Utah Posts Addendum

I found something I thought was really awesome in rereading the fourth week's chapter in The Artist's Way (I'm supposed to reread it to complete the very last task of the course). It really hit me, because it basically described and foreshadowed my experiences of going back to Utah (weeks nine and ten) and my artist date on USU campus (week eleven). That period was all explained!

"Shifts in taste and perception frequently accompany shifts in identity...By tossing out the old and unworkable, we make way for the new and suitable...When the search-and-discard impulse seizes you, two crosscurrents are at work: the old you is leaving and grieving, while the new you celebrates and grows strong. As with any rupture, there is both tension and relief...Long-frozen feelings thaw, melt, cascade, flood, and often overrun their container (you). You may find yourself feeling volatile and changeable. You are.

"...Think of yourself as an accident victim walking away from a crash: your old life has crashed and burned; your new life isn't apparent yet. You may feel yourself to be temporarily without a vehicle. Just keep walking (83).

"...Many of these [changes and shifts] will not be recognizable at first as healing. In fact, they may seem crazy and even destructive. At best, they will seem eccentric...You may well be experiencing a sense of both bafflement and faith. You are no longer stuck, but you cannot tell where you are going" (84-85).

Interesting stuff for that obvious period of change and seeking the new. I see it reflective of other times of change in my life, as well.

Things I Am Not Allowed #2: Casual Sex

The second item I listed in this series was, "Sex every beautiful thing in sight." Now, I don't sit around or browse around and just wish I could bone everyone around me. But for an honest creative recovery, I should be completely honest, and in complete honesty, sometimes I have my moments, though that is not typically in the forefront of my mind when I meet people. Still, I am human. And for selecting this series, I was going for unfiltered, first to mind -- not over-thought.

So, I took to my doodling method of faith with a swish here, line there, zigzag across that. And lo and behold, before me I presented my attitude toward sex and having it with every beautiful person that crossed my path.

...Did I mention it was a fairly abstract representation? Let's browse it. Remember, this is only my attitude.

The entire picture is a stage, with curtains being drawn back and the front edge outlined at the bottom. Sex is a performance. There are aspects of showmanship and ability, even in the chase, or game of love. Some make it such a shallow thing that it is all show and loses its savor and mocks that which is honest, true, and pure.

Things I Am Not Allowed #1: Romance, Dear To My Heart!!!

I've never considered myself a visual artist and still don't, despite my recent found affinity for doodling. However, as I recently discussed, I discovered it as a communication with myself, even my deeper, subconscious self, to express and release how I was feeling and to bring things more to my attention, similar to the morning pages (and other creative pursuits of mine).

One striking task from the eighth week of The Artist's Way, though I admittedly got to it much later, is to list five things you are not allowed to do, such as kill your boss, scream in church, or go outside naked. Next, put that thing on paper, whether in writing or something visual, and then put music on and dance it.

The first item on my list was something romantic but very specific. IT was something I had been casually trying to avoid, so it didn't overload or overwhelm me emotionally -- keeping a cool head to not agonize myself or look like a fool or screw myself over. You could say that at times I tried to deny its significance and importance to me.

I took to visualizing performing this adventurous action and let that image and energy flow through me. As I felt the thrill and sentiment of the event, I took to my doodling in faith -- slide a line here, dash there, round this to the other segment, work my way around and through.. Then, I felt prompted that the picture was done. I stepped back and looked at what I'd drawn. ...A heart.

USU Campus: The Worst Artist Date [Condensed]

Utah hates me.

