Start From Where You Are For Blogging and Art Journaling

This is not the first time I have titled a blog post with this title. And it won't be the last either. 

Start from where you are.

It's the best advice I can give anyone looking to explore their creativity, find truth, or get started on a project that feels daunting.  For this advice, I am thinking of the bloggers and art journalers who have joined me on this month-long challenge to blog or art journal every day. I am thinking of my commitment to this practice, and the inspiration that I want to offer people.

I love this advice so much that I even teamed up with my friend/collaborator/colleague Holly Mae Haddock, and together, we wrote a song about it when I told her how I was going through a stuck period with songwriting, singing and guitar playing. It's called: Where I Am.

Here is the chorus:

I'm gonna start from where I am.  

With no memory or plan.                                                                                                                

I'm gonna offer who I am.                                                                                                                    

I'll be my own biggest fan.

How do you start from where you are? 

For me, it's always about looking within. Connecting within. It usually means closing the eyes. Slowing down the breath. Opening the imagination. It means turning on our awareness. What do we actually feel? It means noticing what kind of energy do we have right now in this moment, before we change it all with a thought, with a "should" or a "have to"?

And then, once we get a little taste of it, we create from that place. Maybe I notice I am feeling anxious and I focus on that feeling for a moment, and then draw that feeling. Or maybe it means I have an image of a little girl, and I want to create from the space that she occupies inside me, using crayons, or dancing to music she likes. 

For art journaling, it means capturing an essence of our experience, what is up for us, what feels important, juicy, or even scary. If you are art journaling, it is most likely private, and so the space of the journal page is a really safe place to let it all out. There are no limits to what you can create there--sometimes it's nice to start with something really simple. A feeling, an image, something that you are connecting with in this very moment. And then let it flow from that place.

Every blogger is different in terms of your goal, themes, styles, topics. My blogging sweet spot is about communicating something that usually stays inside. Sharing something that I would normally want to hide from people in everyday conversation. I like the feeling of the risk of sharing that kind of material on my blog. The shadow. It's what drives me. My shadow material might not look the same as yours--and it might not seem risky to you. But what's important is how it feels to you, the blogger. 

Morning Pages

One of the best, easiest and most rewarding practices for art journaling or blogging, is morning pages. For those who don't know, morning pages is an exercise that Julia Cameron invented in her book about the spirituality of creativity called The Artist's Way. It's basically the same thing as stream of consciousness writing. Her version is write 3 pages in a notebook with a pen or pencil with out stopping. I have adapted her exercise for my Art Journal Lab class, and set the timer for 15 minutes and do not limit the exercise to the morning (as our class meets in the afternoon.) Also, I am okay with doing the practice on a computer, though Julia insists on doing the morning pages with paper and pen. What matters most, in my opinion, is that you write with out editing, with out stopping, with out letting the critic get in your way. You write out the most mundane stuff in your mind, as well as the deepest stuff. It's a writing meditation, and it works. It allows us to get to know the contents of our mind before we block ourselves. The writing does not have to be good or even interesting. It's a process exercise designed to empty the chatter in our mind, and to let out the thoughts and feelings that are under that white noise. So on days you really don't know what to do with your blogging or your art journaling. Just write for 15 minutes with out stopping. If you are blogging, you might find something useful in there that you can edit or expand afterwards and turn into a blog post.

For the visual component, one thing you can do with your morning pages is scan the words after you are done to look for words that feel important to you. You can circle them with a colored pen (pen of color) and then choose one or a few to illustrate your blog post or your journal. Let yourself play--it's not about perfection but about exploring your visual senses in addition to your verbal expression.

In June 2015, I decided to quit Facebook because I was feeling frustrated by the lack of authentic expression on there--mine and others. I wanted to be real, but I didn't feel safe to be real, so I returned to my blog and committed to blogging daily for the month of June. I gave myself the parameter of writing daily for 15 minutes (morning pages on the computer). Then I gave myself another half hour to edit and expand, and add imagery and turn into a blog post. It was such a wonderful way to make my blog feel more alive, and I developed a more confessional style. I will be sharing some of those blog posts with you soon!

Let me know in the comments below how it goes for you to start from where you are.

Does any resistance come up?

If so, start from there. 

She's a Rock-n-Roll Thing

I have a birthday wish that I’d like to share. I am taking the risk of not keeping it secret, because this is a wish that needs to be voiced in order to come true.

