It takes alot to be creative.  To think playfully.  To remind yourself that life is not just laundry and work and schedules and blah.

I reached a wall last week.  A virtual wall of complete craziness.  I sobbed and felt entirely untamed.  I had no idea what I really needed or was hoping to get from my wailing.  I was stuck.  Stuck in my routine.  I was stuck waking and making breakfast which is either eggs and toast or oatmeal or yogurt or something else rather time consuming.  Then trying to keep the boys entertained until Kai’s naptime.  During that time there is bouncing off the couch and screeching down the hall and the wiping of butts and the unorganized chaos of cleaning and putting dishes away and I try to at least put on background music to make it resemble something civilized.

Kai naps, Caleb plays, I sigh deeply and sit on Pinterest or Facebook (yeah, I went back to it….) and then we begin our evening routine.  The boys go to bed, I do yoga, drink wine, watch a show and knit.

Even the parts I like of that routine were beginning to feel mundane and forced.  Yoga didn’t feel rejuvenating or invigorating.  It felt like work.  Cooking felt like a chore.  Making up games to play with the boys made me feel like an under-appreciated P.E. teacher….

I’m just going to say what we all know is true.  Life is difficult.  Being a mom can be difficult.  Being a stay at home full time mom, with few breaks from a partner (cause he is working his a$$ off to finish school while also working) keeping a house, animals and a bit of land, is difficult.  Trying to maintain an attitude of cheerfulness and joy does not come naturally.  Wallowing in self pity and frustration seem to be the easier road if you don’t set your mind to choosing differently.

Last Saturday I went bouldering, which is like rock climbing but it’s indoors, without ropes and you only go up about 12 feet.  At this specific gym they also had a slack line (like a low tight rope you can walk across) and springy floors which brought out my inner 12 year old gymnast.  I felt playful and energetic.  Free.  This was what I was lacking.

I came home with more spunk and fervor.  ‘I think I’ll go snowshoeing NEXT weekend!’ I began to rub my hands together gleefully.  Life is good if you pursue the goodness.

I decided to be more creative in the kitchen this week.  What else can I put a poached egg on?  Lets try making brownies with coconut flour!

Smoked salmon, kale, chard, sweet potatoes, salsa and raw sour cream

I finished up a knitting project a few weeks ago that was my hardest yarny endeavor yet.  A sleep sack for a friends newest addition.

Fair Isle Sleep Sack, pattern by the Purl Bee

And then yesterday at the request of my 5 year old, we got out the oils and acrylics, brushes and canvas, set up my easel and decided to paint.

It’s odd how hard it can be to just start being creative.  To set it up.  Plan it out.  Put on the appropriate music, get your cup of tea next to you and go for it.

I put oil to canvas and began to create.  I needed to paint something inspiring.  Something that moved me from my core.  Something that embodied how I want to feel.

Strong.

Graceful.

Noble.

Rooted.

And this is what came pouring from my heart out through my brush and onto canvas.

Nothing has changed in my schedule.  I am still home for all hours of the day, just me the boys, and our small menagerie of animals.  We get out a few times a week.  I clean and cook and fold and wash.  But I think I got my groove back.  We all need to create, to be artistic in whatever form that takes.  We need to do something outside of the routine and the scheduled events.  Purpose in creating.  Knit, climb, color, dance, art, music, clay, and all those other mediums.

Create.

Seth returned to school last week.  We are counting down days and I threatened to make a paper chain 77 long that would help us cling to hope as we rip off each chain.

I cant help but feel a bit poorly about my attitude for the last 4 years.  Waiting.  Holding out.  Looking to the future.  And very rarely living fully in the present.

I will be a better parent when Seth is home more.

I will spend more time with friends after Seth graduates.

We will do more things as a family when this season is finished.

I cant wait to start _____ when we have more money.

All those statements are true.  But they have also been excuses.  Excuses not to be fully present.

My seed order came in over the weekend and I am bursting with excitement.  I love reading the description of each packet, dreaming of almost purple Gypsy tomatoes, of Jet black Hollyhock, golden yellow zucchini and sweet crisp peas.  (I ordered from Bakers Creek Heritage seed company, this is my second year ordering from them and I am so pleased with their company!)

