Art in Focus

To collaborate is to create something that could not be created without the participation of those involved.

Meriah Kruse, Larry Vogt and I talked about Collaboration at last night’s Art and Focus gathering.

It was held at the Luigart Studio.

Larry and I opened with a love poem. Larry played his electric Fender Telecaster. Meriah presented ideas for Meriah talked about the necessity of vision. She and I improved the process of collaborating for our upcoming event.

DORMANT FORCES
Inspiring Creativity, Defining Vision
Part performance, part workshop, for energizing your vision for business and life.
Saturday, November 9, 2 – 5 pm
MS Rezny Studio Gallery, 903 Manchester Street, Lexington KY
$25 per person
Limited Space; Register in advance: https://lifeforcemarketing.com/event/

Setting up

Here are some of our thoughts and list of questions you could consider for your next collaboration.

And if want more discussion consider coming to our workshop/performance!

Collaboration helps us to see our own process more clearly as it stands in stark contrast to the process of the other. 

Collaboration opens alternative doors in our imagination, both stimulating and elevating our ideas as we are influenced by the ideas and perspective of our partners. 

Collaboration     Cultural Heritage  Self -Expression   Awareness    Vision 

Collaboration: a giving and letting go

Collaboration helps us to see our own process more clearly as it stands in stark contrast to the process of the other. 

Collaboration opens alternative doors in our imagination, both stimulating and elevating our ideas as we are influenced by the ideas and perspective of our partners. 

Collaborations work best when you know your personal mission.

Asking what and why helps determine a mission statement for the collaboration.

What are we doing?  

Collaborating to inspire creativity and attain vision.

Why are we doing this? 

To foster an understanding of cultural traditions and mythology and heighten an appreciation and tolerance of difference and commonality through inspiration. 

When we are inspired our mind transcends limitations.

Who is our audience for the collaborative event?

1. Each collaborator has a different audience. What is their common ground?

2. What does our audience desire? 

3. What are we offering them? What do each of us  uniquely bring to the collaboration?

 4.  What are the benefits for our audience?

5. What are the features/expectations of this event?

Soreyda always provides sustenance

  process

what we include

  what we do not include

 6.  This is good for you if:

      This is not for you if:

 7.  What is the investment?

8. Timeline

9. One doubt

An Anthology of Prayers

The act of making is not frivolous. 

It is a necessity, a survival tool. 

A space to place your mind and heart in the midst of chaos.

1. The Prayer

The dog lies beside me, waiting 

there are shadows across the floor 

sunlight filters through the trees 

in the air of death the spirits journey.

There is no knowing  

only, waiting   

this death is of an unknown origin  

not the body  

not the soul 

a death of expectations  

surety  

a death of thinking one knows  

In this air of death 

where a dream has died  

a heart has broken  

a past is only a memory  

the spirits journey  

The dog lies beside me, waiting 

there are shadows across the floor 

and sunlight filters through the trees

2. The Revelation

Keep writing in the midst of chaos. 

That place you can't think your way out of. 

Yesterday I botanical printed two pieces of silk, 

slowing my mind down to essentials. 

Placed leaves in delicate patterns. 

Breathe in. Calm. I can handle this. 

I wrapped each bundle tight, like a hug.

Today I envision pieces of silk, torn in strips, 

each one a story with two endings. 

It could go this way or it could go that way. 

Today I will sew them together. 

A patchwork 

from the leaves found in our woods:

Anthology of life prayers.

Today I will choose silk with love, no fear. 

I like this one. Its pattern is underwater ripples. 

Those currents of despair and agony always running underneath 

creating vibrance and elegance on top.

Making brings us into the moment, 

the only place where peace and happiness live. 

The only place the mind stops,

if only for a moment. 

Now vulnerable, 

the silk's ready to be covered with leaves I've gathered on my walk. 

Breathe, I say each time I bend over to pick one up, considering placement. 

For a moment my worried mind has stopped.

Today I am focused on walnut leaves. 

They penetrate deeply through several layers, 

unless I place a resist underneath. 

That is always the question. 

What do we want to resist and what do we want to embrace? 

In the beginning, when I was younger, 

I wanted to embrace everything. 

Now I only want reassurance that everything will be okay. 

