The Pilgrimage Within

Tear off the mask; Your face is glorious-Rumi

We were a cozy group of eight. We were a diverse group: different backgrounds and experiences. We were men, women, dark skinned and light skinned, from various races, religions, professions, and regions of the world; each traveling a different personal journey. The Pilgrimage Within. I could feel the energy in the room from the moment I walked in. I joined the others seated in a circle on the floor. I felt emotional. I had goose bumps. I knew right away that I was meant to be there and that this was going to be an experience to be remembered.

Recently I participated in a local poetry writing and healing workshop led by Bahareh Amidi, PhD., an Iranian American. I’d seen the flyer circulating around the yoga studio offering “The Pilgrimage Within.” I don’t write poetry and I didn’t particularly think that I needed any healing, but still I felt an undeniable urge to give it a try. I was curious and I am, in fact, on a journey. Remembering my New Year’s intention of living wholeheartedly, I listened to that small intuitive whisper and I signed up.

As we introduced ourselves, some revealed that they were there to heal personal inner wounds; some were there as professional practitioners to learn how to help their patients heal through poetry. Some came out of a love of reading and writing poems. I didn’t really have an agenda per-se. I signed up because it spoke to me. I felt open to whatever lessons might come from participating. I hoped to explore writing and poetry and somehow incorporate it into my art and vision for living my life with courage, compassion, and connection.

Bahareh opened the workshop by giving us each a beautiful handmade journal from Nepal. She told her story and spoke of being a child of The Universe. We read and discussed beautiful poetry and prose from Rumi, Herman Hessse, and Mary Oliver. Bahareh graciously shared a few of her own original poems as well. 

Handmade journal from Nepal

The real magic happened when it came time for us to let our own words spill out onto the paper. And that’s exactly how Bahareh explained it. She gave us the first sentence of our poem as a prompt and for the next five minutes we visualized leaning over the paper with our heart open, tenderly letting the words spill out on to the pages of our journal.

"Knowing"

Bahareh gently encouraged us to put our voices in to the circle; to read our poems aloud and to share with the group. It was powerful. Feelings and emotions bubbled up as I read my own words out loud. It was even more powerful to hear my words read to me by someone else.

Out of respect for her privacy, I’ll call her, Atiyaha, which means gift. Her voice was soft, yet reassuring and strong. As she spoke my poem to me, I felt my words take on new life and meaning. She was reading it from a place that emanated from her heart. As we stood there face to face, I could feel my words as she read them out loud. Her eyes rarely left my eyes as she read and I felt as if I was looking in the mirror, staring at my own reflection. 

Next, Atiyaha read the poem she had written in her journal. She was tearful as she read her words, raw and unfiltered. She spoke of writing with a trembling hand as her pen met the paper. She spoke about the pen being mightier than the sword. She also wrote of removing “the mask.” When asked what “the mask” represented in her poem, she simply said, “I am from Saudi Arabia.” In that country, Muslim women are required to wear a veil to cover their hair and sometimes cover their face as well. In the simplest terms, "the mask" could be interpreted as her veil. On the other hand, there might possibly have been a more complex meaning tied to religious and cultural wounds. I wondered how many other masks she was courageously taking off on her pilgrimage within.

Her words resonated with me. Saudi Arabia was home for my family and me for ten years and I understood the literal mask of which she spoke. I could also relate to the religious and cultural wounds that we impose on each other, even in America. The removing of the mask spoke to me about the authenticity of being brave enough to be who you really are. It does not come without risk. We spend a lifetime trying on masks. Sometimes we hide behind them; sometimes we wear them like a “mask-of-the-day,” trading one for another at our convenience. Sometimes it takes years to realize we’ve been wearing one at all. The quote by Walt Whitman came to my mind: “Re-examine all that you have been told... dismiss that which insults your soul.”

I admired Atiyaha for taking off her mask, for dismissing what insulted her soul. We should all dare to have such great courage.

For those two hours, sitting on blankets in a circle on the floor, there were no differences. We were from the same family. We were brothers and sisters. We were exchanging pieces of ourselves, gifts if you will, with written words from our hearts. As I sat there, soaking up the moment, the circle shape became significant to me. Round, flowing, continuing. There were no corners, no sharp edges, no points. Our thoughts and words were reaching across the circle, touching each other.  Yes, Atiyaha was right, the pen was mightier than the sword.

I thought about the billions of people living on this big round planet we call Earth. Here we were, eight random people, sitting in a small circle sharing our smaller personal worlds. For me, it was representative of how small the world really is and at the same time how big that small group really was. That day, the eight of us became forever connected even if we never see each other again. As we opened our hearts to spill our words, more importantly we were spilling drops of ourselves.

My hope is that the kindness, the empathy, the heart, and the learning we shared with one another across our small circle will, if nothing else, be a ray of light and understanding that continues to shine across the world. I also like to think that the healing that took place was bigger than just on a personal level. At that moment, it all seemed so simple. Humanity. We were opening up, connecting to each other, trusting, offering a safe place for our voices to be heard and listening with eagerness and hearts open to the messages someone else’s words might offer to our own lives.