My mind wanders to the day we will own land and how I will fill the pastures with Scottish Highland cattle, Kinder  milking goats, Codswold and Icelandic sheep.  Trailing behind them will be Indian Runner ducks and a variety of chickens.  My children will swing from fruit trees and play games between rows of veggies.

Immediately I feel discontent.  My small 1/2 acre yard with little southern sun exposure and its close proximity to the road are disappointing.  My small flock of chickens, 1 angora rabbit and bored Great Pyrenees seem to mock my dreams.

How quickly I forget my joy in these pleasures.  It was only 2 years ago that I had no garden at all (or at least not one to speak of) 3 little hens and hardly more than a patch of grass for the boys to run on.  My dreams were of a bigger yard, a bigger garden, and some distance from the city.  And here I am, living my dream of 2 years ago and I can hardly wait for my dream of 5 years in the future to begin.  This realization is more depressing than anything.  I realize that in 5 years, if I do not change my heart, I will be eventually disappointed with the future as it becomes reality.  Something grander and greater will fill my mind and I’ll lose interest with the current.  Such is the demise of a dreamer.  It is so wonderful to have married a realist that keeps my head from floating away into the clouds.

So as I hold my seed packets, I allow myself to feel the simple joy of knowing I have space for them to grow.  I am thankful that I have this opportunity to experiment and learn.  I am thankful we live in a place that we are allowed to make our own and do with as we please as long as it benefits the land and the upkeep of our rental.  I am so thankful my boys have a yard, that I have an extra bedroom to craft and knit in.  I am thankful we have a shop for Seth to build in and share the space with friends.

And after this reflection, I am brimming with grateful tears at what blessings surround me.  My dreams have been realized.

So for these next 11 weeks (1 having been finished) I would like to make it my focus to live in my present.  To feel the magnitude of all that I have and to face my challenges head on, rather than hide in the hope of the future.

It came to me today as I examined my dreads, why I love/hate them.

There is a part of me that enjoys ‘put together’.  I find joy in symmetry and perfect lines.  A friend with perfect glossy bouncy curls is lovely to look at.  A home straight out of a catalog can be something to envy…. but not to live in.  I don’t want to live in a magazine.  I don’t want to look like a photo-shopped ad.

Bleached white teeth and tanning booth tans.  Brand new cars driven off the lots, children neat and tidy.  Hairs all in a line and shoes with out a blemish.  All these things tell me something….. there is something hidden.  Somewhere under all that ‘perfect’ is a person with a naked soul wanting to be known.

Twisted branches, tangled hair.  Dirt smudged children and warm messy kitchens.  Socks with holes and clothes smelling of ‘home’.  These things make me feel safe.  People that embrace little messes (and sometimes big ones) are saying ‘here I am, welcome to ME’. I don’t begrudge another for having something seemingly perfect, I just enjoy homemade/natural/broken/messy/ghetto- rigged a little bit more.

People that are ‘messy’ and people that are ‘tidy’ all have something in common.  We all have the same desires.  At the very core of it is the same heart.

So I wear my dreads as an acceptance of my ‘mess’.  My imperfection.  Here I am, welcome to ‘ME’.

Many of my years have been spent wandering.  In my mind, my soul, in location.  A seed being tossed about by the wind, rolled down steep banks and washed down streams.

I have moved 17 times since having started out on my own.  Many of my friendships have been seasonal and shallow.  At the first sign of confrontation or staleness, I bid my farewell and let the relationship smolder till it is cold.

I thrive on dreams and new visions.  Change fuels my fire.  We have moved many times simply because I feel antsy and have a desire for a new view and a new town.  A chance to start over.

In reading a blog recently by Rain, I was challenged to think of a word for this new year.  A word that captures my current desires.

The word ‘Rooted’ came to me.

To be rooted seems so scary to me.  I feel trapped and suffocated by the thought of commitment.  My marriage has been the longest thing I’ve committed to, and after 8 years I have learned something very valuable.  Change is the only certain thing.  My husband and I have both changed, grown and developed stronger opinions in some areas and switched sides in others.  And at times I feel overwhelmed by the weight of my commitment to this one person.  But my sense of honor overrides my fear and I stick to my vows.  I have learned so much because of that.

