queen of all i see

celtic queen
to mongol lord
to russian
revolutionary
to vietnamese
rebel
&
finally landing
on
mother….
is it a fall from grace
though?
as a mere
mother
i still
rebel
i still
fight in the revolution
i still am a lord
& queen
so not a fall
but
an accumulation?

an art journal exploration of what i feel to be past lives leading up to this one….
clearly this was written when my kids were away with their dad & i didn’t feel like a complete fucking mess of a mother.
clearly i did some heinous crime in a previous life to land as a mother in this one.
crap.

falling to earth

i’m quite a way
away
from my comfort zone
(i cannot
see
my house from here)
major tom to ground control
who
do i think
i am?
my demons have launched
a counter
attack
(they are calling it
a rescue
mission)
to tow me back
to my comfortable
confined
cubby
where nothing happens
so i have nothing
to worry
about.

more anxiety art journaling due to venturing out of my comfort zone. i think these demons might live in many households, whispering, keeping people from doing things they want to do….
i think of that scene from labyrinth where sarah is manipulated by goblins into thinking she is safely back in her room with all her favorite things instead of rescuing her baby brother.
that’s totally what it feels like.

isn’t this cozy

my demons whisper
“what if you never
left
the comfort of yourself
ever
again?
wouldn’t that be cozy
not one bit
scary
just build a fort
out of your
journals & art
your books
& stories
rather than letting
the world
see your soft
& vulnerable
underbelly…
trust me
we are the only ones
who really
truly
care
now put down your pen
& come back
to bed.”

my demons are having a heyday. my art show being hung. a book being released. & last night i met with people interested in creating some magic here in the driftless. i left my house & risked my safety to interact with who knows who…but it was cool. i met an authentic person wanting to move forward with this vision. someone who shared a similar worldview…& who also had to wrestle a few demons to leave the house.

every day is inktober

writing
led me to
art
which brought me back
to my
writing
…it’s the story
you see
no matter how
you tell it
it must
be told.

dude. i totally spaced on inktober…again…but, as it turns out, i have posted an inking every day of october so far. because, well, ever since 2016, almost every day has been inktober for me.
inktober 2016 is when it all began, my full-fledged & messy love affair with my ink (there’s an interesting mental picture…but it looks a lot like a room full of inkings of myself–see yesterday’s post.)
yes! in honor of inktober (which i. had spaced, but the universe kindly remembered for me) i have an exhibit of the ink adventure that reflects work that began inktober 2017! my self-portrait series “the invisible exhibitionist,” hangs at the commons in viroqua & will at some point soon be available for viewing on their website (though i still urge y’all to come visit the real thing.)
also!
in subconscious honor of inktober, i released my first book of comics on october 1st. confusion perfume was when i began to seriously start using ink rather than my previous flirtation with watercolors.
so much like the ink running through my veins, inktober is never far from my heart.

the tapestry of me

agony
is woven into my
soul
one part
of the whole
one color
in the tapestry
of me
there is much more
to me
than my
agony
but
i wouldn’t be the same
without it.

i am thinking a lot about balance lately. and realizing that even when i am not thinking about it, it is still present.
recognizing how i need my darkness. what would i be without my darkness?
probably bored.
& unappreciative of the magic times.
like right now.

reset

to defeat my imposter’s syndrome
i have to
become
what i fear
they think
i think
i am….
if they think i think
i am
an awesome writer
i have to believe
i am an awesome
writer
if they think i think
i am
an unstoppable artist
i have to believe
i am an unstoppable
artist
if they think i think
i am a good
& valuable
person
i have to believe
i am
it is the only way
to stop
feeling like
an imposter.

so i was at a dance party in viroqua. yes, i was. and i was half-assedly dancing…then i remembered i don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of my questionable dancing skills.
so then, as i was reeling from imposter’s syndrome due to my book, my show, my writer’s group, & my freestore…i began questioning whether or not i gave a fuck…& this is what i figured out.

(i was a little disturbed by the size of the head in my inking, but based on the words, maybe it is important to let her have a big head)

untangled

my body
after being my ride
for fifty years now
is
finally
learning to relax
muscles & nerves
unwinding
after
a lifetime
of knot
a childhood
spent
on high alert
tangled
became
my baseline
as i waited
for my worst case scenario
to come true
now…
with yoga
body work
art journals
& the odd meditations
now
i am unwinding
softening
opening
&
maybe?
am ready
for a best case scenario.

so my book confusion perfume & other neurotic comics is officially available from amazon.
sunday, i will be hanging my self-portrait series in the community center of this small wisconsin town.
so little…but so fucking much.
if i don’t relax, i might shatter into a million pieces…so, yeah, good thing i’ve finally figured that out.

cool blue

i am
a deep
deep deep
clear
cool
spring-fed
pool
of water
with my sun sign
in cancer
i am a place
to relax
& replentish
i am calm
until
i am
a tidal wave
a hurricane
a tsunami
with a moon sign
& rising sign
in scorpio
i can become
a storm
like you have never seen
until
i am
again
a calm
clear
cool pool.

this is a visualization that came to me while getting body work done. i guess more on my current state of celebrating the balance in my life.

corrupt

i would like
to stop
feeling despair
when you
leave me
in my dreams
i would like
to stop
feeling despair
when i wake up
& stare
into the abyss of
single motherhood
& the severe lack of options
for said
single mom…
as children scream
& i slowly lose my mind
i think
“surely i am from
corrupt stock….
damaged dna
&
surely
your genes
are just as deeply
flawed
resulting in said
screaming
mind-blowing
children….
if only
this person of despair
could go back
in time
& counsel the me
before you….”

bad bit of mothering these past days…. but, before you judge me, come live in my house for a week.
my minions are off with dusty for the week, & i slowly recover my lost mind.
hopefully enough to do more sound mothering in future days.

nightmares

even in my nightmares
i wonder
at the pain
i feel
of losing someone
i have
already
let go of….
i said goodbye
to him
but in my dreams
when he says
goodbye
it hurts
like a thousand
knives
a dream i have
too often
his cold eyes
looking away
his ears
deaf to my pleas
his touch
a forbidden
never again
& i feel
such
profound
dispair
even though
when awake
i do just fine
without him….

i’m trying to figure out why i keep having this dream. in my experience, when i have the same dream over & over, my subconscious is dead set on letting me know something.
so why do i have dreams of dusty leaving me even though i have buried him a thousand times now?

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