It is vulnerable to promote myself or ask for help. This is because I received the message at an early age that females are not to be proud, show off, or even love ourselves. We are to be humble, and hide our shininess because we our power or vulnerability might offend someone, make them jealous or uncomfortable. I have lived a double life for as long as I remember: walking the thin and anxious line between the silent, good girl who people-pleases and stays safe and the outspoken, spiritually-open, emotional, powerful part that has a LOT to fucking say.

“I want to tell you that that dream is your truth.”

After hearing a little bit of the hateful response to Ms. Hillary, and other women of power, I can see why this message exists. It is indeed a dangerous thing to be a girl or woman of power, a woman in the public, a woman with something to say. It makes sense because women who stand in power are targets. It is scary to be a target, especially in the age of the internet. However, it is even more dangerous to be a woman who keeps silent, and does not speak her truth.

I know so many women who struggle with this daily, as well as men, teens and children too. It is a terrifying thing to not conform, to express the dissenting view, to be original, to stand out, to follow your own path, to embrace the shadow, to feel and express our darker emotions, to embrace all of our selves.

I see a lot of quotes floating around the internet about how important it is to be your self, but with little advice or help in how to actually do this. I see becoming one's true self as the ultimate work of art, and the highest goal of life. Only from becoming whole, can we reach our fullest potential and highest purpose. Only from becoming whole within can we transform our culture and world. This is the work that I am called to do—teaching, supporting and encouraging people to live out all of their selves. And after a life time of studying, teaching and practicing the many art forms I am called to, I have come to believe the arts are the perfect container to speak the shadow of your truth. To express the vulnerability and shame that holds us back, to speak our soul’s longing, to communicate the unique way we don’t fit into the box society conveniently made for us, to own both our power and love, our masculinity and femininity. The arts allow us to express all of our selves because the arts are a container that allow that raw material to be symbolic. This is my professional work as well as my own personal journey of self-actualization, selves actualization. My very vulnerable work lately has been integrating these two sides of me: healer/teacher/coach with artist/performer/writer. In fact, I will be speaking on this topic and singing my songs at the concert following along with a group of other outspoken and heart-centered women, in exactly one month, Dec. 3rd, at the first Women Awakening, an international women’s summit in Todos Santos, the town in Southern Baja where I work.

I want to share with you my shadow side today, the part of me that I have worked hard to hide, especially from myself, for most of my life. This shadow side is powerful, masculine, and fucking loves to curse. This shadow side is critical of culture, has some strong opinions, and is non-conformist. This shadow side is angry, loves to take up space and has a powerful voice. This shadow side is also witchy, emotional and mystical and holds a deep spiritual faith. This part of me is a rock-n-roll thing. 

I have had some bold moments through out my life where I expressed this shadow side, in the safer, smaller contexts of the fancy private schools I was lucky to attend, and with my first all woman rock band, social service, in NYC. But then, eight years ago, after receiving my master's in psychology and expressive arts therapy, I got pregnant, and moved to a piece of land in the desert off the grid with my husband, started a family, let go of all of my previous selves, and completely started over from scratch. I dropped out of the society I had always known, transforming from city girl to pioneer woman. This new way of living put me in everyday contact with culture’s shadow: nature. Bugs, scorpions, snakes, hurricanes, off the grid toilet adventures, camping, even motherhood. All of it has kicked my ass, grew me up and made me deeply grateful for the loads of privilege I was born with and continue to experience. This gratitude has fueled a volunteer community work, and has given me a simple and profound enjoyment of everyday family life. This appreciation for life has also led me to create classes, workshops and relationships that are deeply meaningful and fulfilling, and has kept me writing and reading fervently, looking deep within, and continuing to practice my music in my living room.

But... there is still one thing that nags at my heart.  There is still one part of my self that I continue to hide more than I would like to, because I am afraid. As much as I long to reach a wider audience, I am still deeply afraid to be heard and seen, of what could happen in my life if I truly put myself out there and pursued the huge dreams that I have kept mostly to myself. I am afraid of alienating others, of people’s judgment, criticism, ridicule, jealousy. I am afraid of how raw it feels to share all of my selves, to use my voice. Of the vulnerability of not fitting into a pre-existing category of identity, especially gender identity. But, there is something I am even more afraid of: NOT doing it. Staying silent. I know too well what that feels like. I am afraid of dying with out having lived out all of my selves, with out connecting with the people in the world I would like to reach. With out people hearing my songs, and reading the books I am writing, with out watching the sit com I have been developing for over eight years. As afraid as I am of being seen and heard, I am even more afraid of staying silent. As Anaïs Nin famously said, “and the day came when remaining in the tight bud was more painful than it the risk it took to blossom.” That day has come.

