Bird by Bird, Breath by Breath

It happens when I am “being a good girl”. 

Let me explain this.

Waking up at 7 am on Saturdays to catch the 8:30 bus.
And remaining focused instead of watching dreamily the colour of my ginger tea in the glass pitcher.

Most of the time, this means focusing on something that needs to be done: washing the dishes, working on a translation, getting ready on time for the bus, brushing my teeth, sweeping the floor, and so on.

All the while, I am only Half Breathing.

Half a breath comes in, half a breath comes out. Half of the required oxygen gets in, half of the toxins get out... Meanwhile, the diaphragm gradually gets tense after all these hours of holding back.

Also, you can't breathe easily with a - 28 C wind chill and a scarf over your face all the time.

This combination is an excellent recipe for getting tired and tense, and for being suddenly overwhelmed by your emotions and feelings when they do manage to come out.

Moreover, I also tend to hold my breath when I am focusing on something that I really enjoy doing, like drawing, painting, taking pictures, or practicing yoga. Isn’t it strange? 

Drawing birds allows me to reconnect with their freedom and grace.

Not really... Because this kind of careful “focus” is the opposite of engaging myself truly, and freely, in these activities: without thinking, without worrying about doing it right. 

Remaining focused in a serious, careful way is the opposite of my true nature: the Wild Child that needs to be completely absorbed in her current environment, activity or feeling – when I can loose my sense of time, when I don't need to achieve anything. 

Then I am fully alive, and fully myself.

American Goldfinch.

Well, I can grow even more tense and tired when I am “being a good girl” (i. e. focused, organized, reliable) for the sake of somebody else.

Because of my personal history, when someone is asking me to support them in some way, it can be very difficult for me to say "no" (I care for this person; their project or need is important for them; I think I can actually help) and yet, for these very reasons, it is equally difficult for me not to divest all of my energies towards this responsibility.

If that responsibility has a limited time frame and scope, and is then removed from my hands, then the story has a happy ending.

But on a few occasions, things went a bit out of control.

If the project/problem is entrusted to my care for a while, or if it has no real ending/solution, the responsibility slowly invades my mind, obliquely. I become less involved in my own life, but also less grounded. 

This is definitely a sign that something is wrong, and it's a slippery slope. Ultimately, if the process goes on, I begin to loose my sense of self...

So you see, in that kind of situation, I am holding my breath both physically and mentally.

The Wild Child in me is no longer able to tug at my sleeve, like she usually does when I am focusing on my own projects in the wrong way. This time, she has to be locked away in a remote room so I can’t hear her voice. She becomes wilder, and more desperate. She cries for light, for air, for freedom. 

(All the while, I am doing my best to remain faithful as well to the person I promised to help, so these conflicting loyalties are bringing me down, fast.)

When I can’t stand it anymore (after several weeks or months, as I am not initially aware of what is going on), I run blindly to her secluded room, where she was first locked up a long time ago*, and I find her shaking with sobs, with exhaustion, with despair at not being seen or heard, again. 

I fiercely promise never to do this anymore, ever. I am, too, shaking with sobs, with exhaustion, with despair at not being seen or heard, again.

I am crying as I write, because a similar story has in fact happened to many children, literally or symbolically. And because I am standing there right now, free at last, but still shaken, exhausted and vulnerable.

I took up this particular responsibility because I thought I might be able to do it all by now (or, to be frank, I thought I should be able to do it): juggling between my (many) own projects and somebody else’s. 

You know, like grown-up people do all the time.

Well, I am still not able to. But I am now quite convinced that I don’t need to. I probably don't need be a Grown-Up, either. Or even a Good Girl. 

Quoting Charlie Brown: What a relief!

I did not arrange this conversation, okay? I was merely there at the right moment.

What I need to do, instead, is to let my Wild Child lead the way.

As in: drawing a Yellow-Rumped Warbler that is multi-coloured and looks like any other young bird.
Except it's my own.

A few weeks ago, I took my healing stones outside in the new, thin crescent of moon that is smiling up there every time, for each one of us, with a promise: everything will be all right.

I let them glow in the sun the following morning, for good measure.
Mingling with tiny ice crystals.

This was a wise move, as the full moon in Virgo on March 5th turned out to be particularly unsettling and distressing, apparently for good reason. Meditating helped, but I kept my stones inside.

(I happen to be a Virgo and a Dog, two signs known for being loyal, reliable, intuitive, helpful, and for doing things right. Quoting Charlie Brown again: Good grief!)

Oh, Bluebird. I miss you, and our long summer afternoons on the hill.

February 2015 has been the coldest in Quebec for the last 140 years, after a long, intense January. But March is here, and a few hours ago North America has switched from Winter time to Summer time.

I am ready to drink up every hour of sunlight, every slender moon, every breath.

Right here, inside each moment.

Fully alive. And free.

Broad-tailed Hummingbird.

Thank you for reading this story with me. I feel better already :o)

xo


(* I started to put away my true self when I was about 10, gradually losing contact with my real personality and with life in general. This is another story, but it has a happy ending :o)


ps - You have probably read Anne Lamott's wonderful book: Bird by Bird, Some Instructions on Writing and Life. It is very uplifting, reassuring, and deep-breathing.

The Beautiful Unknown

A few weeks ago, my friend Tatiana invited me to participate in a Danga (Dance/Yoga) workshop, to which I said "Yes!" of course, feeling both thrilled and a bit nervous at the prospect.