The following is evidence of that which is claimed:

Ugh. Okay! It doesn't hate me. It just knows I'm meant for someplace else.
Let me add the disclaimer that I have met some very wonderful people throughout the entire state, and they are not what I'm talking about. Now, let us commence into negativity that has silver linings:

As we have already established, I was recalled to Utah after a two month stint in California. I did not want to be there. And by my second Friday, I had grown incredibly antsy with the situation and with other aspects of my life and needed to get out of my parents' house (which selling fell through, causing my Utah visit to be extended by a month. Joy..). I embarked on a quickly decided artist date.*

I popped over to 1st Dam in Logan. And after seeing the pond crowded with end-of-summer-goers and exploring the not-so-much-to-explore there (I had never been there as an activity), I felt at a loss for this valuable, "uplifting" time with my artist-child and drove off (...a cliff. Kidding!). Where should I go? My plans were foiled. I communed with my artist and wound up browsing Hasting's and then scourging the rest of the valley for shoes in stores I had not yet hit. Still, no luck with the shoes. Honestly, how could the selections in this entire valley feel like crap to me?*

Nighttime hit, and I felt extremely dissatisfied. Treat yo'self, clicked within me, though I didn't know what that meant with what options I had, so I wound up driving through nasty Arby's for a chocolate shake and curly fries, which I took to USU (Utah State University) campus. I settled on a cement bench at the top of the Old Main Hill stairs.*

I chowed and looked over as much of the valley as I could in the dark, lit only by street and campus lamps.* I pondered an odd experience I had riding through Main Street in Logan on the way to the Lagoon amusement park the previous Saturday. It was like the buildings recognized me and grew panicky. You're not supposed to be here. You left! YOU need to be gone, they rustled.

I don't know how else to explain it. It was very weird. And yet, it was so distinct and strong.*

USU Campus: The Worst Artist Date [Unabridged]

Utah hates me.

The following is evidence of that which is claimed:

Ugh. Okay! It doesn't hate me. It just knows I'm meant for someplace else. For all I know it could just be a Cache Valley-Logan thing.
Let me add the disclaimer that I have met some very wonderful people throughout the entire state, and they are not what I'm talking about. Now, let us commence into negativity that has silver linings:

As we have already established, I was recalled to Utah after a two month stint in California. I did not want to be there. And by my second Friday, I had grown incredibly antsy with the situation and with other aspects of my life and needed to get out of my parents' house (which selling fell through, causing my Utah visit to be extended by a month. Joy..). I embarked on a quickly decided artist date (almost panicky in my immediacy; I think it may have scared my aging parents some) before I would meet friends for a small get-together later in the night.

I popped over to 1st Dam in Logan. And after seeing the pond crowded with end-of-summer-goers and exploring the not-so-much-to-explore there (I had never been there as an activity), I felt at a loss for this valuable, "uplifting" time with my artist-child and drove off (...a cliff. Kidding!). Where should I go? My plans were foiled. I communed with my artist and wound up browsing Hasting's and then scourging the rest of the valley for shoes in stores I had not yet hit. Still, no luck with the shoes. Honestly, how could the selections in this entire valley feel like crap to me? (Actually, I had found nice shoes, but they were like ones I'd had before, making them a no-go for me. Change and movement, remember?)

Nighttime hit, and I felt extremely dissatisfied. Treat yo'self, clicked within me, though I didn't know what that meant with what options I had, so I wound up driving through nasty Arby's for a chocolate shake and curly fries, which I took to USU (Utah State University) campus. Annoying freshmen hogged the corner of campus I desired to go, where I could look out over the entire valley, so I settled on a cement bench at the top of the Old Main Hill stairs with companions of two couples -- one married and expecting, the other seemingly engaged.

Donning my new pink jacket, I chowed down, swinging my legs like a child as I lapped up the chocolate shake. I looked over as much of the valley as I could in the dark, lit only by street and campus lamps, and thought of that issue that pressed hard for my artist date to happen immediately. Patience is what I was instructed, as has always been the answer to this months-old issue.

I pondered an odd experience I had riding through Main Street in Logan on the way to the Lagoon amusement park the previous Saturday. It was like the buildings recognized me and grew panicky. You're not supposed to be here. You left. YOU need to be gone, they rustled.

Gee, thanks for the warm homecoming, I sent back.