Baptism By Fire.

Tonight we dined in the cold evening sun, huddled around coals and laughter. We looked up at the sky, the sliver of the moon, and talked about acid and love. We burned memories on the bonfire and embraced its impermanent warmth, a brief reprieve from our own critical eyes and minds.

Rejection is a word I hear often. People reject things, emotions, other people. When you’re on the receiving end of what’s interpreted as rejection a part of you just dies. It breaks and dies. For me rejection has always felt like I was being cleaved in two: the part of me before, that was worthy, that was loved, that was confident, and the second part, the part that feels tiny, insignificant, and unworthy. Rejection isn’t what we go through, it’s what we put ourselves through by subscribing attributes or value to our experiences, to our interactions, our love, our being.

Tonight I watched my friends by the fire, some old, some new, and wondered at our connections. We can feel rejected because a thing, a person, an event did not go the way we wanted it to go, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t still just as connected.

Rejection is a feeling we place ourselves in because our mind tells us there may have been another outcome. We suffer from believing there would have been a different reality than the one we are faced with, the one we are going through.

If we never felt rejected or felt rejection, we’d feel more connected. We would believe in ourselves and in others, our belief wouldn’t waiver or change. We wouldn’t put ourselves down, or others down. There wouldn’t be a “could have been.” There would only be a now.

Right now.

Logos

Time, just goes. We look back and think of all the time we had to do this, to do that, and here we are over a year later and time, seems to have escaped everything. It’s really not as important as we think it is. It really is not important. Time that is. A lot more to come, first though, this:

Whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time. The twining strands of fate wove both of them together: your own existence and the things that happen to you. – Marcus Aurelius

 

Chossy Things.

Everyone has a thing. Or things. You know, issues they wrestle with: personal, physical, emotional, existential. That list is endless, and organic and changing.

Today was the first day all week that I didn’t have to work, not actual work. I still had class work, which is ok. I like that. I like my actual job too, but having a day where I’m not obligated to do anything is nice occasionally.

It’s good time to reflect.

I reflected about climbing. I miss it. A lot.

It’s weird. I keep coming back to this. I’ve spent the entire summer doing things, things I have to do, things I want to do, all positive. I have no complaints. I still miss climbing. It’s like a space in me that can’t be filled by other activities, or by reading piles of books, or walking miles, or biking miles. It’s just…

There. Empty. Echoing at me.

Resonating.

For one of my history classes this week I have to write a paper about an aesthetic experience I’ve had, what it was, how it changed me, what it did, what I felt and saw and how I reflected that back on my world. I wrote about rock climbing (even though I haven’t climbed in almost 3 or so months.) I described the first time I saw my sister rock climbing. The first climbing competition I ever went to. The energy I felt, the way the building smelled…everything. How that one event sent me out on this path and let me discover climbing, new people, new depths about myself and even the world.

Rock climbing has even shaped me as an artist. And I feel in some way, I haven’t been able to work as well because I haven’t been climbing. It’s weird, but it’s how I feel. I thought that road biking would enough. It’s challenging, I feel strong and calm, but there’s still that space in me.

Resonating.

I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and think about this. Like, something is missing. And I just sit. Some times I stare out the big picture window into the darkness and wait for it to say something back.

I think really, I don’t know what to do with how I feel. And I’m just waiting here, until I do know.

Small World.

At the beginning of the summer I happened upon a baby mantis in the back yard. I picked it up off the stones and placed it in a nearby tree.

It is now September…the shore is emptying, people are fewer, the ocean warm and windy. Thoughts pour everywhere.

Today I happened upon a huge, fully grown mantis, near the same rocks where I found the baby, so many months ago. I sat and watched it for a while….we sat and watched each other for a while.

Small world.

Spaces In Between.

Rain. Tons of it.

Last Sunday my friend Amanda and I were riding on the river trail, finishing up a 20 mile ride and we got stuck in the rain on the last half of our ride back. It was a positive ride, regardless of the weather. When we returned to my house, my neighborhood was flooded, my street was an actual river. I had stopped to put air in my buddy’s tires, and feeling undeterred by the weather, we walked up and down my street, took some photos and then braved the waters again, as I had to drive my friend back home.

