Floating

I was so excited to check out the sensory deprivation tank.  By the time my appointment came around, I was kind of freaking out.  I felt like my whole body was vibrating.  I was thinking a thousand miles an hour.  Thinking about what I wanted to think about, thinking about my day, making a mental to-do list of what I wanted to get out of this experience.  It was really hard not to at least have a song in my head. I don't know if my anticipation had anything to do with it, or if I just had too much coffee and thyroid meds beforehand.  Either way, when I finally let it all go, the whole experience was amazing.  I didn't know what to expect, but since I love getting lost in my own head (gotta love introverts), I had high hopes for it to be helpful somehow.  It really was.  Afterwards, I felt more clear, more centered, more myself.  It was like lucid dreaming in that it was a mental challenge, but I had less control than I do in lucid dreams. I've had a whole lifetime to practice dream control though, so maybe subsequent visits to the tank will be even better.  When I'm having a lucid dream, I can direct the dream to go almost however I want.  I can decide to walk through a door, or change the atmosphere, or talk to a certain person.  But if I try to control too much, the dream vanishes or I wake up.  This was like that but I had to quiet my mind entirely.  I really had to just be an open channel and see what came into me.  When I thought too much about what I wanted to see, or what I was seeing, I'd lose it.  I'd get stuck in my tangle of thoughts and then I'd become more aware of my body and all the magic would be gone. I think the language center of my brain is super active. I was mentally writing what happened moments after it happened. Redundant and strange, I know. It was hard to shut that down and be only receptive.

My tank was the original old one that the owner built himself. The hippie dude at the front said it was the lucky tank and he had his best experiences in it. It was painted black, and seemed kind of old and gross. Chipped edges on the wooden door. No handle to open it from the inside. Only a notch at the edge that looked like somebody clawed it away with their nails. I kind of liked it though. It had soul. The other ones looked very clinical, clean and white. When I looked into the black water, it looked like a bottomless pit, but the water was only about a foot deep. They give you wax earplugs, a floaty neck pillow, and Vaseline to cover any scratches or sores because the salt stings. I used them all, stripped, climbed in, and shut the hatch. I was a little worried about the pitch black because I get a little freaked in the dark sometimes, but I was fine. It took a little while to get comfy and relax. It helped to put my arms up over my head because my elbows bent out and floated at a strange angle when they were at my sides. Anyway, after 10 minutes or so (I suppose) I felt like my whole body had fallen asleep.  I was all tingly and I was both more and less aware of my body.  Then I started feeling like I was wrapped in a cotton ball.  If people can vanish, I'm sure this is what it feels like. Soon I could have been floating in air, tipping and slowly rotating sometimes but not to the point of being disorienting. My breathing became extremely slow and shallow.  I focused on my it and then only my heartbeat, and then I was just somewhere else.

My first visions were very elemental.  It totally makes sense that my mind went to that place.  Floating in water with no external stimuli, divorcing myself from my body. Of course I'm going to contemplate my place in the universe and all that stereotypical hippie earthy stuff.  This was extreme though.  My emotional reactions and the physical sensations I was having were intense.

It started with swimming in the ocean.  First I saw huge barnacles extending their feather tongues and I was feeling them. They were licking me and then they were holding me up.  A mermaid zipped by, really quickly.  So cheesy.  But then I was swimming with this huge, purply-red octopus. I was staring into one of its giant eyes, and it was blobbing around like octopi do.  It put its tentacles around me and the whole time l was looking into its big eye and we were just taking each other in.  I was feeling its skin.  It felt harder than I thought it would, and I licked one of its suction cups and felt bad that I've eaten them. Mmm, sushi.  I felt extremely connected to this giant beast. It was so gentle and huge.  A woman appeared.  Some kind of ocean mother-goddess or something.  She was enormous.  She cradled me in her arms and breastfed me.  It didn't seem weird. Obviously, I have some unresolved mother issues.

