::Accepting::

 

This wire word I made for my

wonderful aunt

who chose this word

as hers for the year.

 

To be "accepting" -

it's not an easy place to be,

arms open, palms spread wide,

letting go of what's yours,

or what you wanted to be yours,

and accepting what is...

 

Reality -

hopes and dreams

don't always come to fruition,

lives end too early,

there are bumps and snags in the road,

and we are not always quick to accept

what comes our way

(at least, I know I am not quick to)

yet there is freedom,
I think,

to be found

in "accepting"

. . . . . . 

In Front of Me

"It is very difficult for us to comprehend and value our own lives. 

It is much easier for us to see things outside ourselves."

  Natalie Goldberg in Writing Down the Bones

 

 

I'll always be Brianne,

wife of my husband,

mother of my children,

child of God.

 



 

I'll always be an artist, a writer, a dreamer -

those are essential for me to be me.

 

There will be parts of me that are shed away,

making room for others to grow stronger -

and as I go through the changes,

I must resolve to accept all of me, lovingly.



A creation,

created,

and

creating -

that is me.

 

"I've come to understand that the creative process is not about creating something separate from myself; it's about creating WHO I AM.  I create myself through my creations."

Alison Strickland in Harvesting Your Journals

::Patience::Trust::Persistence::

These words - patience, trust, persistence -

are words that I have recently sculpted for

three different dear friends of mine.

I love sculpting these soul words;

their message intertwined with the metals

twisted to create them, my thoughts interweaving

with prayers lifted into the air.

 

"{t}he word patience means willingness to stay where we are and live out the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us. :: Henri Nouwen" 

(The quote above is one I found recently on someone's blog.)

 



 

Trust & patience serve as ingredients for persistence,

 



"I was most happy when some friends arrived and brought the news that you persist in following the way of Truth. Nothing could make me happier than getting reports that my children continue diligently in the way of Truth!" 3 John 1:1

The Wood Duck

It was at Women's Wellness Weekend that symbols from

the in-between fell into my path. 

And I received.

 

 

 

 Kim held a workshop, a wellness circle, with the topic "no coincidences".  All of us who participated had stories to share of times in which we followed the leading of Something Greater without fully understanding it; but fully trusting that it was the right thing to do.  Meredith shared how she met her husband by traveling to a tiny town in Ecuador which someone shared the name of - she went to the smaller town of the same name, but there was obviously a reason.  Emily shared how she stepped out into the unknown by participating in a group gathering for women in business and met someone who became a great encourager to her.  Muni shared how she met her husband, who had come to Brazil to minister to the Baha'i faith community, and how she had dreamed of him.

 

I shared about the items I found over the last day, small things that were in my path and I collected, wondering of their deeper meaning and messages.  One was a wooden bead found under my bunk as I placed my suitcase and shoes underneath it.  Another was a safety pin, found outside on the dirt path leading to the hall where we ate our meals, attended workshops, and danced for Zumba.  The last was a little yellow wooden duck, obviously used for kids' crafts at the camp, which I found on the path leading down to the lake on my way to check out the archery and BB gun range. 

 

 

"I believe that animals can be spirit guides," Kim explained, after suggesting that the bead could serve as a reminder that I am part of things (which means a lot to me.)  I took this piece of information in my pocket as I left from the weekend, planning to research it more.  The bead also reminds me of the infinitesimal, which holds great meaning for me.

 

I believe that God, by His Spirit, sends us messages through the in-between, and that we can read the messages if we care to.  Think about dreams, the symbols, numbers, the word or bird that we keep seeing, that seems to be looking at us right in our face.  Think about why we are attracted to certain animals, like my grandmother who loved giraffes, or my grandmother who loved owls.  Why do we connect with them so, what does this tell us about ourselves, what we are striving for, seeking, and the characteristics that we connect with?

This yellow duck looked like a rubber ducky.  What could it possibly mean?  When I made the connection - it is a wooden duck... A WOOD DUCK!!  And it's YELLOW - colors have meaning!  I was then able to extract much more from the messages I was reading on the websites I searched and gleaned from.  The wood duck WAS featured as a character all its own on websites that gave insight into the meaning of dream symbols and of Native American spirit guides, totems.  There is much connection to a world beyond here.   A world in which the Spirit, very much alive and speaking, has not left us to navigate this world alone but has left us with "The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft."

I know I am being spoken to, taught by, and guided by the One with whom I have entrusted my life.  And my desire is to keep my eyes and ears open to the message being sent through the in-between, the world beyond, and I will hold on to the meaning of the symbols that are sent to me.  I will listen to the messages being whispered in the silence.

