you know who you are

You remember the story of the swan? 

Or the fowl who everyone thought was the ugliest duck ever? 

Here’s the thing: He wasn’t a duck.

All those times he was being teased and when he thought he didn’t measure up, how much would it have helped him to know who he really was?  When he felt so bad about himself that he was ready to give it all up? He saw those beautiful swans in the lake and came out from his hiding place thinking that they would peck at him, putting an end to his sad life.  But they recognized him for what he really was: a swan.  Something he didn’t even believe himself to be.  They accepted him instead of pecking him.
 

All along, he was a thing of beauty.  All along, he had a place he belonged.  All along, there was a time, when in maturity, he would be able to take to the sky.

The thing about it is that we can relate to the story.  We feel for the swan.  We want him to recognize the beauty he possesses.  “Look,” we want to say to him! “Look at your reflection in the lake! You are a swan!  You are beautiful!”

There are moments when I have felt trample and belittled.  I have done it to my own beautiful self at times with my negative self-talk and focusing on my failures. 

But I know who I am.

I am sacred.

I am divine.

Sometimes when you know who you are it helps you get through those hard times.  It helps you to recognize that when you are divine, you CAN.  You can dream and hope.  You can build.  You can create.  You can learn and grow and change.  You can be a beacon.  You can recognize the divinity in others and treat them appropriately. 

I made this painting as a little reminder.  Like looking at a reflection in the glassy lake

 

You know who you are, Sacred One. 

I am...

I am not what surrounds me. I am not happy because of you. I am not happy because of things. I am not my temper or my temperance. I am not the maker of a clean house or a messy room. I am not defined by the worst year of my life. I am not a failure. As long as I have another day, another hour, I can begin again.

I don’t have to be ashamed of my waffling back and forth; it is a human thing. We all get tired. We all get worn out. So instead of feeling apologetic for being tired, I will just lay down my weary self until I can stand tall again. Until I can take a breath and feel its renewing power inject heaven into every cell of my human form. Until I can open my eyes and see beauty again.

Because when I think about it, beauty is still surrounding me every day. It’s just harder to recognize when I am burdened.

The other day I felt like myself for the first time in months. It was like a veil had been lifted from my face and I could see myself clearly again. I remembered that I am whole. I am divine. I am a goddess in the making. I am beautiful. I am loved. I am important.

It made me cry.

Who have I been?

Where have I been?

I’m not even sure, but all I know is that I’ve been sick. And it gets really old. And I hate hearing about how old it’s getting from people who I love and depend on. And I have to stumble my way through life, feeling contrite at my shortcomings, feeling crestfallen that I am not doing, volunteering, raising my hand, standing on a soapbox, shouting to the world about love and beauty.

Well, now I remember what it feels like to be me. I’m not very far buried any more. I see that none of it is my fault. None of this characterizes me; I won’t let it define me. I will use it as an education.

I may have rested enough that I can stand up, take a breath and shake the devil off my back!

And now I wonder how many of you are like me? How many souls are out there wandering around with veiled faces, feeling regretful and disconcerted? Feeling hopeless and helpless?

There are answers hidden all around us.


Here is my anthem of the day:

Shake It Out by Florence + the Machine


Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues strong
It's always darkest before the dawn

And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that horse around

And our love is pastured such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
I like to keep my issues strong
But it's always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah
I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues strong
It's always darkest before the dawn

sight

sight. original mixed media on wooden panel, 12x12. sold.

I was driving early one morning and the sun hadn’t quite reached me yet. Everything was monochromatic and still. As I passed a huge field, several beams of sunlight reached it and startling color jumped out from the grass and the trees that lined the edge.

It made me think about light and how it changes things. Light can be physical and give us warmth and brightness and color. It can be spiritual and we gain truth and wisdom from its divine touch. It can be emotional and we are filled with joy as we let go of our heavy hearts. No matter how it manifests, light is powerful and comforting.

The past couple years have run me ragged. Although I wouldn't change my circumstances - I really love being a mom and find joy in my five incredible children - I have had a really hard time figuring out how to slow down enough to let any beauty and light penetrate.

