Mending: Freeing 'All of Me'

"Mend any mending."

This is one of the last tasks of The Artist's Way. Ultimately, it is a lifelong pursuit.

Still, just a week after I finished The Artist's Way, a huge mending occurred in storybook-like ways. A specific period of the past, in which I was emotionally, creatively, other -ly's blocked and locked up, came forward to be released. It troubled me and brought with it great anxiety, as I relived those feelings and that locking up.

As I listened to myself, and to the Spirit, I was guided on an uncanny path to self-discovery and mending. I recorded and explored my mending in my morning pages:

(October 6, 2014) "I took time to doodle it out. First came the wrappings of a gift -- the picture looked like the top of a wrapped gift. ... I was offered a gift -- the entire experience was a gift. I then was told to try to open it like it was a real gift but I couldn't grab the drawn bow. I couldn't open it, and it was frustrating and made me wanna cry. I felt like I wasn't allowed to open the gift, because I wasn't shown how. I crinkled it up and was about to throw it away, but kept it next to me. I, next, drew a worm on a hook bobbing in the water. I was fishing. I realized the gift was to go fishing. I didn't feel I was allowed to go fishing and really experiment. I was just taught methods and asked to bring what I already had. There wasn't too much exploration as to what I could potentially find or become. I don't think I was allowed the time. This was especially true for [Pokey-hontas], who just wanted results. ... I just wanted to play and experiment. ...

Left, worm in water; Right, 'All of Me'

"I drew another picture next to the worm that I realized was an abstract version of me. It showed that my emotional and creative side was huge and running over and my mental and practical side had normal potential but there wasn't much there. Sometimes the spiritual connection between the two was ignored. ... Above them was my connection with God. Anyway, I felt the picture represented all of me. The gift was fishing and finding all of me. I'd hoped for it but wasn't allowed, by myself and others, to really open it, so I put the wrapped gift over the other picture and tore the wrapping paper off, as now I can open that gift. I am free to fish for all of me and be all of me. ... To separate the all of me part from the worm, I folded the paper and it came out looking like an airplane."

Things I'm Not Allowed #5: Saying What I Want

The final item, and the most profound, in this series was, basically, to show up at a certain person's doorstep and say something I've been wanting to say for years but never have, due to my own social fears and our lack of relationship -- like, literally, we've never spoken, yet saw each other a few times a week, even recognizing each other in our own shy ways. I took to visualizing the experience and released this, in my random-dashes way of drawing:

Pretty much, the message of this one is to say what I want to say. Sometimes, what is inside may feel meek to come out, as it may be a delicate part of me. I may build defenses -- pile on a costume, wear a facade -- to protect that precious aspect. Other times, what I feel needs to be said may seem as dangerously snappy as an alligator king (do you see his head in the drawing?), though behind, or underneath, anything I say or do that may seem blunt or harsh is a delicate, well-meaning person. But it might be needed, in order for some activities and projects (or relationships) to progress smoothly; for other views and sides to be heard, that new understanding may be reached; for everyone to be treated fairly. Or, that snappiness might be a mask for what I really am feeling, or want to say. Also, near the bottom of the picture is a fuse. I can only take so much of not being heard, before I may collapse on myself, or explode, leaving others to deal with themselves.

There is so much in this abstract picture, but this description, I think, will suffice.

Opportunities to speak up, or to introduce yourself to someone and meet them, will pass you by. Don't fear others. They're only people. Would it really hurt to follow through, if you're feeling obliged to do so? This isn't always a problem for me, as friendly and welcoming as I can be, but on occasion, I do sense resistance to saying some things I feel strongly about, especially in certain settings. It has been my nature. I will do better. And in some instances, I have.

Things I Am Not Allowed #4: Makin' My Movies

Number four that I listed in this series is, "Make my screenplays into movies myself," as in directing, producing, and acting. Here's what appeared:

I actually directly relied on what I've learned about doodles from Energy Profiling with this one.

Basically, I could probably do it. I possess the leadership within me to potentially do it, though it would, obviously, be an incredible learning and tutelage experience (I would definitely need collaboration on the business and technical side of things). I would often feel like a mad mess inside, but there would be such a sense of art and flow to my method that others may not always sense my immense stress level. But, hey, on a movie set, who isn't stressed out of their mind?

Things I Am Not Allowed #3: Concert Tour

Revisiting this series of The Artist's Way tasks, of doodling things I'm not allowed, the third I listed was, "Give a sell-out concert tour." Out popped this:

So, yeah. I agree. "Whatever, bozo," was my first reaction, as well. I considered it longer and found that to give a concert series to the caliber that I would love to do, I currently only have a very skeletal framework. I have a library of songs I have written (though tucked away, for whatever reason) and a few images in my head (though nothing matured).

There are plenty gaps to fill in, if this is to be accomplished. And of course, the biggest obstacle in doing any of this has been myself, since I've only taken passive steps toward it.

Carol Tuttle's Energy Profiling System

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

This post is fun! We all are familiar with personality types. Well, a little over a year ago, I discovered Carol Tuttle's Energy Profiling system, a movement based assessment that takes into account behavioral tendencies, body language, physical features, feeling processes, and thought processes.

My purpose in sharing this is to start off the new year with something that may help us get to know ourselves a little better. Discovering a more "true" you may be just around the corner! Plus, it plays some into a few of my future posts, since it's taken an interesting role in my life. Most importantly for future posts, pay attention to doodles.

Energy Profiling presents the idea that everyone was born with their energy profile and that it never changes. We all were given our gifts with our energy type and will be happiest and will thrive most, with those around us, as we live true to that nature and honor others as they live true to their nature. Of course, though there are only four energy types, everyone is unique in their individual expression of their type. Also, everyone possesses all four types within them, though we all lead with one of the types. Further, the energy types express in all forms of nature, including environments and animals, and in many different aspects of life, such as music and what clothes, hairstyles, and makeup work best for someone (Carol and her team have organized an entire program for this entitled Dressing Your Truth, or DYT; its introductory book is Discover Your Personal Beauty Profile).

Another major aspect Energy Profiling accomplishes is that it disbands most behavioral qualities of gender, validating and honoring personal gifts that are often squelched by societal expectations. While society may impose a standard of what one must be in order to represent a prime example of their gender, Energy Profiling grants opportunity for everyone to live true to what is most natural to them. Many members of each sex possess qualities that society may try to discount, qualities and gifts we often miss in our world, all for the sake of shaming. Let us build, rather than tear down.

Needless to say, there is a lot to be said about energy profiling, but I'll try to be brief. You can look further into it if it peaks your interest. More can be known about it in Carol's book It's Just My Nature! and through her free ENERGY PROFILING online course.

Now, to qualify yourself as a type, there is no test, as with many personality inquiries, which results can be tainted and, therefore, not necessarily a most accurate assessment of who you truly are at your core. When you learn of the types, you intuitively will know what type you dominantly express (and what you express as your secondary, tertiary, and so forth). They are named just by numbers: Type 1, Type 2, etc.

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.