Of course it will be, 

if I stay in the moment. 

Once I went to a wise woman. 

Confused, I didn't know which decision to choose. 

She said it didn't matter. 

I would learn something either way. 

What is it about pacing? 

The walking back-and-forth, seeking important work. 

Something to do. 

A task that will change the course of a river 

with tributaries leading in many directions. 

Thinking while pacing. 

What to make to stop this aimless walk to nowhere? 

I wait without pacing. 

Soaking up impressions.

This evening I will eat alone. 

Something small. 

I won't watch a movie, either. 

I like the quiet.

I keep writing in the midst of chaos. 

That place I can't think my way out of. 

"Wrap me in silk," she said.

Simplify, simplify, simplify, it has been said. And I agree. Makes life much easier. I have been dying some beautiful fabrics. I have decided to simplify by making them all into wraps and shawls. That is, after all, how I got started.

I watched the movie, “Frieda.” I loved her dramatic wrapping of herself in fabric. In shawls and scarves. I can do that. I can make those, I said. Only different. And, if you want one of my cloaks, shawls or scarves made into a bolero, jacket, or duster. I can do that!

Cape/shawl

It all started when I was dressing to go to a professional luncheon and I couldn’t decide what to wear. I wanted to wear some of my art boleros, jackets or dusters, but they felt too elegant for an afternoon. I chose a dress but it was sleeveless and I wanted something to keep my shoulders warm. You know how restaurants are. That’s why business men and women wear suits.

Wear as a cape, or drape if like a scarf or wrap like a shawl.

With a shawl or wrap, no matter how large, I can arrange, move and manipulate the fabric as needed. I can drape over a chair, or tie it around my waist. It will always be beautiful to look at.

What I love about this piece is all the colors. It will complement anything!

Laverne's Radio Writing Workshop

Lexington Community Radio 
WLXU 93.9 FM
Laverne’s Radio Writing Workshop

A process designed to encourage dialogue when critiquing writing.

Based on Liz Lerman’s book, Critical Response Process

All writing counts. Talking about writing counts. When we write, we have something to say and a desire to be heard. In 1990 I started the Working Class Kitchen for the purpose of creating an arena for writers to read their work.

Today, I explore workshopping writing on the radio. A risky thing to do. But the willingness to take risks is what makes a writer successful. Workshopping our word on the radio creates another arena to share not only what we have written but also our process.

This gives the listener the experience of our work on a deeper level. With a focus on making statements of meaning and asking questions dialogue occurs and a deeper understanding or what a writer intends to say is gained.

There are four writers gathered to talk about writing. Let’begin by introducing our selves and a brief comment on where we come from.

I’m Laverne Zabielski
I come from
the daughter of Methodist missionaries 
the son of Catholic, Polish immigrants
kiełbasa, whiskey and golumki

I come from sewing machines
fried chicken Air Force bases
cotton fields, fences, flat roads and drought

take one day a time, mother said
What do you think I’m made out of?
Money? Daddy asked

I come from seven kids
1 pair of shoes each
cub scout meetings cost 10 cents
the whole house searched for that dime

Meaning is at the heart of our writing.

Step one: Statements of meaning

What has meaning for you in this piece? What did this piece mean to you?
What spoke to you? What was significant? What was stimulating? 
What was provocative? Surprising? Evocative? Memorable? Touching? Challenging? Compelling? Delightful? different? Unique? 
Nothing is too small to notice.

The more focused the writer on their questions, 
the more intense and deep the discussion becomes.

Step two: Writer as questioner

What would you like more of?
Where should I expand?
Did it work when….?
How did you experience….?

When defensiveness starts, learning stops.

Step three: Neutral questions for responders

Informational and factual questions
Form opinions into questions. “It’s too long” can become “Why are your pieces so long?”

Maintain dynamic and challenging dialogue

Opinions can often feel like objects thrown at us.

Step four: Permissioned opinions

Name the topic. As permission.
I have an opinion about the setting. Would you like to hear it?

Dig deeper. Make something beautiful.

Let’s dive deeper into our art making experiences. Summer is the time for experimenting. I appreciate Peggy’s insightful comments about the classes she took this past winter and spring. 