From there I went to the surface.  Not the beach though, I was in the middle of the ocean among the giant waves.  It was the middle of the night and the waves were huge and angry.  The wind was blowing cold, harsh, with a stinging spray.  There was a man standing on a little canoe type boat.  He was furious.  At me.  This storm was directed at me.  I didn't know why nor was I concerned to find out.  The man was glaring at me with his face all contorted in disgust.  I didn't care though because the cold wind and all the power and fury of the sea around me felt so amazing.  I was thankful.  

That may have been the first time the kiwi bird made its appearance.  About different 3 times throughout my float, a kiwi would pop into my field of vision and look at me.  That was all.  It would pop up, look at me, turn its head, peck around.  It was really confusing and interrupted whatever else was going on.  It was like someone had changed the tv channel all of a sudden.  I tried to shoo it away because I was irritated by the distraction.  I didn't feel any connection to this little bird.  It wasn't doing anything or telling me anything.  Just bopping around.   

That made me start thinking too much and my visions stopped.  Wondering, " Why this flightless bird?  Where did it come from? What was the point of that?" I would find out later on.  

After a bit, I found myself sitting in the treehouse I built when I was about seven years old.  I saw my body from above, sitting there.  It was me in the present, not as a child.  My treehouse grew around me until it was an actual house instead of the sticks and twine lashings I had put together as a child.  The roof was open to the sky.  The tree grew taller and taller, far above all the other trees.  Now I was seeing it from my own perspective inside the house.  I was sitting on my favorite perch where I always sat, but laying flat on the floor, looking out the roof.  The sun was shining and I was soaking in every bit of energy from the sun. My body was like a solar panel.  The chlorophyll in the grass beneath me was glowing, like an infrared photo, reflecting the sunlight back up to the sky.  We were in a sphere of light.  Outside the bubble there was darkness.  Darkness and badness.  A story started to unfold in the back of my mind.  I need to write that too.  The sun slid out of view and the sky grew dark.  The stars came out and started to rain down on me.  I was afraid they might burn me, but they felt like snowflakes, so I caught some of them on my tongue.
I heard, "This is your strength."  I thought of who I was when I was 7 and I built that treehouse, and it made so much sense. What I needed and what I never had, and everything else. It was so simple.

I saw glimpses of things.  Significant moments from my life.  Images I've never seen that I want to make.  I saw a woodcut of a middle-aged man hanging his arm out of the window of an old pickup truck.  I saw it as a black & white print, but the guy is a character with a backstory that came to me along with the image.  I'll have to write that out separately.  It goes along with the bubble of light.  In part of it my mom, or the mother character in the story is frozen and shattered.  The dad takes a piece of her and leaves to live alone in a deep cave beneath an ice tundra so he can keep her forever. 

I started to become aware of the salt crystalizing on my stomach.  I rubbed it and it felt really cool, but made me itchy and then I wished I hadn't touched it.  Then I felt the water droplets running off my stomach where I'd rubbed it.  I would go back and forth between enjoying playing with the physical sensations and feeling like I was running out of time and needed to get back out of my body as much as I could.  Like when you keep looking at the clock because you know you have to get up soon and you don't have enough time to sleep, but you need to get to sleep!  I didn't need to worry about that though.  The 90 minutes felt like 3 hours.  I started wondering if they had forgotten to turn on the music when the time was up, or if there was an electrical malfunction with the speakers.  The thought crossed my mind that I might be fried, or I guess boiled, since salt water is such a good conductor of electricity.

After that I saw a man working in a field somewhere.  I heard music. Seemed like it was somewhere in South America.  He wore a hat and a red button up shirt and had one dark tooth.  There were tons of other people working on the farm too. Women and children as well, but he was the only one I really focused on.  He seemed happy, which was surprising.  Then it was night time and everyone was dancing to some street musicians.  There were colored lights hanging up.