I will notice that it is more than just coincidence when I log in to Facebook and see this posted, after I began to write this post early this morning...

These immature Wood Duck are a secretive bird commonly found in hidden ponds http://ow.ly/i/NRbS

Do you have stories of symbols that speak to you?

P.S.  I must share a little about what I discovered of the safety pin, too.  I read that it is a symbol of unity, and that it was used as a way for the Dutch to identify themselves when Nazi Germany was taking over their country.  The safety pin was worn by everyone who struggled for their freedom.  It was, as I read, "worn not just as an act of defiance but a symbol of hope and freedom."

 

For Myself

Notes to self; please remember -
I can't blog for anyone else.  I have to do this for myself.  I have to use this space to fill it with what I love, what I want to see, what I want to share, what I want this place to be when I come back to it for a place to be.  I can't blog hoping that people will comment or notice.  I have to be strong in me.  I have to be sure that I am authentically honoring me here in this place. 

 

Do I like what I'm doing?

Are my collections satisfying?

Am I able to share my thoughts paired with pictures of things

I wanted to capture and realized at certain moments?

Will I be delighted to share this place with my loved ones,

and myself when I am older?

Is it documenting my inner world sufficiently, to me?

By MY standards? 

Am I being myself? 

Do I like the life I am offering? 

How do I see me? 

Am I seeing me, more clearly?

::Resting::

Scroll to the bottom for update to see who won the giveaway!

Ssshhhh....  she's resting....

Making the word "resting" for a dear friend who shares her words, art, and heart at Kingfisher Crossing was a little bit hard for me.  It's not that the word was hard to sculpt, no, but the word itself was a hard one to meditate on, to pray about, to settle into.  I'm most often on the go, and keep busy with many things to do, lots going on in my head.  Resting was a good word to sculpt, because I needed to messages that only resting can bring, as she does.

I originally sculpted "freedom" when I followed an urge that led me to the wire on the shelves of a local hardware store.

Since then, I have been sculpting more and more words, for friends, family, acquaintances.  It's a therapeutic process that I enjoy as I wait for the water to boil, sit down to watch the Olympics or So You Think You Can Dance, especially during the commercial breaks, or while I am relaxing on the couch.

One of my best friends, my loyal friend I call her, because she has been with me through so many of my changes, and always accepts me for me and listens and talks to me, had a vision she shared with me about a page of all the pictures of wire words on my blog; everyone's journey's captured on a page. I'm adding to it here, on the Wire Word Sculptures page - most are linked to either the recipient's webpage or to a blog post I've written about the word. 

If you ask me, I'd probably make you one.  But today, I'm offering a giveaway.  It'll be open all week, with the last entries being accepted on Friday (August 17th).  Would you like a wire word of your own?  If so, you may enter by leaving a comment here on my blog, with your word.  If you'd like to, please share a link to any blog post you may have written about your word.  For an extra entry, "like" my page on Facebook, and let me know you've done so (or if you already have done so).  One lucky person will win a free wire word from me (you must be willing to share your address so I can mail it to you when finished!)  I will announce the winner on Saturday, August 18th.

To read the lovely post over at Kingfisher Crossing by my lovely friend who shares about her word, resting, please click the links within the words here, or on the picture below.

Update on Saturday, August 18th -

Thank you to everyone who commented

and liked my page on facebook,

to enter this giveaway!

I love all of your words, and appreciate that some of you linked to posts about your word to share the meaning behind your choice.  And thank you for also linking to my page.

I wrote all of your names onto paper, with your word; two entries for those who also liked the facebook page.  I folded and placed them into my special clear bowl filled with shells and other special items that sits atop my writing desk. 

The name I pulled, after closing my eyes and shuffling the bits of pink paper around, was:

Congratulations, Deb!!!  I will be contacting you for your mailing address so I can send your word to you after I sculpt it.

I must say, though, that you all have such wonderful words that I would love to sculpt...  Would you contact me to talk about possibly working something out, offering me a tiny donation to make yours for you, I quietly ask?  All words will be shared on my Wire Words Page, with a link to your blog, specifically your post about why you chose yours, what it means to you, if you have written one.

Thank you all, once again! 

To Kingfisher, for being an inspiration and providing encouragement, all while she is resting.

To Cheryl, who shares how "live" she is, how to "live" through her art journal pages.

To Sue, for connection, which she is embracing; a word which has been speaking to me, too.

To SperlyGirl, for "begin", whose 10 things I love, I love.

To Anna, for "waiting", who shares her insightful art journal pages while she finishes up her PhD, and is full of authenticity.