My town was a wet mess. There was severe flooding in some lower laying areas. Unbelievable stuff, flooding I haven’t really seen since I was a kid. I dropped my friend off safely and then voyaged back to my house, parking my car on higher ground a street over, as my driveway was completely under water now.

It’s funny, I mean, watching the water was neat, in an awe-inspiring kind of way. I understand why people get really upset with it, with nature in general when it comes along and basically shows you how little control over everything you have….but really, have you ever just sat there and watched it?

I used to do this a lot with the ocean during storms. I’d sit on the beach, watch and listen to the waves just beat the beach senseless. Surfers would line up along the breakline and kind of mull over whether or not they’d want to risk their lives for that perfect swell. Moments like that are priceless. Photographs never really capture them, you can’t recreate the smell of the ocean and sandy beach, the sting of the rain slicing your face while it’s falling in sheets. The stillness of those surfers watching the water….it’s almost religious.

There’s a lot of anxiety happening right now around here because of this approaching hurricane. I’m sure, people are worried about their material things: homes, apartments, cars, technologies, etc.

I understand all that anxiety. I don’t know if I can relate to it the way I used to. I have a pet rat, Mona Lisa….I’d be worried about her, she would be that one thing I’d grab if everything went to hell. You know, what’s most important to you that you’d want to risk everything to take it with you?

Spirits on the Road.

I’ve been putting in a lot of miles on the bike for MS training and that’s going really well. Hitting the trails and road with my bike buddy and starting some training rides with other teammates this week. All in all, I feel really good about the biking. I had thought, when starting out, that one of my main goals should be speed. I quickly reassessed that goal when I realized that distance and endurance were more important. That and just being comfortable. I’ve slowly learned that just getting out as often as possible and riding helps a lot. Short rides, long rides, some sprints, but mostly rides where I can commit a lot of time and miles and just get into a groove, with myself, sometimes my buddy and definitely the bike.

Things that have helped a lot: proper nutrition, proper hydration, and rest (breaks during the long rides, and resting appropriately after them.)

I haven’t been rock climbing in well over a month, maybe it’s been two months. I’ve lost track of time where that’s concerned. At first I was bummed out about it, then a little nervous, like it was something I had to keep up with. Then I took a step back and asked myself why, what was I getting out of it?

I miss rock climbing now, but the biking has really settled into my life. It physically agrees with me more. My joints don’t ache, I’m not coming back from biking sessions bruised, I also don’t feel let down by rides. I used to feel let down by climbing a lot. Let down by myself I suppose, for not getting a certain grade, or making a certain technical move. Now, it’s just kind of like going the distance.

(Conversation Across Light Years….)

I was having this conversation with a friend and it actually helped synthesize a thought I was struggling with concerning climbing and biking, and their relation to myself. I think a lot, all the time actually, about everything. Maybe it’s part of being an artist. I’m never bored, always processing ideas, and colors and thinking of possibilities and philosophizing. This was so hard when it came to climbing, and actually made climbing more complicated. I had to work very hard to turn off certain thought processes when climbing, so I could just make moves, and enjoy it. With biking, my legs and lungs know what to do, and I can think about so much. The thoughts never seem to get in the way of riding. When I need to push myself to ride harder or faster, or farther….I dig deep, pull a thought and push it to the surface. I don’t know why there’s such a difference between the two: why one would benefit the thoughts and the other suffer from it, but it’s been neat watching and feeling everything unfold.

So that’s riding. I’ve also been hard at work painting. I finished the portrait commission of a friend (for another friend) and started the second piece for their series. After the two are given together, I’ll post finished photos, but here are a few of the starting process for the second piece. It’s been great having the free time to get a lot of painting done over this break from work and school. Classes and work pick back up the last week in August and a part of me is restless for the routine, but also grieving for the time I know I won’t have. Graduation is close and that’s so exciting and scary.

Dogpaint1 © ChossyGrl

This is the base coat and prime for the second piece. Painted on woodboard.

Dogpaint2 © ChossyGrl

Sketch on the primed board, getting ready for the first glaze.

Dogpaint3 © ChossyGrl

First glaze.