(If something lovely happens to you and you don’t record it with paper or words or stitches in fabric or ink or paint or pixels, did it really happen?) (you know, like when a tree falls in a forest...) (get it?)

I almost didn’t go to Squam Art Workshops this year. At the last moment my mom and Jake talked me into it: Why wouldn’t you go? It’s your thing. Take care of yourself. You need this.

(They must really love me.)

So I emailed Elizabeth and told her I trusted her (because I’ve seen her gut telling her what to do and I’ve watched how she always listens and wondered at the incredible gift she has!). She emailed me back with which classes her gut told her I would love and then put me in a cabin she knew I would enjoy. I didn’t question it; I accepted it whole heartedly and kept running.

When I walked the familiar path through the woods, my body loosened. My mind widened. My eyes noticed.

The last day I was there, I took Alena Hennessy’s class, the joy of intention. I had spent the past days being filled up and refreshed. I was being fed. And Alena took us out and stood us in a circle and asked what our intentions were.

What?

How had I not asked this of myself? What did I want from this experience? How have I been touched and changed? How did I want it to manifest when I return home? What were my intentions with this squammie experience?

I thought about how the light had touched me while I was there. Not only did it warm me and dance on my skin, it had engulfed my overburdened mind and body and healed it with laughter and friendship and truth. I had sat on the dock and watched the sun rise and seen how the light has a separate beauty from the darkness yet it’s hard to tell when one ends and one begins. I had sat quietly and listened as the light of the Spirit whispered and confirmed and denied, and I could see my life and my potential for what it is: beautiful and imperfect.


(photo taken by the beautiful Elke May right after class.  Thanks, Elke;)

My intentions are to keep living through this season of motherhood that is filled with joy and pain, beauty and hardships, and when things are feeling monochromatic, find a way to slow down enough that I can look up and see where the light is shining to catch sight of what I am missing in my haste. Because there is always light and it is always offering beauty and comfort; truth and warmth; color and energy.



Here is what I wrote in class right before I started painting:

The light

comes in bursts

of hope and peace and

shines

upon parts of life that are hard

and suddenly I can see

the beauty

that was hidden from my

sight.

The color

reflects and shines

bringing joy and peace and awe.

The clouds part

and I know the way.

I am at peace.

Here is the piece that I painted in the inspiring Misty Mawn's wonderful class, Painted Icon:

seeker.  original acrylic on panel, 8.5x11.

(Cabin-mates: I can't help but laugh right now because of our experience with this painting.  Elizabeth was so right to put me with you guys.  You are dear to my heart.)

XO,

Britt

the light ahead

the light ahead: original painting, acryilic on stretched canvas, 6 x 6, for sale here

Today was one of those days.  It had good and bad. 

this is what the after-school equation looked like:

  field day
  92 degree weather
  school is almost out
+exhaustion
___________________
big, big freak outs

When one goes down like that you know how it effects the whole.

After the dust had settled and bellies were full and babies were in bed, I decided it would be a good time to run an errand.  So I took my tired sticky body and put it in the car and as I pulled away the same thing happened that always happens:



She ran as fast as she could alongside of me as I slowly drove away.  I watched as the smile spread on her face.  The sun shone from behind lighting up her hair and as she got to the edge of the property I looked in my review mirror and she stopped and cupped her mouth and shouted, "I love you SO MUCH!"  Her hand thrown high in the "i love you" sign.

And after I shouted the appropriate response I promptly prayed that I would not forget.  Too many moments have left my brain and I don't want that one to flitter away into the void. When I'm old and grey and my life is falling away from me, one of the things I want to remember is my child, happy and full of love with the sunlight kissing her head and possiblity holding her hand.

This path we're on has good and bad every day.

I will search for the beauty.

I will remember the joy.

I will let the bad teach me its lessons and stand taller as I let it take its place in the void, activly seeking the good all around me. 

There is always a light ahead of us with the promise of joy and peace and I am drawn to it with love in my heart.