All my best,

Brianne

What's Inside

I see other people do it -
share their feelings and hurts;
on facebook for example,
just the other day,
I saw someone share her heart,
full of tears,
and receive strengthening feedback -
dozens of comments
to comfort her.

Could I ever do this?

I hide, especially when things aren't okay.
I fear being ignored, overlooked, and talked about.
I imagine posting something so heart wrenching,
laying it all out,
and then having no one respond.

Through the years,
friendships change,
life changes,
and it's okay.
But when there are people
who you would gladly set aside
time for - seconds, minutes, more -
that do not see you,
you wonder
if they choose to ignore,
or if they have better things to do,
and you are overlooked
or deleted,
traded in for something meaningless,
that looks so much more important;
and to protect yourself,
you have to separate yourself from your words,
essentially from your heart
& who you really are,
and you don't know if you can do it.

You don't know if you can pretend that
it's okay
when there isn't time
for what's inside,
and you're not encouraged
to open more.

Thank you dear friend, for reading this,

I'm am afraid to write things like this -

I don't feel bad for me,

I don't want anyone to feel bad for me;

Just want to express my feelings about things

more vulnerably -

and I know I could go deeper and further

and explain more,

but I am afraid;

why am I both afraid of being noticed,

and of no one noticing?

A little more explanation is in a comment.

Taking Myself Seriously

On one of my favorite blogs, Messy Canvas, I read author Mandy's series of three posts about "Taking My Art Seriously." (Here are the links to posts 1, 2, & 3)

These posts, among many other things, have been very instrumental in my realization that I need to take myself seriously.  Taking my art and writing seriously translates into taking myself seriously.  Why has it taken so long to realize this, to live this?  Taking myself seriously means that I am happier.  I take care of myself better, I'm healthier.  I enjoy life more fully.  My relationships with family and friends flourish.  I can be myself more fully.  Everyone benefits.

One substantial step I took as a symbol of taking myself seriously was purchasing a writing desk.  It's glass and it's tall and narrow, and it's on wheels and fits in our room, between the closet and my side of our bed.  It came in a box and I put it together myself.

It's become a special place for me, a sacred space for me.  It means a lot to me, to have this.  Before I had just my little square countertop, which I still use to create in. 

But my desk is different.  It means that I've taken a step in the right direction, that I believe in myself enough to invest in what I need to fuel my growth.  I've given myself a gift, something that I hadn't realized I was worthy of for a long time. 

On this desk, I've placed special blessings, such as a prayer, shells and stones, a bow & arrow sculpted from wire, a plaque I made representing a wood duck, and a painting that says I'm braver, stronger and deeper than I ever thought I was.  And you know what?  You are too.

 

Are you taking steps to ensure that you are taking yourself seriously,

whatever it is that makes this true for you?

Trayvon Martin

Dear Mr. Langerlaan,

I'm the kind of person who has to think about issues fully and take time to look at things from all angles before I have something to say about them.  This process often takes a lot of time, especially when days are busy and there's not much time to think.  Therefore, I'm often able to voice something way after the fact, when others have already moved on to the next thing. 

I realized that's not the case, though, with what happened to Trayvon Martin.  A group in my area is hosting an event this week to discuss Trayvon's death and the issues surrounding it.  I just read about it in this weekend's paper.  I'm glad that this case is still being discussed because there are many implications and elements of change that what happened brings up.

In an article about a mural dedicated to Trayvon Martin that I read earlier this month of April, you, Mr. Langerlaan, called the mayor's office to complain, stating, "That type of art goes with gangs.  It's a hooded character with no face.  How am I supposed to interpret it?"  I wondered if anyone answered your question.  I feel compelled to. 

When I saw the article about this Elmwood Park mural, it caught my eye.  I thought the artwork was a beautiful representation of a message that others understood and supported the issues surrounding Trayvon Martin's case.  I realize the location of this mural might not be ideal.  Perhaps if it had been just over the border in Paterson, there would be no issues.  I know these areas well, and what is occurring here furthers the issue at hand: of racial profiling, racial discrimination, and prejudgments that cause untimely deaths.  It actually reminds me of the story of an elementary school classmate of mine who was shot by the cops as a teenager in Paterson.  His name was Lawrence, too.

There is a problem with not knowing how to interpret art, Mr. Langerlaan. Art is a passion of mine, and when I saw the "hooded character with no face" immediately I realized that this figure represented the meaning behind this case. Perhaps that was how Trayvon Martin was viewed:  "as a hooded character with no face."  Perhaps that was how his shooter viewed all who wore a hooded sweatshirt: as someone with no face. 