I had a very physical experience of being an oak tree.  I realize how completely trite and ridiculous that sounds.  Like a yoga pose or a kid in an elementary school play, but this just felt so huge and complex.  I don't know how else to say it.  I felt not just grounded, but wound into the soil with root systems plunging far down into the earth and crawling outwards for a whole city block.  The strangest part was the physical/spatial sensation of being so enormous. Of existing down in the earth and up in the sky at the same time.  Blowing in the wind...being so strong, yet still flexible and always at the wind's mercy. Being both solid wood and tender leaves. My leaves were like a compound insect eye.  Each leaf was its own eye, so I could see in all directions.  I also had this amazing sense of place from observing my plot for so many years, and seeing people come and go and live their lives. I saw how things changed or didn't change around me.  I was aware of my mortality and vulnerability too.  I knew I could be used as a resource, but also felt like a member of the community. It was strange how suddenly this vision came about. I was plunged straight into it, and then had to figure out what this feeling was. It was kind of shocking.

Then the music came on to let me know my time was up. When I sat up, I still felt like a giant.  A giant made of black negative space. The change from being out of my body to coming back into it and moving myself around was pretty disorienting.  I got salt water in my eyes and that really sucked.  Blindly groped my way to the shower to rinse it out.  I felt extremely relaxed and rested.  Way better than after I get a massage.  When I get a massage, I have the other person's energy to deal with.  Sometimes that's really good and sometimes it is strange, but it is always there and means I have to deal with it in some way.  On the drive home, I was very aware of the lights inside my car and the noise the tires made on the road.  It almost felt like it wasn't my car because it didn't feel familiar like it usually does.  I slept really well for a week afterward.  I fell asleep earlier than normal, which is very weird for me.  I remembered my dreams every night.  I think I still feel more centered and calm two weeks later.  I'd like to do this every year around my birthday.  Seems like a good way to reassess, reconnect, renew. Re-everything. Reading through these visions might not seem that impressive, but it was really emotional, visceral, and real.  I cried in there.  I heard things I needed to hear.  It made me feel more connected to myself and to whatever I need to be connected to.  Even if I don't even know what that is.  

When I was telling Mahlon about my experiences, he explained the kiwi.  Maybe an hour before I got into the tank, he spent some time with his grandma.  She gave him one of his grandpa Jack's old watches.  The watch was in a wooden box his grandpa brought back from New Zealand with a kiwi inlaid in the top.  He thought that was strange because earlier in the day he had been having a conversation with our friend, David, about bolo ties.  I don't know how that came up, but he mentioned he had a bolo tie with a kiwi bird on it but hadn't worn it since he was a kid.  David didn't know kiwis were birds!  He thought they were only fruits, so Mahlon had to explain to him what a kiwi bird is. Kiwis were a strange theme in Mahlon's day.  When I told my mom, she wondered if that was Mahlon's grandpa trying to send him some kind of message from the other side or something.  I don't think that really makes sense.  I think it was just a connection between our minds.  Either way, that is freaky weird stuff. I love it!

Back to the world of external stimuli, until next year.


 

FAIL

What is my excuse? Summer? Violin? I don't know, but this is totally lame. I haven't kept up with my idea of weekly updates at all. It's been almost 2 months. Oh I am SO bad at following through. Sad face. Boo to me.

I have been procrastinating making a coat for my sister that I think is just hideous. I am a selfish seamstress, and I really only like to make what I find desireable. If you ask me to make you something, I will do it, but I will hate every single minute of it. Unless it was my idea. My design. My fabric choice. Everything. Mine, mine, mine. I am selfish. I don't want to make this giant, bathrobe shaped, dusty rose, faux fur coat. I'm not making that up. That is my current road block. Me no likey. I'm determined to just bang it out and be done with the damn thing.

So my vest sits with its buttons all in a pile waiting for holes and attaching. My stripey skirt fabric is dying to be flouncing and swirling around my ass in this gorgeous summer weather, but it's just sitting there next to the skirt I'm going to reverse engineer. And the bolero-ish jacket pattern doesn't even have a fabric to go with it. Oh, and I have a lovely piece of coral that I found in Puerto Rico that really wants to be a pendant. It looks like a tree and wants wire wrapping.