“Having an interest in felt, after dappling in wet and nuno felting, I took two FeltLoom classes under the guidance of Laverne Zabielski. Inspired, I also have completed the Sibori dying class.

“More than a teacher, Laverne Zabielski mentors and guides her students through art theory and color theory while demonstrating the process of the art form she is teaching.  

“Laverne’s teaching methods are based upon sound educational pedagogy: demonstrating, explaining, and collaborating.

“After displaying  examples of  FeltLoom products and listening to her students, Laverne introduced some wool rovings, silk, and ribbon embellishments that could be incorporated into the silk and wool batting scarf that would be created in the beginning FeltLoom class. She reminded students of the color wheel and simple art theory concepts to help guide us in designing our pieces.

“I left class with Laverne, inspired and empowered, believing in myself as a creator of art.  

“Since the first class, with guidance from Laverne and the magic of the FeltLoom, I’ve made a shawl and then repurposed nuno felted scarves, and completed a 4’ x 6’ wall hanging. 

“I’m looking forward to expanding my Sibori dying abilities. Laverne Zabielski is unique, being a creative, skilled artist and teacher.” —Peggy Workman

Check my event page to see what’s scheduled.

Woman Who Hunts

Woman Who Hunts

She flies over, 

pursues, perseveres, 

dives down, dives in, 

picks up, flies on, 

spreads her wings, 

flaunts, flows, 

proud and determined.

She glides above. 

Sees all, knows much. 

She careens, guides.

Sharing her technique 

is her vehicle for teaching

manifesting control of vision, 

fostering independence.

Comforting Indulgence

Five things I notice

Something hot to sip first thing in the morning is a comforting indulgence. Today it’s mate.

I like to get up before daybreak when the house is quiet and I am the only one awake.

 My reflection in the sliding glass door to the patio as I sink in my hand me down chair and wonder if I should get a new one so a bookshelf would fit up against the wall and my books would not pile up.

Silk with the shibori dyed magnolia flowers moving gently in the doorway

reminding me how important movement is.

Remembering conversations from yesterday. So many stories. All from a different point of view. My questioning truth. Is there even such a thing? Realizing there are only stories with different perceptions. Different for every person. Questioning how much one’s future is determined by the story they tell.

Turning Points

It is so much easier to look back. I’m sure I’m coming across some turning points at this very moment. They are too close to glean any insight. Except for spring flowers. They are immediate. They let you know the season is about to change. the lightness of spring is imminent. The brilliance of summer is not far off. My formulas for shibori dyeing fabric begin to change.

Looking back for turning points, I ask, how far back can I go? To my junior year in high school when I changed my style wearing a borrowed, white, v neck dress with a circular, cinched-waist skirt to a civil air patrol dance on the Air Force Base where I lived. Guys out numbered girls ten to one. I danced and danced.

The time when I was 20 and I went shopping in at expensive boutique. I tried on linen pants, fuchsia and orange. They were bold and bright. I hated them. Wanting a change, I bought them. My dad said I was stunning.

I was working in an office. I sewed a deep sea bluegreen maternity skirt and floral print top. Wore it to work, brazen and pregnant. So many compliments.

My first divorce. It was not a bad marriage. Ms Magazine arrived. It was intellectual conversation I was seeking.

Letting my kids go live with their dad. It was the right thing to do. I wanted the divorce. It was my idea. I knew I could handle being a better mother away than he could be a father so far away.

There was a recklessness in the decisions to divorce and custody. A recklessness that gave me a freedom to seize my vision.

There was chaos and disorder in the second marriage. I divorced again. With a clear vision that I deserve to be with those who appreciates who I am and what I can do.

Today I am following my curiosity. That will lead me to my passion, Elizabeth Gilbert says. I believe her. I am most curious about how to deepen my relationships. To know more. To understand more.

Michelle Obama says, “It is hard to hate up close.”

Maybe that’s true. That’s what I want. But most times my arrogance gets in the way. Like when someone takes a different stance and I stand back, with hands on my hips, and say to myself, how could you?

I had a fantasy the other day when we were at my daughter’s house. They had created a new “pub room.” They had arranged it with a little bar, a few tables scattered around. There were several different conversations going on at each table. Every one was smiling, nodding, laughing, listening. Most likely all in agreement since we are all like minded.

