan."

 

 

I never said I was a fast learner.

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

Let's Pretend

Oh sure....we get our nails done.

Fancy fingers and dazzling toes.

Our hair did.

Highlights and hues.

$500 purses covered in "C".

7 inch "come fuck me" shoes.

But really?

Who are we fooling?

We are all still working girls under the sheen and gleam.

Kairos

I keep feeling an urge to stop.

I have labeled this slow down, my suppressed energy, as "depression".

I feel like I am dancing a very, very slow dance... like the last dance of the prom... a barely moving sway.

This is not my normal tune. I think of myself as more 80's pop; Erasure, Howard Jones, ABC, and B52's... lots of hip shaking and the Carlton goin' on.

This current tempo feels off to me. I automatically judge it as "something is wrong" and have been trying to push myself out of it. I am trying to boogie to a drone.

The syncopation makes me feel even worse.

We expect the ebbs and flows of our lives to be coordinated. We try to force the ebbs into our schedule. Why can't I feel slow and melancholy on a Sunday? And really... I can only afford to give that feeling about 10 minutes, cause I have a lot of shit to do and some goals to achieve.

God laughs.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose."

The sun rises and then sets. Tides are high and low. The moon waxes and wanes. Seeds sprout, bear fruit, then wither. The Universe has its own cadence.

If I fall into time with the Universe, allowing myself the inhale... a long, deep breath... maybe it is all just fine.

The Greeks had two words for time. Chronos, chronological, sequential time... and kairos, the supreme moment, an undetermined period of time in which something special happens, a time of destiny.

If I am always trying to tap and jig, I could be missing out on the turning point of my destiny.

This could be my special moment.

I do not have to DO anything. In fact, anything I do in this moment may screw up the symphony.

I can slow down.

Better yet, I CAN stop.

And that could be just what the Universe ordered.

Namaste,

C H E Z