And so here’s the part where you come in--the wish part, the part where I am asking for your help.

I want to share with you my latest song, Rock-n-Roll Thing, which is my first release in 13 years, since my first band, Social Service. I have at least 20 more songs to record and release. I hope this song will inspire others to ignore the voices inside that tell them what they can’t do, what they shouldn’t do, and instead listen to that other voice, that quieter voice, that speaks for your soul, and that dreams big. I want to tell you that that dream is your truth. I know this because as a child I wanted desperately to be a singer, but I was told not to sing, that I was no good. I wanted to be an actress, but I was told my voice was too quiet and I couldn’t get into the school play. I continued to stay silent while I expressed myself in other forms. I continued to pursue these dreams, despite all the rejection and heartbreak. Over the years, as much as I tried, I just couldn't turn away from that shadow self that part that had something to say, the part that dreamed big.

Some of you may know that I am a huge Lena Dunham fan, who is a controversial creative person and an outspoken feminist--a beloved voice in our culture, as well as a target. I have read Ms. Lena's book twice, Not That Kind of Girl, and lend it out to anyone who wants to read it. I have watched every episode of Girls at least 3 times. Even though Ms. Lena is many years younger than I am, we attended the same high school and college, and she has been able to be massively successful in multiple creative careers, the very same careers I pursued at her age. When I was in my twenties, I was only just beginning to learn how to use my voice. I admire Ms. Lena for her commitment to being herself, the quality and honesty of her work, for being willing to be transparent, vulnerable and stand up for and support other women and for what she believes. I admire her for sharing her shadow side, her mistakes and regrets. She is not perfect and neither am I. No one is perfect. It’s time for women and girls, and all humans, to own our imperfections and be willing to be seen and heard. It's time for us to make it safe for ourselves to share our shadow selves, and all of our selves.

I shared this one minute promotional video on instagram a few weeks ago, which I have been using as a microblogging platform, a relatively safe way of practicing being all my selves. Every day for the past few months, since I received my first smarty phone as a very generous gift, I have challenged myself not to hold back from sharing my passions, creativity, life and work online. But I have now decided, on my 43rd birthday, to share my song with a larger group in hopes that it makes its way to Ms. Lena Dunham and that she might consider the song for Girls. She has recently finished shooting the final season, and I imagine the show is still in post-production. There may be time for this song to still be considered. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. I figure with my Saint Ann’s and Oberlin networks, someone knows someone who knows Ms. Lena Dunham.  All I ask for is a listen.

If you have five minutes, please listen to my song, Rock-n-Roll Thing, and if you like it, please share with others who you think will like it. Please show your support by buying it and downloading it, and sharing with your networks. Please share this blog post. Anything you can do to spread this message and this song.

Soon I will be shooting the music video, which will feature four of my selves-the singer, the drummer, the keyboardist and the guitar player. In the video I will be playing with gender roles and instruments and parts of self. In this version of Rock-n-Roll Thing I am playing all the instruments, and did all the recording and producing myself on Garageband. I turned myself into a one woman band just to prove to myself that I could. I have come far from that little girl who got rejected from the school play in 6th grade on account of my voice being too quiet.

Together, we can make this birthday wish come true!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.

Love and creativity,
Zoë

I love it when life is dictated by weather

I love it when life is dictated by weather.

The first time I had that thought I was in Hanoi, Vietnam. I was 19. My brother Alexander and I had been  traveling  in Vietnam for a few weeks. I had just spent 5 months in China. It was my semester abroad. In China, I had felt like a freak. My hair was cropped very short, and was a somewhat natural shade of orange. I was stared out no matter how much I tried to cover myself up. Even when I was eating noodles. But, in Vietnam, I felt anonymous. Hanoi was an exciting & beautiful city. I loved the energy of the bicycles and motor cars of every variety, the wide streets. I loved the coffee and the baguettes. I loved the bright colors of the fans, the plastics and the ao dais. But what I loved most especially was the way people responded to the weather. The mornings were hot and humid. But then, every afternoon, after lunch, a heavy rain would come. At that moment, as if they knew exactly the time it would rain, all the shopkeepers would crank out their awnings and the shops would bring their wares inside. Umbrellas of every pattern imaginably started popping open everywhere. And then, suddenly the streets were empty and all the people were sitting at cafés or standing under awnings.  It was amazing to me how rapidly the people responded to the sudden downpour. And then in less than an hour, everything was back to sunshine as if the rain had never happened.