I had a thought. What if that wasn’t true? What if the conversations at each table we’re radically different? Opposing views were being expressed. And everyone was still listening, nodding? What if it was like the game of musical chairs and when the band of brothers and cousins stopped playing one person would shift to the next table and enter the conversation? One they might totally disagree with? Could it be done? Could the knot in their stomach be pushed down when they heard things they disagreed with? Could they be silent for two beats and let the conversation flow without the need to be the lone dissent? Could they let listening be the path to deepening?

My husband said, “No, there’s too much at risk.”

“Isn’t being silent and listening equally powerful? “I asked. “Doesn’t living by example mean anything?”

Curiosity has lead me to explore the distinction between empty silence and the the silence of listening.

Repurpose

Repurposed skirts from Goodwill. Felted to merino and silk.

I decided not to put in side seams. It can be worn as a wrap in many different ways. Feel free to flaunt.

Vision

My dear, Pursuing two high intensity businesses, waiting to see which one takes off, will never work. You have to pick one or the other.

In today’s world, working for yourself is the best option. Nobody wants a job. Your second job, which brings in a little cash, exists to complement your passion. If it’s consulting, get clear about what you have to share and who wants what you have. Then you’re life becomes meaningful. What more could you ask for?

Know that it takes time to build your business. Begin a regular writing practice. This is how you will become clear on who you are, what you want, and what you want to do to have the life you imagine. Write your one year, five year, 10 year, 20 year, 40 year plan. What do you want to be doing in 40 years? It’s easy to write a one-year plan. And the list will be long. But looking forward to 40 years, the list becomes simplified. When I wrote mine 40 years ago there were only three things left on my 40 year plan. I wanted to write, make art, and have a house with the picket fence. That’s what I’m doing. The list of books I wanted to read, workshops I wanted to take, kids I wanted to get involved in sports and activities hav been accomplished.

Now, I write, make art and share. Ultimately that’s the essence of your consulting business. Sharing who you are. Not selling. And asking for fair compensation. Which people will want to pay.

These days, I’m working on more felting on the FeltLOOM, using repurposed clothes.

Vintage skirts with merino wool

Prayer for Adornment

May we taste ourselves 
when adorned in beauty, 
lick our lips in the delight

Surround ourselves deeply in dreams

Let the fragrance of our existence 
leave traces as we pass
a swish of color
the touch of serenity

Softness still abounds, 
sifted from the pursuit of power

All that is sensuous surrounds 
serene with understanding

May we remain deeply delicious
serenely fragrant 
sensuously soft 
strong and safe

Precious Art

At Lake Tahoe with DJ, Alyssa and Larry. We sit and ponder, silent for a moment. I remember beautiful things. It’s a strategy I use to keep from crumbling. That doesn’t mean I don’t cry. A focus on all the beauty that surrounds keeps me walking.

The candles in the kitchen of my tiny house with its Karastan carpet in the middle of the floor. The candles making a soft light.

The bonsai on my window sill surrounded by tiny white lights and Ellen’s painted rock. The bonsai is a gift from my dear friends in the Story Sisterhood.

The orchid, tiny, tall and slender, a gift from Mead during the days following Donnie’s decision to move. Move on.

The card, artful, in blues and greens and purple and violet with a touch of yellow and orange water color marks and thin lines. From Monika, a woman I’ve never met in person, only online, sharing writing and colorful visions, vibrations of kindred spirits, a reaching out, her sympathy card, with its heart felt message.

Remembering the fire in the back yard fire pit two nights ago. Smoking from green kindling scavenged from the curb instead of walks in the words. Our strategy for urban fires is yet to be developed.

This morning wet glistens from the rain last night that kept Highlin’ awake and us through the thunder.

The golden light from the antique lamp on my dining room table, covered with the old lace table cloth I shibori dyed in fuchsia and yellow green shades.

I know the difference between satisfied and dissatisfied. I follow the good feelings a particular thought gives me and I witness he goodness that follows. The beautiful memorial for Donnie.

Tryin to go back and figure out the past is of no avail. Better to go forward from where I am. In my Darley House. Sunlight streaming in. New botanical print fabrics drying.