But, I have been making the strings sing a bit better, and did a wire sculpture that is almost ready to be given to some friends. Even mounted in into a block of wood that I painted. I reorganized some stuff in the house and it feels a lot more functional. I must focus! I must have some sewing time. It seems I must eek it out in the wee morning and late night hours, and I've just been resisting that.

Goals for this week:
1. Adjust the shoulder seam, and finish drafting the collar piece for Rose's fugly coat. Cut the final fabric.

2. Vest buttons on!

3. Finish sculpture.

Next week:
1. Stripey Skirt! May need to buy a zipper.
2. Design shirt to go with it. Use the white dot lace.

Summer Sew Along

I just happened upon a summer sew along that sounds ultra perfect.  Make 5 must have summer pieces of your choosing that fit in to some cutesy categories.
found it here:

I'm already planning on a summer skirt, a bamboo sweatshirt jacket, and some long shorts.  Need 2 more pieces.  Probably will be a top and a dress.



Oh yay! Got the badge on there! Now I wonder if I can put it in the side bar. I'm so bad at blogging.

Fancy Pants

My creative life is still mostly been taken hostage by violin practice.  However, I managed to make a tiny dent in the UFO pile.  About a year ago I scored a nice pair of wide legged black pants for $5 from the Target clearance section.  I think they were that cheap because they were made for giraffes.  Or spaghetti noodles.  I had to figure out the blind hem stitch to do it correctly, because these are kind of fancy pants.  A top stitched hem would look awful.  Once I got the folding all situated, I was finished in about 7 minutes.  So professional!  Now I have really nice pants that cost me $5 and 7 minutes!  Plus a year of procrastination.  I also put a fancy patch on some really old, but still awesome jeans that had a hole in the knee.  I tried to keep wearing them and just go with it, but people kept asking me what happened to my jeans.  Jeeze Louise, people!  It wasn't all that long ago that holes were cool.   The patch is a bit of heavily embroidered fabric that I found in a bag of trims and notions at a thrift store.  It's been in my stash for a long time.  My stash is epic, and I love it when I've been holding onto something waiting for the right purpose, and then it finds its place.  Very satisfying.  And now I will go attempt to play my fiddle.  One of these days it will actually sound nice.  Maybe.  Photos and another video soon to come.

Thanks, Babe.

Last night, the husband noticed I've been dressing differently.  In a good way.  Ever since I tossed all my fugly clothes, I only wear stuff that makes me feel good.  Because why pass up an opportunity to feel good?  Don't think too hard on that one.  Anyway, this is something easy and I have to get dressed anyway.  Might as well choose the good stuff.  It's kind of amazing how much of a little boost it gives me to not look like I'd rather be in bed.  I feel ready.  It's good.  Have I mentioned, good? 

I'd say that my little project has accomplished something already.

Now, if I could just put my violin down long enough to sew again.  The violin stuff I have to work on this week is kind of tedious and boring, so maybe it will happen.  (okay, it's been a couple days since I wrote this, and nope.  I'm still practicing just as much.)  But it's also really hard and cool, so I should put the time in.  I absolutely love feeling pulled in these different directions.  And miraculously, my kids are still learning and we are still fed and clothed and the house isn't utter squalor.  Even more miraculously, (not now, but for the last couple weeks) I cleaned ALL THE THINGS and kept it up!  I think because my attitude is in a much more positive place.  I'm not resenting the things I need to do.

Today I wept. And Painted. And Practiced.

All day I had a lump in my throat and tears on the brink.  I even lost a few.  Not sure why.  Emotional letdown.  I felt so good last week.  Bright.  Invincible almost.  Today I feel vulnerable.  Soft.

My solution was to put on the paint smeared 7 Of All Mankind jeans I found at The Bins that fit me perfectly.  I stopped there on the way back from ArtFest.  I admit part of the reason I bought them is because I've heard they are 'spensive, and they were my size.  And paint-smeared!  It was a sign.  A Buy Me sign.  They were sitting near another pair of skinny jeans that will fit into my boots.  They also fit me perfectly (without even trying them on) Score!  Also got a nightstand to refinish, a nice wool sweater, a sparkly grey scarf I love, and a leather purse I also love.  I imagine these all came from the same fabulous gal who should totally give me all her cast offs in the future.  Anyhow, I figured the painty jeans would be great to wear when I need a kick in the pants.  I do well with some sort of uniform.  I used to wear certain clothes when I designed purses.  It got me into work mode.  So I donned the pants and started squirting paint into my hands and just went at the canvas.  That's when I really wept.  I can't put it into words at the moment, but it had to be released.

