I can't believe how long it's been since I was here. The grass is green, I'm contemplating seedlings and manure for the garden, and already anticipating the festival times to be had in the coming summer months. The last time I wrote anything I think it was close to -20 outside, and summer was a word that had lost all meaning. Green? What are green things...?
I have had a 'reformation' of goals in the last while, and realize how important it is both for me and for my practice and clients that I continue doing this writing work. I want to make this work my main focus in the coming years--working with international clients in the way that I was doing more dominantly a few years back--and having a platform such as this is so important.
I'm back, and shall be here to stay.
The nice thing is that I have been off the social media and interweb element of life in a bigger way lately not because things have been hectic and crazy and not allowing for such stuff, but because there have been so many wonderful projects happening in person within my community that I haven't really needed to 'get out there'. Despite being a backwards, funny and often slightly depressing little town, Williams Lake continually offers me opportunities I am baffled at, and the people here are truly magical, and the last few months have been an ongoing experience of that.
However, I can see myself moving even further into the woods in the next while, and am pretty sure that such a lifestyle is going to make me crave connection with the bigger world.
Oh, internet. I do love you for this.
But for now, the short and sweet focus of today's post? Vulnerability. A constant focus of mine (both for my own practice and that of my clients) and something that I understand in a different way every day, vulnerability--and the active practice of being vulnerable--has been my intended focus of 2015. And April seems to be shaping up to be the month that I reeeeally put it out there.
Tomorrow I will have the first gallery show of my art, exposing myself creatively in a way which I crave wholeheartedly, but which simultaneously makes me want to crawl under a rock and hide. I'm ready for it, yes I am, and yet there is still a litany of questions parading around my mind at about 4 in the morning these days:
What if people don't like them? What if it's boring? What if I'm really not good enough to be doing this at all?? What if I'm actually delusional and this is all really, really bad stuff?
I know these questions to be normal and good indicators of where I'm testing my own limitations of self. I welcome them. And yet they are intense, and I'm looking forward to letting them go fully in the near future. It is certainly good to question yourself so as to ensure that you've not skipping into some kind of narcissistic self-absorption where there is no critical process applied to creative work, but are these questions really helpful? No, they are not. They are remnants of my wee wounded self who is quite dead set on staying small in this arena.
And then...I have booked two singing performances this month (GAAAHHHH), as well as sitting on a panel to discuss Shamanic practices and the search for peace, and then facilitating group work within a Women's spirituality weekend. The last two I'm relatively unphased by, but the singing...this is going to be big.
But, again, I am so excited to break these barriers and go beyond what has been my restricted and rather tiny comfort zone for a very long time. I have no desire to restrict any part of my being or creative force because of doubt, fear or personal judgement, and in order to actually live that I'm going to have to go to these places that scare the shit out of me. It's a very good thing.
If you happen to be in Williams Lake sometime this month please stop by the Station House gallery on MacKenzie and have a look at my work. I would love the feedback. If you happen to be in Williams Lake on Friday April 18th and don't have a penis (no penises allowed), stop by the Women's spirituality evening at WLSS from 6-9. I'll be singing/trying not to puke on stage somewhere between 7 and 9.
Nice to be back.