This is a problem, because underneath the hood, there is a face.  The face represents a person, an individual, more than a character, more than just a figure wearing a hood. People need to see that. They need to recognize that if they are viewing people as ones with no face, as ones who all look the same, who represent gang culture or whatever the case may be, they are wrong. They are seeing through jaded eyes. They are seeing through prejudices and judgments. They are seeing through the eyes of racism. They are not seeing differences. They are not seeing individuality. They are seeing a person with no face. How shall I interpret that? 

I hope I've helped with my interpretation, sir.  This is an opportunity for a community to band together in the realization that prejudices exist but we strive to overcome them.  It is sad that this wonderful mural has become a threat, when it is obvious that it was only meant to show love.

~Brianne

For videos about this mural click here 
For articles, click here 

What I Need

i need words

like oxygen,

the air i breathe,

to experience

life fully.

to interpret

the experience

of living,

i need to think,

to write,

to figure it all out,

to piece together pieces.

i need art,

music,

the experiences of others

as they use artistry

to help me interpret

life to the fullest -

this human experience.

i need words

to offer

and be offered,

to read

and be read.

i need words

to pour out

all of the emotion

that overflows

in my head.

Wire Sculptures

I just added a new page on my site for the wire soul word sculptures I've been making for friends and family.  It's called "Wire Soul Words," and you can view it by clicking here.

It all began with the urge to sculpt "freedom" out of wire.

I bought steel, copper and brass.  As I sat on my couch at the end of the day just last week, I caught some interesting info shared on the opening of the new show "Touch."  It was about the huge cable wires under the ocean that allow for communication across the seas, which are made of wrapped steel and copper wire.  My ears perked up at this, and as the narration went on about how those cables were able to transmit signals across miles of distance, my eyes widened with interest.  The innate human need for communication was explained, and the use of current technology as a means to send signals and wait for responses was displayed.  I understand this.

After I'd sculpted my "freedom" and wrote about it, sharing pictures on a blog post, my close friend kept thinking of what her soul word would be and about how I'd sculpted mine. She said she'd have to choose "resilience". So I made her word for her and wrote a poem about it.

She shared with me her vision of a collage with photos of wire soul words and the snapshot of where their recipients placed them. I began to make this wonderful vision a reality by asking friends and family to participate by choosing a word, and have shared it here as a page on my blog. It will continue to be added to as I finish the ones I'm working on and their owners snap photos of their placement.

The act of this wire sculpting and wrapping brings peace to me.  It is pure enjoyment to make these creations for loved ones who will find such meaning in the words they've chosen, as they view them and meditate on them in the special place they place them.  Recently I shared this idea for my niece to do with her book club, as her mama (one of my sisters) was seeking a project to go along with the book "The Bronze Bow."  She said the girls loved doing the wire sculpting and took off with it as she gave them the materials to use.

I was inspired to create my own bow and arrow, which you can see below, and will be placed on my writing desk.

If any friends are interested in a wire sculpture of their own, please feel free to contact me.  I'd be more than happy to make something for you, with love.

Linking up, because community is fun:

The Chaff

 

It used to be that I thought I was the chaff...

that maybe because I had no notches on my belt

I would be burned up

when it came down to it.

What could I do to save myself
from this inevitable pending doom?

 I pretty much gave up on ever being able to fit in to the mold presented -

to be one who could preach with words the gospel of salvation to every and any body.

As I was presented with books that

provided patterns of verses

to guide me,

that I could write on paper

and keep in my pocket...

 

the guilt surmounted because of my inability
to follow what felt so fake to me.

I just wanted to be myself,but that did not seem to be enough,
and besides, I was going to be burned up.

I was a hopeless cause;

destined to be

that cursed fig tree.

It was necessary break away

from all of this -

the reinforcement of lies

that I would never be enough

to please the God who loves me.

 I had to hear His voice for myself

and read the message differently.

I read about how I was captivating

and listened over and over to songs

that told me I was loved. 

I had a hard time fully believing.

And I worried, still, that on the threshing floor

where I'd be winnowed,

I would eventually

be the smoke that withered.

But it turned out that,
as I kept reading it differently,

I couldn't get away from the truth.

In my mind,

tree branches are snapping -

dead tree branches

falling to pieces -

the untruths sitting within me.

 

I can see

the new life, green

sprouting up

underneath them,

and I know

the chaff was never me.

 A cursed fig tree, I will never be.

For He restores me, and renews my mind -

He who makes all things new.

The things that are dead

are things within me,

that He wishes to restore,

to transform,

to match with the glory

that is His, and His alone. 

 

He heats up His fire

not to break me,

but to mold me

and shape me,

into the beauty

He wants me to be.