Challenge

It’s been 3 weeks and 3 days. I take on challenges in the same way Donnie approached life. I start with appreciating what surrounds me. My friends and family and the gift I have to be creative. I read and reread, my son, DJ’s words. I ponder colors. And after I choose, I reflect on the story they tell.

Eulogy 

by DJ Saltigerald

I’ve learned through this process that you don’t always realize how someone has impacted your life until something like this 

happens and you spend time to reflect and so thinking about Donnie I’ve seen how deep threaded aspects of my life have their roots in my older brother…

Two of my favorite things in life, are sports and music and I can trace some of that love back to my early relationship with Donnie.From the Beastie Boys back when I was listening to rap music and then to my transition to bluegrass and outlaw country.

I liked what Donnie liked, and I was eager to share music I had found or tell experiences of live shows Id been to.

Being a first generation Kentuckian, my UK fandom wasn’t passed down from my father and his father before that. My love for UK came from my older siblings. Dana took me to my first football game, and Donnie. . . that’s what we had. . .we talked sports.

He gave me a blessing. . .and a curse. The blessing was UK sports. We constantly talked UK basketball and football and most of the games I went to was with him. People always talked about the loudest Rupp Arena was is when #1 Florida came to town and we ran them out of the gym. . .and I always think “I was at that game. . .”

I was at that game with Donnie

For a while, when I first moved home from California, I went on Wednesday nights to put him in bed, and that was my chance to catch up with him on UK and the NFL.

Speaking of the NFL. . .that was his curse. It’s because of him I’ve spent the last 27 years rooting for the Dallas Cowboys.

He tricked me with three Super Bowls in the early 90s and its been all down hill since.

But the Cowboys are my team, and they are my team because they were his team.

People always ask me, “Why do you like the Cowboys, your from KY?”

I tell them, “My older brother moved to Kentucky from 

Texas when I was 11. I’ve been a Cowboys fan ever since.”

But you know, on a deeper level, the third way Donnie has impacted and influenced my life is by his spirit of endurance and perseverance and his fight.

Donnie endured a life changing accident and all that comes with that…surgeries, physical therapy, re-learning how to live and operate. 

He persevered through to his independence…graduating from college, starting his own business, living on his own, driving himself where he needed to be…

and he fought hard to overcome any obstacle in front of him…

When he told me about people parking in handicapped spaces, blocking his accessibility…

He didn’t punch down, He punched up…

and through all that, while im sure he had his moments in 

private, he never projected any self pity or a “woe is me” attitude.

To me, from the 

beginning, it was as if he said, ”OK, this is the 

situation, how do we 

proceed from here and move foreward?”

Donnie defined his life in a wheel chair, his life in a wheel chair did not define him!

His attitude, and determination inspired me to look at any 

situation I might be in and say the same thing as he did. “This is what Im dealing with, how do I move forward.”

But the thing about enduring…about persevering…about 

fighting…

it can ware you out…it  can be exhausting…

and 20 years is a long time to fight…and Donnie was tired…

so….I don’t blame Donnie…

I’m not mad at Donnie…

I love Donnie…

and I miss 

Donnie.

My heart is broken

My heart is broken with the passing of my sweet son, Donnie.

Donnie Wittler, March 23, 1972 - September 12, 2018

In Memory

Donald Joseph Wittler, Jr. (AKA Donnie, Uncle Donnie, DW, Big D, D Dub, Donaldo, Blacksheep, Great Dane) passed away Wednesday, September 12, 2018 at the age of 46.  

He was born in Elmhurst, Illinois and grew up in Roaring Springs and Alvarado, Texas and Lexington, Kentucky.  He will be remembered fondly by many family and friends in all three states.  

Donnie graduated from Alvarado HS in 1990. He moved to Lexington soon after graduation and worked as a carpenter, developing a niche in historic renovation. In 1998 he suffered a spinal cord injury that left him a quadriplegic. After the accident, he went back to school to earn an architecture technology degree at BCTC and transferred his building skills to architectural drawing and design. 

Donnie was always creating. He would design all kinds of gadgets to make his world more accessible. Donnie was passionate about improving accessibility in Lexington. He worked with the city government and was successful in significantly increasing the fine for illegally parking in a handicap space.  Donnie was also passionate about sports. He played high school football in Texas and loved his Cowboys.  

