Stonesthrow Cottage

The story of Butterfly Woman
 

Butterfly Woman was born a small caterpillar in a rather nondescript garden. She had an uneventful childhood in the garden, going to school with the other caterpillars learning how to avoid becoming a bird’s tasty lunch.  She entered her teen years a shy, awkward caterpillar with a few close friends.  She worked in the garden, always looking up and dreaming of one day flying around the garden just like the birds and bees.  Deep down inside she knew the caterpillars could change, that transformation was possible, but she didn’t know how to do it and she was afraid.  So she continued to live and work in the garden, and to read about other caterpillars who had transformed into butterflies. She learned that some caterpillars transformed by “thinking” themselves into butterflies. Others prayed and tried to live good lives.  Some tried to eat only certain foods and exercise regularly at certain times. Butterfly Woman became so confused – there were so many ways to transform and so much advice out there she just didn’t know what to do.  She felt so lost and lonely. One autumn night in the garden, while looking up at the stars, she fell into a deep, deep sleep. The darkness seemed to close in around her, and she slept longer and deeper.  She dreamed of blue summer skies, and flowers, and floating.  Then her dreams became dark and scary. Caterpillars, slugs and dark beetles taunted her and poked her.  “You’ll never be good enough to be a butterfly” they hissed.  And, “you have to do it our way, you’ll never get it right”.  They pushed her down winding paths with confusing signs that pointed here and there.  “This is the way.”  “No! Go here.”  “Don’t do this!” Butterfly Woman grew weaker and began to cry.  Then she saw a pale, luminescent green light coming towards here.  The light grew brighter and stronger, and as it got closer, she saw that it was coming from a beautiful Luna Moth Fairy.  The Luna Moth Fairy hugged her, and wiped her tears away.  “There, there little one.  All you need to remember is that you are loved and you are love.  That is all there is to know”, whispered the Luna Moth Fairy as she handed Butterfly Woman a tiny, beautiful, leather-bound book.  “All you need to know is in here.”  Luna Moth Fairy left her, and Butterfly Woman opened the book.  On the first page, in beautiful scrolled letters was written, “This above all, to thine own self be true”.  Butterfly Woman felt her self growing strong, and her heart so full of love that she thought she would burst. She stretched her arms out against the darkness and pushed it away with all her might.  She awoke to beautiful, sunny morning in the garden.  She felt cold and damp, but the sun’s light quickly warmed her.  She looked at herself and gasped.  Where once had been a plain, dumpy caterpillar in green dress, she was now wearing a beautiful yellow gown. A tingling came from her back and as she twisted her neck to look over her shoulder she saw the most beautiful pair of orange and black wings.  Wings! She had wings! Beside her on the ground she spotted the little book the Luna Moth Fairy had given her.  So this was more than just a dream, she thought. Lifting her face to the sky, and stretching out her wings she soared up over the garden. She couldn’t believe how beautiful it really was, and how tiny compared to everything she could see from her new vantage point in the sky.  And so began her journey to explore this world, armed with the book the Luna Moth Fairy had given her, and the knowledge that she was loved and was love, and could do anything she set her mind to.
 

(Butterfly Woman is the heroine I have created for The Artist's Healing Journey) 

This is the front cover for a journal I've made.  I'm going to be using the journal for Lani Gerity's "The Artist's Healing Journey" workshop.  I made it out of used 8.5 x 11 brown envelopes.  Took me a few weeks to collect enough envelopes to make three signatures.  Then I used a slightly larger envelope for the front cover. Sewed it together, decorated it and "voila"! I like how soft it is, and how well the envelopes take paint and glue and still hold up. 

Despite a couple of weeks of battling fatigue, I have been trying to be creative on weekends and get a few projects done.  Pictured below is a sketch of my youngest son - an assignment for my art course, Lesson 3 on drawing the human face :)  My first attempt at sketching a face since high school art class (Grade 9, way too many years ago). I have to say I enjoyed the challenge and, although there is definitely room for improvement, I wasn't too displeased with the results! Now back to the lessons and practice, practice, practice!

 

 

The other night I was at a local women’s business dinner when the subject of conversation turned to artists and a possible informal meeting of people interested in art in the community.  The conversation was piquing my interest and curiosity and had grabbed the attention of a woman seating at my table who happens to be an artist specializing in  carving and sculpture.  The Artist mentioned that she would really like to see some sort of art guild formed in the area.  Up to this point in the evening I had been enjoying my conversation with The Artist, but this is where I left my comfort zone and naively inquired “would you consider amateur artists part of the guild?”  (Me thinking amateur as in not exhibited, not formally trained, etc.).  So began a discussion on “art” vs. “crafts” and “artist” vs “artisan” and how one had to be careful in distinguishing the two.  This is when my inner critic chose to show up, sit comfortably on my shoulder and begin the process of deflating my energy balloon by insidiously whispering “you are not an artist” and “you are not in the same league as the Big Kids” followed by hissing in a Gollum like voice “you do Crraaaffftttsss………”.  Mr. Inner Critic carries a heavy weight and while he whispered, I nodded politely and began detaching myself from the conversation.
 
I carried Mr. Inner Critic’s weight home with me, my balloon now completely deflated and dragging along behind me as I pondered the evening.  And then I gave Mr. Inner Critic the slap upside the head he deserved.
 
