Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1 KJV)

This past Monday, I invited some creative companions to join me on a texture treasure hunt. We met at this really awesome place in our community called Leftovers, Etc, where you can fill an empty bag with found treasures, in order to keep our landfills a little less cluttered.

Just imagine several shelves filled with donated papers, gently used magazines, old calendars, postage stamps, fabric and ribbons, as well as plastic containers of various shapes and sizes and other interesting, discarded items that could become mark makers and texture in a mixed-media collage.

Three of us showed up, and I gave my friends an envelope with the definition of texture and a challenge. We enjoyed pointing out and sharing treasures as we filled our paper grocery bag. One friend gathered an armful of blue, patterned fabrics for a quilt project, costing her a mere $2.50.

The other friend found paper ephemera and other goodies. She shares the following reflection on her experience in her journal:

Imagine filling an empty bag with texture. What would you include?

Here are some photos of my texture hunt. I can’t wait to use and to experiment with the various finds.

Can you believe all that goodness fit into one bag?

Journal prompt: Texture is . . .

Challenge: Find one thing in your stash of art supplies or even something from your junk drawer that could add texture to your art or life.

Ask, and you will receive; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks will receive, and anyone who seeks will find, and the door will be opened to those who knock. (Matthew 7:7-8 GNT)

“Ask for what you want and be prepared to get it.” (Maya Angelou)

As this year unfolds, I’ve been asking questions, seeking answers and knocking on several doors for inspiration.

I often think I have to find new sources, but in these searching days, my meandering also leads me back to familiar wells of satisfaction waiting for me to dip into them for refreshment once again.

Last week I was asking the question: What am I hungry for? And the answer was inspiration. 

Today I am asking: Why is my soul weary and dry? And the answer is thirst. What am I thirsting for? Why am I thirsty? Is there a difference between hunger and thirst?

These questions lead me back to sources that are known to satisfy my soul. The answer for me is found in words and definitions. I go to the Word and the dictionary.

In Scriptures, the apostle John calls Jesus, the Word. (John 1:1,14) And when his disciples are discouraged, they say they can’t leave him because Jesus has the words of life. (John 6:68)

Jesus speaks of hunger and thirst. He offers himself as the bread of life and the wine of redemption. He calls himself the living water. (John 6:35 and John 7:37,38)

Hunger and thirst go together. Both food and drink sustain our bodies, keep our mind alert and our spirits open to inspiration.

According to http://www.m-w.com, hunger and thirst have a common denominator: a strong or ardent desire. The nuance of difference can be discerned through the effects of each state of being. Hunger causes an uneasy sensation and thirst manifests as dryness. 

Spiritual hunger presents as an uneasiness with life. Spiritual thirst manifests as dryness of soul. Both, for me, are indicated when I lack joy and enthusiasm.

Another interesting note is that the common word in both definitions, desire, comes from a Latin root which means “heavenly body.” So using hunger and thirst as spiritual metaphors becomes more meaningful to me because these desires appear to have a divine purpose, as well as, the practical means of staying alive in our physical bodies.

Thirst seems to describe my current spiritual state better than hunger in this moment. Further understanding of thirst comes from an obsolete definition of desire. Desire used to mean “to invite.” What is my thirst inviting me towards? 

An archaic meaning of desire indicates that thirst can be a way of “feeling the loss of” something.  What loss am I feeling? Am I thirsting for something to replace that loss?

All these words and definitions raise more questions. So my mind wanders and searches for more answers. And my mind lands on the practice of listening and doodling with pen in hand, as I listen. Then the doodling draws me to color in the shapes, and highlight words that drew me in. 

And the answer comes from various approaches: reading, listening, writing, doodling, coloring and defining. The answer that surfaced was the phrase “be open.” Be open to the inbetween. Be open to asking questions and seeking answers.

 Be willing to knock on several doors. Be open to intentional time and chaotic moments. Be open and the calmness will return. Be open and your hungers and thirsts will ebb and become urgent again. It’s all part of the rhythm of living.

Asking for what I need and want is essential. Often asking for help is my last resort; I’m a very independent person. But I am learning that asking for what I need and want is a good practice. And hopefully, asking will more and more become my first response.

What do you need or want today?