When Donnie moved to Kentucky, he embraced Lexington and its culture as his own.  He bled Blue and rarely missed watching a UK football or basketball game.  He loved the track and will be missed dearly at the Keeneland Spring and Fall meets. Donnie enjoyed bourbon and channeled his love for bourbon and design into creating beautiful pieces of bourbon barrel art. 

Donnie will be loved forever and missed by those of us left behind: His parents and step parents Donald Joseph Wittler (Lou) and Laverne Zabielski (Larry Vogt). His sisters, Danielle Wittler and Dana Logsdon (Gary), his brothers, DJ Saltigerald (Alyssa) and Johnny Saltigerald, nephews, Avery and Chuck Logsdon and step siblings, Sunshine, Rainbow, Nightsnow, Sky, Gretchen, Susanna, Timmy and Tommy. His aunts and uncles loved him like he was their son and he was like a brother to his cousins.  

Donnie had many great caretakers and aides over the years. The family recognizes their contributions to Donnie’s independence and know that he will be missed by them.  A special shout out to Joanna Lile, and Samantha Thornton and her family.  

Donnie forged many special bonds. We want to acknowledge the Rives family, Pat Logsdon, Jake, the  O’Daniels, folks at Hanover Tower, Donnie's fantasy football teammates, high school buddies, the Bourbon n’ Toulouse crew. Countless other friends and relatives helped Donnie live a full and exciting life after his life-changing accident.

Please continue sharing your beautiful stories during the reception. If we don’t get a chance to speak this evening, be sure to sign the guest book or call any time.  

Brave Soul Seeking

For soul seeking energy, I go to the ocean by surrounding myself with a sea of turquoise. Cool and calming next to all the red orange brightness and warmth I’ve been dying. Mixed messages of a life fully lived. Warm, hot one moment. Calm, cool and collected the next. I layer colors, layer clothing, layer life.

“ Focus on your bravery, not outcomes.” A wise friend said. “Really? You think I’m brave?”

“Well, of course you are brave. You’re 71. How can one not be brave having lived these many years?”

Yesterday evening, the art gallery was filled with bravery. The women in the room. The fiber art on the wall. It was earthy and alive. As though the fibers in each piece were responding to the conversations filled stories and questions.

“How did you do this?”

“Do you know the story before you begin, or does it evolve?”

“I start with the title. The story reveals itself.”

“Is your home filled with your art?”

“This is my first show. I’m new to fiber art.”

I was seeking turquoise in as many pieces of art I could find. Sometimes buried. Sometimes a pop. Leaning towards teal, I wanted a sea of calm to surround me. Something to reach my heart and find its way to my words and reveal the consequences of aging.

I really thought it would be easier. That age would be a time of coasting of emotions. I didn’t expect heartache and pain to continue as friends pass on, children suffer, grandchildren struggle and I still think I can fix everything.

Today, I will focus on formulas. Seeking turquoise. Finding more spiritual growth and empathy. I will let this sea of teals, blue and green become my shapeshifter.

The older we become,

the more need for bravery. One of the consequences of age is we see more. We experience more. We must be brave. There are more people in our life and their lives touch us. Our creative process is how we prevent suffering from overtaking us and leave room in our hearts to comfort others without taking on their pain.

Living a Layered Life

The layering begins with fabric and words

L     Living a layered life

A     All writing counts

V     Vibrancy abounds

E     Expression emanates

R     Ready

N    Never bored

E    Embracing each day

Community, the Ultimate Art

It was suggested that I admire my bravery for growth, no matter what happens. Fortunately, having an art practice allows me to do that and I encourage you to develop one also. An art practice happens when you value the process as much as what gets created. That’s where the growth lives. The act of sharing your art is where bravery lives. Bravery feeds our growth. Keeps us happy and healthy. Broadens our community.

The older we become, the more need for bravery. One of the consequences of age is we see more. We experience more. We must be brave. There are more people in our life and their suffering touches us. Our creative process is how we prevent suffering from overtaking us and leave room in our hearts to comfort others without taking on their suffering.

That’s a biggie for me. I want to fix everyone’s problem in ways that are not sustainable. I feel the weight of this desire in my shoulders, the back of my neck. My body sends me warnings in the form of headaches and anxiety lives in the pit of my stomach.