 I decided a while ago that I wanted to paint Anne Frank.  I need a first project that isn't trying too hard.  Something that just is what it is, but is more than a bowl of goddamn fruit.  I got started, and then had to let it dry because it was getting dangerously close to a smeary mess.

Of course, girls wanted in on the fun.  On canvas boards no less!  Paper is just no longer good enough.  Cardboard will also do.  Must remember to keep all cardboard from now on.  I had to lay down the law on my paints and brushes though.  They have good paint and brushes, but don't touch mama's!

They were very excited to follow my lead by painting with their hands and smearing paint on my pants!  Thank you Target for the clearance plastic tablecloth.  I drag it out whenever they want to paint.  I used to wipe it off every time, but those days are over.  It is for art now and nothing else.

Paint needed to dry and the girls got into the tub, so I practiced my violin for a while.  I was working on the next two lines of Autumn Leaves, which I had just figured out.  I YouTubed a million versions.  This one is beyond cool but not exactly what I need to learn.  Still helps to have something in my head while I'm playing.  My teacher is going to make me a recording of this song and the scales I'm learning.  Get on it, Luke.  I want it now!  I'm really excited for that.  I'm such a nerd.

It also lead me down a fun YouTube road of other Edith Piaf music.  I need to watch Ma Vie En Rose again!  Back to the song... so I just barely have it memorized, and I still have to work on where the notes land.  No frets!  Violin is hardcore shit.  It's crazy all the things you have to be aware of, and how it comes together.  I'm starting to be able to think of the how it should sound and know where my fingers need to go rather than just visualizing what's on the page.  I think that's why I'm doing so much better without the tapes.  This video was my second time doing all 4 lines together.  The first half I'm just trying to remember how it goes, and the second part I was actually putting it together.  I was also trying to bow lighter and faster than I have been.  It's harder for me, and I've only been working on it since yesterday.  It bounces and scratches around more, especially when I'm playing near the tip.  The sound is much nicer though.  The whole thing is pretty painful, but I thought it would be fun to see how I progress.  Not bad for 3 weeks in, right? Hmm.  The video isn't synchronized with the audio.  Ugh.  Why so wonky, computer?

Oh, and that shirt I'm wearing, I made a long time ago from the Built By Wendy Stretch book.  The fabric has sparkly gold threads that make me happy and I love the boatneck and longer than usual sleeves.  This past week, I've worn at least 3 pieces I made myself.  Anyway, after all the paint, and noise, and now words, I feel much better.  Hmm, so I just realized you can't really see my shirt in the bad video.  Whatever.  This is my self indulgent blog of frivolous ramblings on beautifulness, so I will talk about it anyway.  pffffft.

Sunrise Poem

Sleepily they squirm
and stretch back to life
Always my eyes blink open first
The warm glow of them
their lush skin and breath
My velvet morning prayer
Grateful for these chains
I wrap myself in their weight
Plant my feet
and rise