I have come back to this memory often. And I imagine I might have exaggerated it quite a bit in my mind. I return over and over to the idea of how extreme weather unites us. And when we get used to it even more, we build our lives around it. A change in weather returns us into the present moment—it awakens us to nature, and reminds us how we never apart from it. It’s a little bit of a secret from my husband, but I admit there is a part of me that gets excited by crazy weather.

Tomorrow, we are expecting a hurricane. Her name is Blanca. We’ve been hearing about her for a week now. She is a changeable one. She has threatened to be a category 4, and then back to a 1, then a tropical storm. Our cell and internet service is down right now, so we don’t know the latest. Lucas spent all week preparing for it. We had four of our roofs blow off in Odile last September, and just a few weeks ago, had them all repaired. Our house has always leaked badly, but everything’s been fixed, so let’s see how we fare this time. I wish I could sent this out today, but it probably won’t go out until tomorrow.

Facebook update:

Even though I had a few moments of doubt about my decision, my first day away from Facebook has felt considerably less angsty. I feel more engaged with my present life. That also might be because I spent the entire day preparing for the hurricane. Washing dishes, cleaning out the refrigerator, making sandwiches, making space in our bodega for a place for us to sleep (as our bedroom is still not weather proof at all—there are no doors and windows yet, but they are coming soon.) Another surprise about leaving Facebook is quite a few people have congratulated me. To me that is a sign that other people may have similar feelings about Facebook.

Facebook feels like a popularity contest that I'm losing

The other day, I went on Facebook after writing my blog post about how I am done apologizing for the collective shadow, and the first thing I saw was a link posted by an old friend to an online magazine who had done some sort of exposé on his fancy country house. He had received a ton of comments and likes, everyone complimenting his house. One part of me sees that there is nothing wrong with this. This is normal behavior, acceptable behavior. But another part of me felt envious, and underneath that, angry. Not at any person, just at the way Facebook makes me feel. Then I realized it. Facebook is a place where we re-confirm what The Culture says is acceptable about us, and where we continue to hide our shadow, which grows bigger and bigger, underground. For me, it exacerbates the ego's need to confirm itself over and over, but then I am left feeling empty. I rarely find authenticity in the realm of Facebook, most especially not in myself. And yet,  since I live in the desert, in Mexico, and I am far away from much of my friends and family, Facebook has sadly become the main way of keeping in touch with people in my life. It is a very paltry way of communicating with people you care about. Nearly every time I go on Facebook, I leave feeling wounded, inadequate, ashamed, disconnected & profoundly disappointed. For a long time I have wanted to share more of what I really think and feel on Facebook, but I have been afraid to tell the truth. How could I not be afraid of being myself in front of (what feels like) an unpredictably random assortment of  500 people I know or used to know, including: grade school best friends, people I've never met, dead relatives, clients, bosses, co-workers, ex's, therapists, teachers. On Facebook, in front of almost everyone we've ever known, our social connection is reduced to momentary reactions to fleeting images of people with whom we've had every kind of relationship imaginable. People's behavior has been reduced to the simplest gestures and statements that fall in the category of that which can be commented on in a few words, clicked in less than a second or more often, ignored.  On Facebook I have the feeling that I need to express myself as generically as possible because I have no idea who I am actually communicating with. This feels like the fear of being judged in middle school and high school when we were first developing an identity. I don't want to go back to that trapped-in-silence feeling again.

I say:

FUCK FACEBOOK.

I typed the above statement last night into my computer and it felt just right. I decided I am going to leave Facebook and see how it changes my life. I am moving my comments to Twitter (which is new to me) & Somewhere and maybe I'll discover a new social platform that feels more welcoming of my full self. But of course, most of comments will be here at the zoëlab HQ. I am always available by phone and email. Those older technologies seem so warm now with Facebook out of the way.

I might give myself a little time to adjust to this new idea. I am still contemplating whether or not I want to leave up my Art For Life page or leave Facebook all together. Right now I feel like slipping out the back door. Tomorrow I may feel a need to make a slightly louder exit.

This idea feels a little thrilling, strangely. Writing this post certainly has been thrilling, and I almost didn't post it. Almost.

(I confess this blog post took longer than 15 minutes. But I had a lot of fun, so it's okay.)