unpracticed

what is the gesture of a woman's hand covering her mouth?

what is the gesture of a woman's hand covering her mouth with eyes wide open?

-Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds

i haven't been speaking. i have been afraid, doubting. that my words don't matter. that i am wrong. that people {i love} will criticize, ostracize. that i should just forget it. that learning to write and make art and be present are selfish, and i have two babies and a man that need me. need my time and attention. and there isn't enough of it.

at least not if i want to get any sleep.

i cannot do what I want, because I am doing what i must. 

Must I forever walk away from what is real and true and hard? 

When it comes to words, rather than using our own voice, 

authentic and unpracticed, 

we steal someone else's to shield our fear. 

 (also from When Women Were Birds)

a superiorly ironic quote, yet it was what finally propelled me into acting. into sharing my writing again in this space. i think it was how she paired the adjectives "authentic and unpracticed". that sometimes the unpracticed can be the most authentic. i am taking this amazing, life-changing ecourse on story and its telling. and since the day it started, i have not composed a single blog post. (what i have posted in that time were prewritten poems or just my list of #dobravethings on saturdays) 

because the current state of my "voice" is: unsure. 

not just unsure of how to tell the story, but i still find myself in the throes of how to live the story.

and if i am so unsuccessful at stepping into freedom, leaning into the light, 

how can i believe i have anything to offer anyone? 

but maybe what needs to be offered is me. right now. on this blogspot altar. maybe me - in process and all - is where i am supposed to be. and where i am supposed to invite you into.

so come in. have your third cup of coffee with me, too much sugar and all, and let's talk.

if i could do anything: my life-vision {which becomes brave as it gets feet and hands and wings put to it}

if i could do anything.

i’d write poetry and sing to the hearts of broken women.

dancing where my words and the melody of my life touch yours.

opening something that was closed.

touching to heal something that was broken.

freeing what was held captive.

drawing on his life, I long to breathe life.

speaking light in dark places.

painting beauty for ashes.

my uniquely designed life-flesh set to music and nearness.

i penned that vision tonight, thinking these were new things that i was just realizing i desired...
then i looked back at this journal page from a couple weeks ago and saw an echo of almost everything in it...
and THEN... echoes of the prophet isaiah as he foreshadows the deliverer
(jesus claims this as his life-vision-purpose)

the spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to grant those who mourn in zion --
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord
that he may be glorified.
isaiah 61:1-3

this is my desire, and #iaccept my desires.

this art journal page spread was created based on prompts from the art journaler community <3

linking up with emily