A devout life does bring wealth, but it’s the rich simplicity of being yourself before God. Since we entered the world penniless and will leave it penniless, if we have bread on the table and shoes on our feet, that’s enough. (1 Timothy 6:6-8)

“When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand. Ideas actually begin to grow within us and come to life.” (Brenda Ueland)

I spent yesterday with my sister and her kids. We watched a video on how to make a God’s eye out of yarn and craft sticks. We all laughed, when at the end of the video, the instructor said, “They’re so useful…and beautiful.” Useful, we snorted. What can they do?

I brought mine home, and hung them on display near our dining room table. And retold my husband the story of how the instructor thought the completed God’s eye was useful. We had a good laugh. But this morning, I felt my attitude was a bit contemptuous.

 

What if, a God’s eye was useful? What if, it’s beauty brought me joy? What if, in the making of it, I felt good. What if, creating something is important, whether it has a use or not? And, if I was going to make fun of this idea, I might need to examine my own love of creativity and art making. Maybe my own pursuit of beauty was useless, if I was going to take such a stance on this project.

 

My bad attitude followed me like a whiny child. I started thinking that if I was such a good critic of what was useful, then why couldn’t I find purpose in my own devotional life. I started a downward spiral. I started searching for that more, that something else that would expand my soul and soothe my inner angst.

But why do I want more? I want something I can’t describe. So, I search my pile of books, my past journals, my creative practice of discovering “messages” in my collage work, and myriads of sources on the internet.

A question posed recently on one of my quests resonated with me. “What are you hungry for?” I didn’t answer it right away. The question nestled down into my contemplating mind.

This morning, I came to my cozy spot a bit restless. Instead of contemplation, I opened my laptop to scour for inspiration. In my email, I noticed a tidbit about a box of artsy goodies from one of the artists I follow online. I clicked all the way to the buy button, then backed out.

What if, I didn’t buy the box, what would happen? I let that question fade. Next I searched, and found a free online class about photography, and watched some of the videos. I got bored, so I stretched my legs, noticing the gray outside brighten. I decided it was an opportune time to go for a walk.

While walking I thought to myself, that this exercise would clear my mind. Then I could return to the cozy spot to be inspired. As I walked various thoughts tumbled through my head. And the question from last week stretched up into my consciousness, “What are you hungry for?” And a litany of answers followed, “Something new, fresh, different, an aha moment.” I continued to walk my usual route, when I remembered that sometimes it’s good for your brain to take a different turn. So, I turned on the street that was ahead of me. As I made the turn, I thought I’m hungry for inspiration, but I don’t know how to get it. Once I let that thought sink in, the phrase “what if” whispered into my mind.

What if, you didn’t buy the box, because you had enough supplies at home. What is it that appeals to you about the box? I answered myself, “Well, receiving the box is fun, and the surprise of the reveal excites me, and using the stuff in the box challenges me, and…and…I might get inspiration!!!

After my walk, I found an empty box.

I went to my studio, and noticed the wealth of supplies.

I chose items to “send” to myself to celebrate the abundance, to create an inviting array of supplies to inspire my created self. I picked random pieces of paper, pages from old books, tubes of paint and unopened supplies that I bought on clearance. I had fun wondering what I would do with these randomly chosen items.  I placed the “found” papers in a recycled paper bag and placed the other items in the box neatly wrapped in tissue paper. I labeled the box with my business logo, and set the box on my table.

And the exciting thing about choosing this “what if” path . . . not only did I not have to spend more money, I did not have to wait for it to come in the mail. I could open it today!

What if, can lead to creative solutions, as well as bring joy.

In another serendipitous turn, while I checked my email later in the day, I came upon two others who were contemplating the phrase “what if” today.

My friend and favorite planner girl, journal keeper and collage lover Dawn Paoletta, posted a photo on Instagram.  And my newfound, writer and artist friend, Laurie Klein, discovered how to convert “if onlys” into “what ifs.”

How could “what if” bring you joy and clarity today?

P.S. Just for fun, here’s a video unveiling the contents of my inspiration box.