Coming Down

Just a week ago I was about to leave for ArtFest, full of nerves and excitement.  No idea what the next few days held for me.  Now I'm back and it's over.  But I'm so changed.  I feel like this came into my life at the perfect moment.  The past year or so, I have been really dissecting myself and trying to figure myself out.  I suppose that came about because I found myself extremely unhappy for seemingly no reason.  I felt empty and dissatisfied even though all my needs were met.  Except they weren't.  I'd become accustomed to not listening to myself.  I'd shrunken down deep within myself and I was still in there, small and screaming to not be forgotten.  So I had to figure that out.  It was quite a process, and obviously will never be finished, but I've made a lot of progress.  I had to give myself permission to fulfill more than just my needs. To realize that the things I feel drawn to feed my spirit and help me grow and if I don't do them, I am committing spiritual suicide.  There's no point to that.  I'd become empty and disconnected.  It was like the plug had been pulled and I was slowly draining out of myself.  Now is refilling time, and I feel better than I have in, well, probably ever.  The best part of ArtFest was being surrounded by creative people, who live creative lives.  All of them were brave.  Fearless in one way or another.  Their souls were expansive.  Everyone was an open book.  An open link waiting to hold onto something and just feel it and learn from it before letting it go.  There was only one person I met who seemed clouded in jaded judgment.  It was painfully obvious that she was lugging some heavy baggage, but also so refreshing that this attitude was the odd one out instead of the other way around.  I'm ready to go forward.  I'm excited and curious to see what each new day brings from here.  And I'm determined to make it good.

Drawing Again

Trying to keep the juices flowing.  Worked on these over the past few weeks.  I was looking at paisley designs online for something simple to paint in the top corners of the window trim and thought I should draw some.  They turned into creatures.

Bird Lady

Strange fish with earth in its belly. 

I am not so sure about this one.  Boring Whale.

This is really weird, and not like anything I've ever made before.  I saw a shadow that registered immediately as this image in my mind, so I ran for a pen and put it on paper.  Standing on a ledge, feeling the wind.  I started with her hair and face.  By the time I got to her hands, I'd kind of lost the mojo.

Carpet Bag

I made this bag out of a rug I had that started unraveling.  I loved the rug and didn't want to chuck it.  It took me forever to decide what shape to make the bag.  As in, it's been on my to-make list for about 8 years.  I decided I just wanted to fit my big sketchbook/journal in it and sewed onward without a full plan.  It's always so hard for me to decide when to stop designing and just go forward.  After a while it's pretty futile anyway, because things always come up during the construction.  I'll have a new idea, or something works well or doesn't.  A trim will call to me.. I just love the process.  It's such a conversation.  I couldn't wait to use it, so I didn't even sew up the hole in the lining for turning.  Just filled it up and went out.  Still need to stitch that up!  It has an inner pocket, magnetic snap, detachable strap (salvaged hardware from a purse strap I scrounged from a friend's Goodwill pile) and little round silver studs for fun.  Red taffeta lining $1/yd from the outdoor sale at Fabric Depot, and parts of the belt of my grandma's old rain jacket.

These pictures kind of suck, but I just wanted to get them up.

Spring Purge

This project came to mind, and then this new blog sprung from that idea.  It's a pretty simple idea, and I think blogging might help me keep the ball rolling. 

During a fleeting moment of very late winter sunshine, I was inspired to do a hardcore purge of my clothes.  I have been working on decluttering the whole house for several years, but getting past the panicky feelings that I may never have extra cash again, or I might need these slightly too small pants, or I could make something fabulous out of this holey flannel shirt... it is an ongoing process.  Each time I do a purge, it gets easier to give things up.  I've read all the books.  It's All Too Much, Apartment Therapy, The Messies Manual, tons of organizing books.  My house is still cluttered all the time.  I guess I'm finally at the point where I can walk the talk, at least in the clothes department.  I decided to get rid of absolutely everything I don't love or need.  Every single thing.  In another week or so, I'll probably take a second look and get rid of more.  My aim is not to have a closet that looks like it's out of Real Simple magazine.  I just want everything I have to be worth having. 

From here on out, I will sew everything that I feel is missing from my wardrobe.  Hopefully I will customize some patterns, alter some of my existing clothes, and make the things that have been bouncing around in my mind waiting to be born.  And I'll blog about it.  What lucky readers you are!  Wow, this seemed so much more exciting before I actually started writing about it.  Now it seems really boring.  But that is okay.  It can be just for me!  I figure this will increase my sewing skills, give me a reason to write (maybe not the most beneficial kind of writing, but it's something), share, and work on my self discipline as I try to keep this thing moving forward on a weekly basis.

Here's my heap of clothes waiting to be donated.