The phrase, “the art of . . .” has come into vogue. Everyone is an artisan. At first I was offended. I saw it has marketing jargon without substance. Now I see it as problem solving. I have expanded my definition of art to include anything that has problems to solve. Your creativity comes into play when you implement the solutions revealed.

Rock climbing becomes an art with the numerous problems presented with each rock. After assessing the situation, you come up with a solution and proceed keeping the most important factor in mind. I don’t  care. Of course you care that you are safe. What you don’t care about is what others think about your solution. The path you choose. Slow and around. Straight up. Or that you ask for help when needed. 

And then you share. When you share your accomplishment community is created. The ultimate art. Community lives in the act of sharing of what you create. 

Reveal

Last Friday I arrived late for Meriah Kruse’s launch of her well written, informative, succinct, step-by-step book, “Life Force Marketing.”  Fortunately, I was able to purchase a copy. Her book presents a strategy for developing a successful solopreneur business. While she describes it as “a prosperity guidebook for holistic practitioners” the information can be applied to many other small businesses. 

She teaches you to draw on your past successes and use them to develop a list of personal resources and revise the story you’ve been telling yourself about your life. Your new story becomes powerful and engaging. It enhances your marketing tool box. She shows you how to take the contemporary over used concept of “what’s your story” and transform it into an effective message that communicates who you are, what you do and what’s the problem you’re solving. 

Using her own life as an example, you could almost call it a very creative memoir. Meriah shares her successes and failures giving you insights into what’s possible in a way you can’t wait to get started implementing her ideas. The strategies she shares make it worth reading her book, even if you don’t have a business. Everyone needs to market themselves. 

I am a fabric artist. I dye fabric and design art to wear that reveals your inner beauty.

Process as Poetry

When drizzling dye

read the flow of colors

the way a kayaker reads

the flow of the river.

Patching Stories and Fabric

Thundering. 6 AM. Still dark. My dog pants, drools and paces. He tries to climb onto my lap. That is not possible. He weighs 70 pounds. I cannot take away his pain. I cannot take any of my children’s pain. I cannot solve their problems.

My coffee is bulletproof. I like that word. It protects me. It sustains me. It is made with butter and MCT coconut oil. It helps me solve my problems. It helps me eat less of what I don’t need and more of what I do. For lunch I will make massaged organic kale salad. 

My dog, Highlin', pants beside me. He was Johnny's dog. Johnny asked if he could stay with me 10 years ago when he became an extreme athlete, kayaking class five rivers. He once was lost in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Confronted three rattlesnakes finding his way home. HIghlin' has been here ever since. 

I am writing in low light at the folded down cherry dining room table. It is in the room usually called the living room. Larry’s music collection and some of our books are here. My new patchwork kimono, waiting to be photographed, hangs against the shoji screen.  The table is covered with an old lace tablecloth that I shibori dyed as part of the tapestry for my new home. It is the dark crimson of a garden rose, the color of a precious garnet, or as “Werner’s Nomenclature of Colours” describes, the outside of Quills of Terico. A purplish red. We call this room in the library.

I am old now. I am reading Stephen Jenkinson‘s book, “Come of Age, The Case for Elderhood in a Time of Trouble.” He writes, “Without  the tutelage of limits and endings, we have no elders to practice and incarnate the wisdom of enough. . . no record of noble restraint that would make us an ancestor worth claiming, no defeat of the nobility making kind.” 

Old is a good thing. Today I focus on the tiny moments. Use remnants to patchwork new designs. Find books to give away. Wait for phone calls, and for the rain to stop.

Prayer

May you take each day slowly and safely. 

A sip of mango sweetness, a rush of sunset tea. 

May you have no fear. The warmth of hot red and flaming orange fire. 

And may an answer to your every quest appear with the tingle of sweet aftertaste lingering. 

May you have happiness and abundance. A child hood Christmas stocking filled with tangerines and candy. 

Everything you ever need is there for you. Slippery and sweet. 

May your body heal itself.  May every  ache and pain be soothed and touched, every step you take be as effortless as the rush of sunset heat. 

Go as slow as you need, my dear. There is no need to hurry.

Nowhere to get to. Nowhere better than now.