 

 

 

 

 Ask questions. Find out what has been going on all these years before you were born. From the day God created man and woman on this Earth, and from the horizon in the east to the horizon in the west—as far back as you can imagine and as far away as you can imagine—has as great a thing as this ever happened? Has anyone ever heard of such a thing? Has a people ever heard, as you did, a god speaking out of the middle of the fire and lived to tell the story? (Deuteronomy 4:32,33 The Message, Moses speaking)

“There are years that ask questions, and years that answer.” (Zora Neale Hurston)

What to blog about? Why the silence in this place created to feed on words, ideas and prompts? Because I don’t know what to write? Because I am not sure what my audience wants anymore? Not really, I just haven’t known what to blog about. So today, I just blog. I don’t need a catchy title. I can’t settle on a crisp theme. I just want to blog. So I start.

For Christmas, my sister decorated my porch with a glass jar filled with sparkly lights. I tried to switch them on today, and no light suffused the glass with reds, yellows, blues, and greens. I changed the batteries, nothing changed. I kept pushing the switch and the lights remained dark. I placed the dead lights in the trash, wiped the winter dust from the inside of the jar. I set the empty container on the recently cleared table, where the nativities once rested.

I feel empty, too. But ready to be filled with something.

I wander through January feeling cold, having a cold, dreading the cold. An ice storm the named Jupiter, looms as large as that planet in my imagination. The roads will be impassable, surely electricity will be scarce and I might be even colder soon. The radio reports have me huddling in fear under my blanket, while every electronic device I own charges in case of the worst case scenario. No heat, no light, no internet, oh my!

As I savor and hoard the miracle of electricity, I settle into my comfy chair and write in my journal for a while. I wrestle with January with words. And I want to blog again. I want to ask questions together, and wonder if this year is more likely to be filled with questions or to be the one that answers.

I took a picture of last year’s journals to show you. And a picture of my completed canvas, that daily practice that I miss. My daily practice this year has been to bemoan winter. My intention is to write daily. Write that novel that eludes me. I have an idea, a pretty good one, but ideas take time to develop, and I’m in whiny winter mode, so nothing really works for me, right now.

I wish I could tell you that I’m going to embrace winter by the end of this post. I’ve heard about other people who enjoy winter, and I truly admire them. And I will take to heart their practices of cozy blankets and warm coffee mugs, but I am using my blog for a rant, so bear with me. Bears get winter. I’ve often asked, “Why can’t I hibernate like a bear?”

So what else to blog about? I miss Florida and adventures and summer. So, I plan creative journeys with soulful women on this road we travel together, except the common cold and this ice storm has delayed our beginning. I still want to share words, ideas and prompts. I still enjoy posting photographs and artwork. So here you are my readers, this my offering on this thirteenth day of January, where blogging connects me to several things I love.

I leave you with photos and some inspiration from those who have inspired me this week to keep blogging, and not give up hope this winter.

A January Affair by Elizabeth Anne

Now by the Sylvr Pen

Journals (circa 2016)

Journals (side view)

Canvas (completed in 2016)

What questions are you asking? What answers are you hoping to discover?

 

Love never ends. (1 Corinthians 13:8a ESV)

“Love prays.” (Emerson)

I welcome a fresh start. It doesn’t matter if it’s a new day, a new month or a new year, the beginning of something intrigues me. Choosing a path, deciding what to bring along and what to leave behind can be momentous. But today, one day gives way to another. I will have choices, some old and some new. But each choice draws me into this thing called love.

Love never ends. A comforting thought for one who resists endings. For one who dreads death and good-byes. For one who craves hope and joy and peace.

I surround myself with companions to ease the weight of this journey. Companions with flesh and bones, and ones who engage imagination and intellect. A friend and I challenge each other to read more; another joins me, as we look for meaningful ways to care for our bodies with food and movement.

I choose a pile of books. Potentials. Possibilities. Places to rest my eyes on the written word, which increases my appetite for writing and thinking and believing and creating and making choices and moving towards all that love encompasses. In one of the books in my stack, the author quotes a poet. And a new thought embeds itself in my mind burrowing down into my soul, and even dwelling in my body: Love prays.

Love prays.

For some reason, I never connected the two before. This simple sentence settles into my brain, soothes my soul and surges through my body, raising my hopes. Gaining new insight forms into an intention to pay attention. To see and to notice and to observe, how this sentence might germinate into a practice, as a new year stretches itself out before me, as an invitation to begin again.

Love prays.

Resonance or resistance, which path will I follow this year?

And you?