I walked into the workshop open to the lessons that might come to me. As I walked out, I was even more aware of what I already knew to be true. By nurturing our creative souls, we expand our minds, and evolve our perceptions. By sharing our stories through creativity, whether through art, music, or in this case, writing poetry, we learn about ourselves and solve problems. Without a doubt, I understood that we were teachers and students of one another and that we were, as Bahareh said  quite simply, children of The Universe.

The Night I Painted the Town

Her ad said: “No experience necessary. Anyone can do it! It’s fun art, not fine art!”

I passed up several opportunities to go to an open paint night during that year, because I was in the middle of my too-busy life to be bothered. Besides that, I never considered myself a painter, much less a “real” artist. I thought of myself as more the crafty, hot glue gun queen, paint a wall, re-arrange the furniture, decorator type. Even so, the opportunity for me to go kept coming back around like a revolving door. I clearly remember the night when I finally decided to just give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen? I remember thinking. And so, I headed out to “Paint The Town.”

As I pulled into the parking lot, I could see through the big plate-glass storefront. There were brightly painted walls and paintings everywhere. It looked happy. It looked fun, but I still wasn’t convinced that this was for me. If I hadn’t been meeting another friend there, honestly, I might have just turned around and left. I took a deep breath, put my hand on the door, and pushed it open. I stepped inside, not really expecting much out of the experience. I walked in to “Paint The Town” expecting a painting lesson. What I walked away with was so much more.

“Hi, I’m Bev,” she said with a big smile and a bubbly, southern accent. I had never met her before that night, but I knew within minutes, maybe even seconds, that we had a special connection. We were kindred spirits. We were soul mates. Nooo, not soul mates of the marrying kind, but of the soul sister kind. I have many friends, but very few people in my life that I consider my true soul mates.

I had a stroke of serendipity that evening. I fell in love. I fell in love with my paintbrush and canvas and I fell in love with the feeling I had while painting. For the next 4 hours, time stood still and I drifted off to a happy place that I didn’t know existed. I am by nature a happy person, but this was a different kind of happy. It came from a deeper place. It was a peace and a stirring all at the same time. It was freedom. That night there was a shift and a door opened up in more ways than one. I could feel it. That night I was actually introduced to two people. One was Bev Selby and the other one was . . . me.

I went back almost every night. Over the next couple of months, Bev and I talked for hours, and painted our hearts out. We had lifetimes to catch up on and not much time to do it. I was moving overseas very soon. Our friendship developed over a few weeks instead of many years, even though it felt like I had known her forever. We shared ideas, experiences, stories, beliefs and differences. She encouraged me to follow my dreams and to be brave. We shared many good times and a few bad times. Sometimes we shared wine out of a box, Chipotle burrito bowls, and Chick-Fil-A fries.

Ironically enough, we both had kids the same age that graduated from the same high school, similar values and vision for connecting with people, and love for adventure and living life. Our prior professional backgrounds were similar and even our wedding anniversary fell on the same date, month, and year! We were 40-something-year-old women, soon to be empty nesters, trying to help our college age kids figure out life and at the same time trying to figure out our own. We were moms. We were wives. We were creative. We were brave. We were determined.

Our friendship has grown over the last 2 years. By now we’ve shared our homes, survived fires, and patched up broken hearts. We’ve grieved deaths, celebrated marriages, welcomed new puppies and well… the list goes on. Our kids have become friends and it gives me comfort to know she is there for my own children when I'm so far away. We live on opposite sides of the world for the time being, but I know some day our paths will cross again in some adventurous way.

When I think back to that night and how it is connected to where I am now on my creative journey, I keep coming back to the opening of the door. I love doors. I have a thing for doors. I’ve collected doors throughout my travels and even have them hanging on the walls in my home. I’m reminded of my collection of doors today, but in a different way. I reflect on how many doors have opened up to me in my lifetime. How many of those open doors did I have the courage to step inside of and commit to walking through, and where have they taken me? I wonder how many I’ve simply walked past without giving notice. How many did I bravely push wide open and how many have slammed shut for one reason or another?

I’m so grateful I opened “Paint The Town’s” door and stepped inside. I walked in and found a happy place. I discovered a whole new world of freedom, playing in paint, expressing my thoughts and emotions through art and connection. A place where I realized that I am an artist and that art is a metaphor for life. It’s also where I found a beautiful friend.

I will always remember walking through that door as a life changing beginning for me. Since that day, I’ve continued to encounter doors while walking my path, one leading to another. I am reminded not to just collect doors but to actively open doors in life and take a peek inside. Maybe even take a step inside. You just never know what surprises you might find waiting.

Perfectly Imperfect

Since publishing my first blog post a few days ago, I’ve felt anxious and somewhat overwhelmed about my next-to-be post. No, let’s be honest. Not only my next post, but my whole blog site. In a span of 24 hours, I went from announcing to the world, quite boldly I might add, that I intended to live wholehearted and brave, to feeling stressed and not so brave about any of it.