Part of my life is literally spent watching paint dry. I think it helps with patience. Excited to see where the next few weeks take both myself and this painting. Fall is right around the corner.

Progress & Gratitude.

The portrait I’ve been working on for a friend is slowly taking shape. A couple weeks ago I was getting up early before class and work just to have an hour or 45 minutes to get a few strokes and colors down, now that summer classes are finished, I can sit for hours and push the brush. It’s nice to have the time back to explore with the paint and the forms, and I’m grateful for the time again. The piece is taking shape, and I can see characteristics of my other friend, starting to come through, which is always a cool process. Sometimes I think to myself, when painting “does this really look like the person I want it to? Will they recognize themselves?” Some times they do, other times they don’t and are surprised that I would interpert them that way.

Something I’ve learned from painting over the last year: it has to do its own thing. I can start off with an idea, or general impression of what I want to achieve with any piece, but realistically, I have to be open to everything. Sometimes accidental strokes make the best new beginnings. When you start to command the paint or the brushes, a piece looks artificial, not sincere or spontaneous. At least for me, I’ve found this to be true. So, I’m excited to keep working on this portrait, and I want to prime some more boards for a few others while in the process.

I had this moment last night, and I wanted to put down a few words about what happened. Even if just so some day I can come back here and reflect and be like, yeah, that’s why all of this matters…

I went to a happy hour for a friend last night, it was great to see them, and meet some new people, laugh with some old people and just have a good positive night. Afterwards I went food shopping. When I left the store it was almost dark. I looked up at the sky while putting the groceries into my car and the skyline was lit by pinks, oranges, purples and blues. Some of the clouds stood out starkly against this bright background, others simply melted into it. It was an amazingly beautiful moment. I had to actually stop while leaving the parking lot and just sit by the car and watch it for a while. It was that beautiful.

I thought to myself, how nice it would be to see others in the lot, watching the same moment I was watching right then. But people were just driving by. They looked at me, but never looked at the sky.

It was a weird moment. I felt grateful for my family, for the friends I had just left, for my bike buddy Amanda, who is always positive during our rides, and has kept me going all these weeks. I felt relaxed, like time didn’t matter, the reason it existed was for this moment. I also felt sad because sometimes there is a part of me that wants others to see these things and feel them the way I do. I am not sure if they do, or if they understand the deepness of them in me, or in life. It is only a piece, I know, but something I think about….stopping to see what’s there, instead of looking for the next thing.

Today I woke with this feeling of deep gratitude. Still some lingering sadness, I think that is always a part of me. I accept this most days and am ok with it. But today, just reflecting on the many things in life there are to be thankful for, and how beautiful that makes it.

Achilles’ Heel.

There’s a concept I’ve been grappling with for weeks now, trying to wrap words around it in order to present it in a way that others would find it….edible. Until yesterday, I wasn’t sure how, or if, it was worth it. It is.

And still, I have this fear that my words will lack all the meaning I want them to.

Yesterday was the first day in over two weeks I climbed. I got together with a good friend that I have been climbing outside with this summer, and we hit one of my favorite crags with some other friends. I hit the wall at 7:30 am, and stopped around 5:30pm. It was a long and beautiful day.

I wasn’t nervous about leading anything because I hadn’t been climbing in a while. It was something else I had been thinking about, but still…a thoughtful idea about my relationship with climbing: where it’s come from, how it is now and even where it’s going.

I don’t climb at all now. I don’t really seek out climbing time. I don’t get sessions in at the gym to train anymore. Part of it is that I don’t have the time, part of it is that I’ve made my peace with where I want to be with my climbing, and part of it is just, how it is.

Yesterday was an experience because it was like climbing for the first time and still, I felt like I had been climbing forever.

I wasn’t nervous. I was calm. I projected two new leads. Mentally, I was able to see problems, try different approaches, commit to moves and finish. Where in the past I would have doubted myself (despite my strength) and given up.

Achilles' Heel © ChossyGrl

The Achilles’ Heel. So at the end of yesterday I sat watching my friends climb, thinking, what was so different now, that I feel…changed? That my experience with climbing and that myself while climbing would be and feel so different?

