Farewell Sweet Siren

It is time to let things go. To REALLY let them go. To wipe the slate clean and start anew.

The last two years have been a journey into the darkest, deepest shadows. Mirrors of love reflecting internal horrors, aching good-byes, things stolen and broken. These events have nearly silenced me.

I know that this blog has touched the hearts and eyes of very few, however, I hope that there have been small moments of joy and insight for you who have read my little pontifications. Alas, it is time to retire my blog and to say farewell to the siren.

Oh, do not fret my friends, for I am starting a new blog which will document my Bardic journey from this day forward. Why a new blog, you ask? Well, as I stated above, it is time to start fresh. In order to do that, I must detach from things I have previously used to define me. I must compost the dreams that have died and let go of the sorrow and pain that has long enough kept me from living my truth. It is time for me to walk fearlessly down the path of my destiny. So, to make it a little easier, to fill myself with a bit more faith, I lighten my load.

May my memories of the past and my dreams of the future be nothing more than bright colors upon the canvas of each present moment. May I live fully from this day forward in the joy of my heart's purpose and in the love of That Which We Cannot Name. May it be like that.

Aho, Mitakuye Oyasin!
We Are All Related!

Love,
Ms. Novadawn M.

Reflections - A Year

Sitting in the same place, in a different place. 
I'll find some vague images of days gone by.   
Twisting and turning, and hardly moving.
Too tired to sleep, too sad to cry, too hopeful to smile.
Its been gain and loss, let go and hold on.  
I'm a little lamb, or a child who fears rough edges.  
Puff myself up, and try to be strong, to find ways back to my home.  
I would slip and I'd slide again and again, til there was no more reason to try.  
And stop, I stop and I stop.  
Breathe, breathe and I breathe.  
I breathe and I breathe and I stop.

Bye, Bye Internet Suckas!

In the interest of minimizing the constant onslaught of information, images, and general clutter in my life, I am killing extraneous online presences in the forms of social networking profiles, subscriptions to various "groups" and the like.  Below are a few blog items from 2005 and 2006 which I posted on my tribe.net profile (good bye tribe!) which I would like to preserve.  I suppose this was my very first attempt at something such as this.

Mental Wanderings  - April 18, 2006

A journey through uncharted territory is both dizzying and clarifying. The senses become acute, whilst the information overwhelms. Breath and awareness are at times caught, in fear and uncertainty. Yet, in some moments, the flow of energies, thoughts, feelings, sensations, are undeniably free and focused, effortless. Like waters floating upon air and light, no friction from rocks or earth or ice, these moments create a simple affirmation that the explorations and risks into the unknown are very worthwhile.

Planks to Guard - January 1, 2006

What if a plank upon the sea was guarding my feverish desires? Just one bit of feeling blocked, keeping the rest of me at bay. Do I let my desires lead me or do I lead my desires? How open, how closed do I need to be to realize these dreams? What defines my armor?  Will I uncover my miraculous horror, a vulnerability waiting to be bitten? My fantasies fold in around me and muffle my sight. I resist the expansiveness of my being.  Tell me how to be truthful, and I will fall into myself and open pieces of the contained universe. I will allow an unhindered inertia to float me beyond the plank.

Ideas - November 20, 2005

I have a flow of ideas streaming around and through me like a rough and untidy waterfall. Pounding down the depths of considerations and limitations. Fears forming and failing me. Water. This is the center. Sound and Motion are the medium. I'm being archaic as I hesitate to reveal these little thoughts lest they wander off with someone else. But should I be their sole Master? I'm supposedly anti-authoritarian. Perhaps they will play a little with me.

Charming - September 29, 2005

I'm charmed to meet you, said the walrus to the hair. The hair plucked up its courage to wander the fair. The walrus went with, despite being a chair.

Moving at the Speed of...

Once again, I'm moving into a new place.  I've determined that I've moved about 29 times in my 30 years.  That's almost an average of once per year for every year I've been alive.  Most of this moving has taken place since I was 16.  The longest I've stayed in one place since then is 1.5 years.  The word "stability" has little meaning to me, it's an elusive concept, and it frightens me.  Putting down roots is a lovely thought, however, it takes a level of commitment that I have yet to find within myself.  I am a short ranging vagabond overburdened with the accoutrement of society.  Things, lots and lots of things have followed with me, everywhere I've moved, and while I've gotten better at streamlining and minimizing I still feel the heavy weight of stuff.  Whether it's stuff that I'm sentimentally attached to or things I find necessary and practical, in truth, most of it is extraneous.  Most of it is a lie about a dream life that can never be attained, it is a picture of a fractured world too obsessed with materiality, wealth and accumulation of goods and resources as markers of status.  Why do I hang on so stubbornly to these objects?  Why do I allow them to burden my body and mind through move after move?  What do they really give me?  Are they my roots, are they my stability?

Healing Through Creativity

I am looking for a way out of this cycle.
I am searching for a beacon as I lay afloat this rocky ground.
I'm hoping to find a way to hear my story
and to share it with you
and to have you listen
and then I listen to you.