It is so important to ride out the storms.  On the other side of the raging wind and heated debates, the confrontation and colliding ideals is strength.  When you dedicate yourself to figuring it out and not fleeing, your true self is revealed to you.  And once having seen yourself raw and unfiltered, you know where your weaknesses lie.  You know what parts of you need growth.  You come out of the storm battered, but better for having been in it.

I need to grow.  I need to be challenged.  I am tired of starting over with new dreams and new people.  Never seeing things through makes life shallow.

In a few weeks Seth goes in for a new tattoo.  Because of an odd nerve disorder, my tattoo days are over, but I am thankful that Seth is open to being a canvas for us both.

On the peaks of cliffs and at the edge of the sand dunes on the Oregon Coast are some gnarled looking pines.  Wind blown and battered.  Roots exposed and limbs broken.  But the roots run long and tangled.  Gripping together for strength.  Holding tight to rock and soil they ride out the storms, face to the wind and harsh sea air.

These trees are my muse.  To be a person that sees out the storms knowing there is beauty on the other side, for myself and for the benefit to others.  I am excited to see how this picture works itself out in Seth’s new tattoo.  I’ll post pictures as soon as it is finished.

Are you rooted, or wandering?

My little brother Bear married his sweetheart.

Family celebrating the joyful addition of another member

We got 6 new chickens whom haven’t laid a single egg in a month.  I turned 29 and I got 3 yards of dirt as a present.   Don’t feel badly for me, I am thrilled.  Cold frames will be built for my christmas present and I will purchase a select few new heirloom seeds to add to my collection.  Fog has become a familiar friend as well as the biting cold.

My hands are sore from knitting constantly, but I am pleased with how much more quickly I can fly through a project.

Cars continue to wreck in front of our home and the transportation department has finally taken notice and put up massive flashing signs.

A good short term solution….  it means that at least this week, I will likely sleep better.

In my heart and in my head, many problems and quandaries keep me busy.  I am boggled and challenged by the nature of humans.  The nature to harm and cut down.  The nature to hold out a hand and embrace.  I have been shocked and puzzled with my own instincts.  My own nature.  My own secret thoughts.  Recently I have determined to unlock some of these forbidden dark places in my heart.  To wade through the muck and do some house cleaning.

I was struck by a thought that I could be whomever I wanted.  In my heart of hearts I want to be noble.  And wise.  Nurturing.  And graceful.  I want to be strong.

These virtues will never be mine to claim if I don’t make a conscious effort to learn these traits so in turn I can clear out the less savory personality flaws.

I turn to my faith first.  Asking of my Lord that he would instill these in my heart.  Asking that the dark places of my thoughts be exposed and cleaned.

I seek the advice of my dearest friends.  My husband and those I confide in.

Right now my garden sits empty and it makes me uneasy.  There is absense of growth, and where there is absence of intentional good, there is room for unneccesary.  There is room for weeds.

How coincidental that in a soul and in a garden, it is not enough to focus on getting rid of what you dont want.  you will weed every day, as a new opportunist will take advantage of the deep rich soil, a blank slate and an open invitation.  In turn, if I simply tell myself to NOT speak poorly of others, or turn to anger when I am frustrated… If my game plan is simply to NOT do something, than I am a blank space.  Open soil waiting for the next opportune flaw to seed itself.  Pride, bitterness and resentment will take root.  Hatred and distraction will bloom and self righteousness will go to seed.

Instead I will take note of what I want in my garden.  Peace.  Patience.  Kindness.  Goodness.  Self control.  Love.

After these virtues take root, I will need to take care that they are carefully tended and fed, that weeds cropping up near by be pulled from the root and the empty space quickly replaced with something else.

My outdoor garden will hopefully overflow with color and nourishment.  Birds, bees, bugs and frogs.  I hope that the shade it casts is a refuge for my chickens and dogs, a place of inspiration.  I constructed a small seating area in the middle of one garden.  I look forward to tea amongst the carrots.  To laughter between the garlic.  To furthering relationships amidst the wintering wheat.

The moon and I shared a moment on a foggy autumn night

I look forward to being noble.  And full of love and peace and patience and goodness and life.  Because if we do not choose who we are, than we will become whatever the wind brings to our empty soul.

May you choose your virtues and actively seek out what you wish to grow.