As I maneuvered around what was supposed to be an “easy” set up, the more I realized that I don’t know much at all about the technical language of the internet and the blogging world. Frustration took over. The more I thought about my limitations and inadequacies about creating my blog, my art and my life, the bigger they became in my mind. Not only that, those thoughts spilled over and flooded every other area of my day. My day became full of sighs, moans and groans and thoughts of “look what I have to do that I don’t know how to do,” instead of embracing those moments with wholeheartedness and courage.

I became anxious; my vision for my dreams blurred and I temporarily lost my enthusiasm and curiosity for the process of creating something new and unknown. I procrastinated on every level and made myself busy with excuses and random tasks rather than face the hard work of living and creating my so-called dreams. I became completely frozen and started to rationalize the idea that these challenges suggested that my work and ideas were not good enough to share with the world. In reality, it came down to me not having it all wrapped up in a pretty little package. It sounds pretty petty, huh? I wanted it perfect and I wanted it perfect now.

If I had only taken a moment to stop and look me in the face, I would have clearly seen that for the most part, I was my biggest limitation. It shouldn’t have been about being good enough or not good enough. It should have been about my intention of living wholeheartedly, opening up and leaning in to the experience and challenges at hand and having the courage to walk through them in spite of myself. I am reminded of a phrase that a former boss of mine used quite frequently when discussing challenges. He replaced the word challenge with the phrase opportunity for growth. I really like that phrase and mindset, and have made it a practice in my personal life….except for this week.

I forgot to have compassion for myself. I forgot to let go of who I think I’m “supposed” to be and just be perfectly imperfect me! I forgot to live in the moment, to breathe deep, and to love the necessary work. Ahhh, yes, LOVE the necessary work. In a world where we are wired for instant gratification, sometimes that one is tough. I forgot that it’s ok to not know everything in one day or, for that matter, ever. I forgot the beauty of now. I forgot baby steps. I forgot that imperfection also comes with many gifts.

Yes, I do want a pretty blog/website with buttons, whistles, and bells that I can manage and create without endless hours of reading and watching tutorials. And yes, I want to crank out great, meaningful pieces of art with skill and mastery. And yes, I want my writing to convey my thoughts eloquently and I want to be, you know, “there” now. I want to be in that happy place where I have it all figured out and it’s second nature instead of feeling like I’m swimming in circles.

Fortunately for me, I’ve never been much of a party girl. I can’t even hold out when it comes to my own pity party.  So I’m back on track, experiencing the good days and the opportunities-for-growth days and celebrating both. I’m choosing to live the ordinary moments with enthusiasm.

When I slow down and reflect on what my bigger vision really is, it has little to do with painting pretty pictures or creating a pretty blog. It has to do with my deeper desire to live with courage, compassion, and connection with myself and with the people of the world. It’s about finding inspiration and learning from each person I meet. It’s about expanding beyond my own fears and preconceived perceptions. It’s about inspiring others to explore their brave and creative dreams. It’s about being perfectly imperfect.

Hello, World!

Welcome friends and kindred spirits! This is my first post! Yaaaaay! I'm excited and happy to be sharing my journey and creative adventures with you. It's me. Lorelei. I am an artful and creative soul, blooming, unfolding and pushing to my personal and creative edges. And as of today, I'm also a blogger.

I set my intention for 2013 and committed to live "wholeheartedly."  So here I am with my whole heart, feeling somewhat vulnerable and uncertain about blogging and about where my creative endeavors will lead me. No regrets, no turning back, just taking one step after another,  moving forward and trusting the journey. 

Once I'm a little more comfortable about the "how tos" of posting, I'll share more of myself, my dreams, my inspirations and my story with you. I hope you'll come along and be part of my journey and share your stories as well. I have a vision for my life and my art. I don't have all the details worked out yet, but that's the beauty of  it. The possibilities are waiting to be discovered and I'm an explorer. What a perfect combination! 

For today, I want to say a big thank you to kelly rae roberts .  She is an author, artist and a possibilitarian! I just LOVE that word, POSSIBILITARIAN! Kelly has generously shared her knowledge, business tips and tricks in her e-book, Flying Lessons! Without her book, encouragement and wisdom, I'm not sure I would have spread my brave little wings and taken flight today. Her book gave me the courage I needed and pushed me out of my nest!

 I've spent most of my years stepping in and out of my (comfort zone) nest, growing my wings in different ways. The last couple of years have been filled with many adventures; some great, and some not so great, but all part of an incredible journey that I'm still traveling. It was on this journey that I serendipitously stumbled upon me, art, living authentically and being free. I will share some of those adventures later, but for today I'm enjoying my first BIG flight of the year; setting up and posting on MY BLOG! Ready? Set! Go! I feel like I should insert a "eeeeeeeek" here. :-)

I'll end here for now, with a big exhale of happy thoughts and a smile. There's more to come, so stay tuned! I hope you'll come back visit and share yourself with me.

Love and light,
Lorelei