Guess what? It was not only a fantastic experience, but also a turning point in my quest for creative energy. Somehow, my inner resources became accessible to me in a whole new way, inviting into my life the invisible forest of possibilities that I mentioned in my last post.

Which gave me a personalised set of re-solutions for 2015 and beyond :o)

Danga (also called YogaDanga) was created in Montréal by Mylène Roy, from her diverse practice in mime, theatre, contemporary dance and yoga. Her passion for the fertile potential of dichotomies led her to associate the grounded, balanced aspect of yoga with the freedom, sensuality and energy of dancing: it was this very combination that drew me to Danga. 

More interesting still, as I discovered during the workshop, this grounding/liberating alliance of dance and yoga has the ability to bring together seemingly opposite trends, so that they are no more in conflict within yourself – they become empowering duos, dancing together.

I drew these chairs in the Café Cagibi, while listening to Glen Jones.

Good news for all of us extroverted introverts, active dreamers, or dedicated dilettantes, who often dwell between the sensual and the spiritual, the practical and the magical – and who often end up feeling paralyzed. Though not always.

My brother Matthieu: educator, dad, photographer, songwriter, & author not yet published.

At the time, we were Mateo y Manolita.

The workshop I attended was partly guided by three future YogaDanga teachers, including my friend Tatiana – which was another incentive for me, since I find her own energy and vision quite inspiring  :o) In fact, as a theatre director in training, Tatiana also uses Danga’s creative possibilities during the rehearsals, and I can certainly see why!

Here is a short but eloquent video of Tatiana improvising through Danga on “the notion of a ‘hinge’ that was also explored as a junction or a bridge between two places”.

This hinge/bridge notion was also, appropriately, the theme of our workshop :o)

To my surprise and relief, the whole atmosphere made it easy for us to improvise on the music, and to follow our impulses wherever they were taking us. We let our inspiration guide our movements, their rhythm and scope, their direction – without noticing what everybody else was doing, yet supported by the fact that we were doing it together.

“Try and explore moves, postures and muscles that you don’t usually use” was one of the useful suggestions we received.

I applied this throughout the workshop – starting with my arms, as they are my weakest point, particularly in yoga. I leaned on them often, like you would in Downward Dog, Forward Bend or Triangle, except I was dancing, and my arms became a sustaining, living link to the ground.

Eventually, I realized that if I keep my elbows slightly bent, alert and springy, instead of locking them as always, I do have some strength (after all) in my too flexible, narrow-boned arms.

Similarly, we worked on our knee’s “hinge” qualities, which became an instructive exploration on how to engage our leg’s muscles in a more balanced, attentive way.

Throughout the evening, there were empowering lessons to be learned, both immediately and at a deeper, metaphorical level (isn’t our whole body a beautiful metaphor of our soul?) from these explorations between stamina and rest, strength and flexibility, confidence and care.

It was during the final relaxation period that I understood this: I don't really have to choose between the things I love doing, because they sustain each other.

Waiting for the bus + observing nature + taking pictures.

During the following weeks, I applied this understanding to the areas in my life that had been so far in competition: drawing or cooking, dancing or practising yoga, painting or cleaning up, reading or blogging… or walking on the hill.

You see, before going to work I have a three-hour window of free time + creative energy + good light… for all of the above. (Unless there is a translation on my desk, of course.)

So this is where I begin.

1) The morning light in my bedroom/studio is the best one for drawing. How about opening my creative “window” with an hour of drawing?

2) Then: music and Danga for half an hour, to keep my creative energy flowing. Yes!

3) After which, once showered and dressed, I can tackle my current project of the week (portrait, blog post, etc) for another hour… so I am eager to go back to it in the evening, after work.

4) Lastly, around 11 pm, I now turn off the computer for the night and open a good book. It makes a huge difference in my sleep, dreams, inspiration, etc.

But wait… I have to fit all the writing (emails included) in two hours a day: one in the morning, one in the evening (I come back from work after 9 pm, hungry and dizzy). The problem is that I need two solid hours just to get into the text – its voice, meaning, direction – and to have full access to my writing abilities.

One post = days of struggling with words and ideas (+ pictures). And then I translate it all in French…

The problem is not that I am doing a hobby professionally (though I do, because publishing illustrated essays and stories even twice a month for a wide readership is, after all, a dream come true). I simply need that much time to put it all together so you can actually enjoy reading it. Besides, writing these posts helps me understand where I am going, how, and why. It is quite something, and it implies some processing :o)

On Saturdays, I work all day - here I am on my way to the bus stop. Great occasion to get pictures of the lovely 8 am snow.

Is it an angel on my left shoulder? Or maybe a wisp of hair :o)

However, this “writing issue” means that I have to skip drawing and/or Danga most mornings, when I am working on a post.

As a result, drawing projects can take weeks to be completed... Not to mention paintings, or stories, or children’s books. I miss creating new material, playing with my skills, and being bold with them.

But you know what? I have a feeling that the drawing/Danga mornings will help me dive into this Beautiful Unknow, in many ways. I will keep trying. This is just the beginning  :o)

(I am also hoping that Reading Books Every Night – for the first time again since I don’t know when –  will help me in becoming a more efficient writer!)

What do you think?

Fortunately, I’ll have a new opportunity work on my own creative balance this very Saturday evening, as I will be participating in another, unique Danga workshop: Tatiana and seven other future Danga teachers are sharing with us their final project.

The theme is Transitions (Passages): “Intense work – resilience – euphoria”.

Sounds promising, doesn’t it?

:o)