It came to me during a casual conversation with one of my friends yesterday. It made me laugh actually. I was trying to lay back on this flake, and had to  move up to a crimp, left the wall was blank except for a tiny chip for a left foot. I had to throw a right heel to hit the next crimp. I refused to throw a heel. I have this fear about heels. I don’t like the exposure of the back of my heel and leg against or close to the rock, with the possibility that I might blow off. I don’t have faith in the heel hook. In yesterday’s case, it would have helped me make this move with less energy and brute force.

So here’s the thing, I was thinking about the heel. My climbing was so different yesterday because all my external rewards for it were removed. I haven’t trained, or been training. I’m not training for anything. I don’t have an accurate idea of what grade I can climb now because I’m not in the gym climbing all the time. I’m not projecting every week. I don’t have those little things to satisfy my ego.

Because that’s what they did, in a sense before….they calmed my ego.

And now? Climbing isn’t giving me a grade bonus, or something to facebook about. Climbing yesterday was just about hanging with my friends on the 4th of July and projecting some fun climbs.

My Achilles’ Heel?

When it came to climbing, it was the need of having to be great at climbing in order to feel like a good climber. Instead of just climbing and having fun. It was also feeling like my worth, to others, was only based on how hard I could climb.

 

 

 

 

 

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas.

How do you survive and thrive in a world of Doubting Thomas? How do you keep from becoming one yourself?

Love can see us through.

In other words, unconditional love and faith. I’m not talking about religion, when I speak of faith. Just the idea of believing in something, or someone, without having a self-serving motivation to do so. There is a rich tapestry of life to be lived through experiences: physical, mental, emotional. Many of these experiences are often times hindered by our need for justification of them, our having to rationalize why we are feeling how we are, how our experiences have, are or will shape us, and even physically, why our bodies feel and respond the way that they do. Sometimes, all the external stimuli is enough to drown out the actual moment we are having.

The experience and journey we are witnessing.

Are you a Thomas?

Why do we need proof to be able to feel and live in our moments? Is life so calculated and sterile (articulated) that to acknowledge there is nothing so rational about it is such a risk? Does this admit to our fragility?

Vulnerability, Balance & Love.

Dry Spells & Catalysts.

When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. – Viktor Frankl ‘Man’s Search For Meaning’

Inspiration can drown you in a flood. So many ideas, rushing through your head at once, there never seems like enough time to record or play with everything that you are imagining. You struggle to grab and hold on to just one thought and see it through to some physical, fleshed out idea. Something you can show to someone else and say, “see this? I had this crazy idea!” A thing you can proceed to rant and gesture wildly about with much enthusiasm. It’s always a wonderful feeling to be driven by thoughts on this one, great, thing.

Then again…

Inspiration sucks the very life from you. It is that unspoken oasis in the desert, sometimes only an illusion, a thing that drives you on, relentlessly through creative brain fever. You question yourself, you doubt yourself, you ask yourself, “why?!?” Inspiration can lead you out to the middle of nowhere without a compass, map, or breadcrumb trail. You can push yourself so hard that when you finally come out, you realize there’s nothing.

The inspiration, the creative process, has stopped.

You are dry.

Thirsting in the desert of idea, with no imagined oasis.

Chock ©ChossyGrl

It’s easy to suffocate during periods of creative “dryness.” Other things fill time, but always, thoughts about making, playing, and experimenting with creative ideas are in the back of the head. Reminding you that you haven’t done anything. It’s easy to stay in this holding pattern. Mostly because getting started again is harder that just continuing without the “flood” of inspiration mentioned before.

I haven’t painted in two weeks. I have ideas, but they are mostly just noise, nothing shouts at me and says, “see me? I’m awesome! You NEED to actualize me….”

This is a hard place to be in right now. On one hand, the physical & mental rest is nice. But emotionally, I feel as though I should be making things, exploring, playing….not just wandering around in my imagined oasis.

I do not want to become rooted….not yet.

To help with my own inspiration I’ve started yoga, I’m walking/riding more, playing around with photography again, and I dyed my hair (blonde.) Coincidently, I’m also going back to college next week.

Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom. –Viktor Frankl ‘Man’s Search For Meaning’