For at least 10 years I have struggled to make sense of my life, I have struggled to feel joy, I have struggled to see my successes.  I have been caught in a cycle of chronic discontent.  Lately, I have been thinking about how to heal myself and my life creatively.   I've also been thinking a lot about how I can make this blog more relevant and useful to others while using it to give me focus and utilize it as a space for me to document my progress in life.  And, so, I have decided to make a task here.  I will begin documenting my progress of healing through creativity.  It is my goal and intention to use creative expression as a way to discover myself.  It is additionally my goal and intention to integrate creative expression into my daily life, not as a career, not as a way to get attention, but as a way to enhance the quality of my life and the lives of others.  I will be seeking ways to bring creativity into the work that I do and into the play that I partake in.  I may do things that most of us consider creative, like dancing, singing, and drawing, but I'll also be doing things like making plant medicines and healthy foods, learning how to identify birds and bugs, and practicing communication skills.  The experiment is to find out how everyday life can be an opportunity to excel at our innate god-like ability to create joy, meaning and authenticity in our lives.  My objective is to unleash my potential by living my dreams one little step at a time.  My thesis: life is better when we are empowered to express ourselves creatively in all aspects of our lives.  Here I begin a new way.  The goal is opening my heart in order to hear my story, so that I can share it with you, so that you can listen and then I listen to you.

My Own Center

For years now I have been struggling to find focus, definition, a goal, or some sense of purpose. Creatively speaking, I have been yearning for a specific discipline to center my work in. However, every time I’d come to the conclusion that it’s music or more specifically singing or maybe even writing, I would feel a great sense of loss for those things I was relegating to the backseat. Instead of feeling sure and fulfilled with the choice I was making, I felt an emptiness. It would seem right until I started to remember my love and passion for all the other sorts of art making that I do. One problem has been that I don’t want to be too much of a generalist, a novice at many crafts, a master at none. Being spread so thin amongst so many art forms has felt too chaotic and ungrounded. I have been struggling. In order to help myself along, to find some clue as to what this calling is and what I should do about it, I have read multiple books on creativity, on being an artist, on what it means, what it takes to succeed. These books have helped to an extent, they have soothed my fears, helped me take a closer look at the ways in which I sabotage myself, and have given me greater resolve and inspiration to make something of my creative urges. However, they have not proven to be the source of the deepest questions I continue to ask myself, they have failed in telling me exactly what to do and how to do it. Not that I consciously expected them to hold such personal and specific wisdom, though an unconscious part of myself secretly hoped they would. Answers to such questions are rarely found in the external, which my mind/ego finds quite tragic. Answers such as these are usually found within. The journey within, to the essence of self where the truth lies, seems like a lot of hard work, especially when we have never learned how to do it. Often times, one must be patient for insights to emerge as layer after layer is slowly revealed or like a riddle the answer is deceptively simple, so we don’t see it right away because we are looking for something far more complex and convoluted. It has taken me years to realize that there is no simple answer to my dilemma. The answer I’ve been seeking has remained elusive, because on the one hand, I am not ready for it and on the other, there is no answer to be had. That said, with the help of books, inward journeying and conversations with loved ones, I have come to a small revelation of late, which in it’s beautiful simplicity has released some of the pressure I’ve felt all these years to find a sense of direction. I am the creative project I have been seeking, I am the grounding, the focus, and the sense of purpose. I have been slowly discovering and remembering the shape of myself beneath the stone. It has been a glacial process, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes harrowing, always deeply rewarding. Being alive is in itself an act of creation, and as I work on myself, that which I am becomes ever more apparent. As I become, I open to the work, to the task I came here to do. By creating myself, I am readied to birth the currents of heart and spirit who want to emerge through me. As I continue this process, my way will be revealed. All I must to is remember to have patience, to be compassionate with myself and to remember the importance and validity of being my own center. From there, I am better prepared to share the gifts I’ve been given and to be of service to all my relations.

Cookies are Round and So is the Moon

It’s a full moon tonight and I seem to have limitless energy. I sit here at 1:15 in the morning, baking cookies and making tea. What’s come over me? Late night baking is usually the last thing I want to do. Maybe there’s some romantic urge in me being extracted by the gravitational pull of that full moon which inspires me to undertake such domestic expressions. Perhaps it’s my need for silence, discipline, and simplicity. There’s something humbling about baking, especially when your baking requires the omission of many usual suspects. For me, it’s gluten grains, eggs, soy and often times, dairy. My sort of baking is a meditative adventure. Following a recipe systematically, being as exact as possible so as to allow the magical chemical reactions to take place and end in a tasty oral experience, is much like knitting or singing a well known song. Follow the steps, take your time, let it flow, don’t think too much, feel it. One of the best things about baking is that I’m not a baker, and I don’t aspire to be. It doesn’t matter if the world loves my cookies. I don’t spend my days assessing my strengths and weaknesses or trying to decided just what sort of baking I should specialize in. I can follow the rules, or tweak them a bit and experiment, i can eat the batter as I go or I can throw it all out the window if I want. There’s really nothing at stake for me. My identity is far from invested in my baking ability and experience, or lack there of. It’s a liberating endeavor, especially considering that so often, the things I aspire to accomplish are mired in a life time of illusions, expectations, hopes, fears and dreams. Staying up till the wee hours on a juicy full moon night and baking for the sheer experience of it is a way to remember the sunshine feeling of joy and to rediscover the centering silence of play.