You see, I might not be a Big Kid artist, but then I’m not trying to be one either.  The argument about what makes a “real artist” is the same argument in the writing circles about what makes you a “real writer”. Is it training? Is it how much you sell? Are you a writer if you self-publish? What about if your writing is only published online and you haven’t been paid for it? Professional vs amateur?  These arguments, I suppose, have validity for those trying to make a living from their art.  And don’t get me wrong, I love and admire the Big Kid artists and writers.  Nothing moves me more than a well written novel or inspires me like a beautiful painting.  I am in awe and envy of some of the work I see out there, and I try to support and learn from these artists as much as I can. I am not judging The Artist for her views on what constitutes art and an art guild is an awesome way to get the work of the many talented artists in the area out there for people to see. I just happen to believe that there’s a place in this world for all the artists, writers, artisans, crafters, journalers, bloggers, etc.  It’s all good.
 
No, my dialogue with Mr. Inner Critic, my own personal art monster, gave me a chance to define what it is that I’m really passionate about and what art means to me.  When I grow up, I want to be an “Inner Child midwife”. I want people to get back in touch with that child that loved to play with paints and crayons and got lost in the act of creating and not in competition or trying to impress. I love doing journal and art journal workshops and watching people transform themselves from “I can’t write, I’m not really any good at this” to total excitement about what they can do with their creativity.  I love squishing people’s art monsters and Inner Critics.  When I go out into my little cottage studio to create, whether it’s collage or clay or paint or write, I’m getting in touch with the creative essence of the Divine.  It’s my form of prayer.  Art is a sacred tool, an inner healer.  There are days when the act of creating is more important than the finished product, and whether or not it constitutes art is not important. This is a process of self-transformation, not a competition with another artist. I think no matter what you are, it’s important to know what gives you joy and to stand firm in that no matter what the outside world thinks.
 
Call me a crafter, an artisan, an amateur, whatever.  They’re just labels.  But, if your inner child is longing to get out and play, call me.  We’ll have some fun in the cottage – no art monsters allowed.

I'm so happy that the weather (well, except for today) is starting to get nicer and that I'm getting back out to my little cottage-workspace more often.  I spend a good portion of my weekend puttering around in there and it is definitely restorative for me.  Yesterday was a glorious sunny day and I didn't even have to use the heater in the cottage.  I kept the screen door open and listened to the birds.  Today is rainy and cooler, there are flurries in the forecast for tomorrow, but the sun is supposed to return after that.  Let's hope it does.  

 A beautiful little indigo bunting has been visiting the bird feeder all day today, and that alone was enough to lift my spirits :)

 Here are a couple of pictures of what the inside of my little sanctuary is looking like these days (excuse the mess....).

 

One of the things I enjoy about living in a Very Small Town, is we can do things you can't in a big city. Like last night, which just happened to be one of the nicest evenings we've had yet this spring (finally!). We lit our first fire of the season in our outdoor pit, and sat around with CollegeBoy who is home for the summer, and just generally enjoyed the warm sunshine, the evening birds singing and the conversation. High School Boy even graced us with his presence for a little bit. Then, as the evening light turned dusky and the coals were just right, we roasted wienies for a late snack and went inside to enjoy a movie. Life doesn't get much better than that.

 As the outside world finally starts to warm up a bit, I have been out in the cottage more and more and in a nice "weekend frenzy" of creativity.  It is so great to have that space again, and to just be able to work on things and leave them and then come back to them when I have time - without having to pack everything up.

I'm not bitchy...I'm just releasing

At the end of the yoga session this week, my awesome yoga instructor tells us "you've released a lot here tonight, notice that over the next couple days - how your body has released. You may even feel bitchy, but you're not really, you're just releasing".

I want a t-shirt that says "I'm not bitchy, I'm just releasing"............

When I was talking with my spiritual director this weekend, I was going on about how I have all these things I want to do creatively and spiritually and that I was unsure of what I was supposed to be doing and what direction I wanted to head in next.

She encouraged me to recognize that I was in an "in-between" place at the moment, a transition, and to be comfortable in this place.  To rest in my creativity.

And then she said she had this image of a large pot, or cauldron.  Mixing it all together and brewing up what's next.  This collage came out of that image.

This weekend, I will be walking the labyrinth while on retreat and wondering what it is that I will bring in and what I will choose to take out.

 

That's the way it was around the house this weekend - empty nest.  Our oldest is not yet home from college - he'll descend upon us next weekend.  The youngest was away in the VeryBigCity across the border, so it was just hubby and I for the entire weekend.  Had some wonderful quiet suppers together, worked around the yard, and lots of time for creative pursuits.  Found the above nest in the yard on the ground yesterday.  Spent a bit of time in the cottage, tidying it up a bit.  Getting ready to move back in there soon, although it's still too early to put any paints or other supplies in there - they'll freeze.  Spring has been slow in coming and I am anxious to have my space again.  Space that will be much needed once our "nest" becomes full for the summer! 

My note cards are ready and about to go out in the mail tomorrow to Aunt Bobby for the Artella Note Card swap!  Sneak preview below:

 

 

 

She sings a new song,

gives lift to a new dance,

notes inscribed on her heart,

give hope another chance. 

 

 

Sometimes when I set out to create a SoulCollage card it turns out quite differently than what I expected.  Like this one.  I sat down with magazines around me, flipping through for images, intent on creating a card that reflected a phrase I had been meditating on - "I am the glory of God".

I ended up going in a slightly different direction.  I'm still not sure exactly what this card is trying to reflect.  I've thought of the seasons - winter turning to spring; of the cycle of life - birth, death, renewal; and finally of "blossoming".  Blossoming or birthing the crone (although I am not quite near crone phase in my life).

Today I got my copy of Christine's latest reflective art journal "What is Blossoming Within You" and I read the following which ties in so well to this card I had been working on:

"There is a playfulness and spontaneity to the season of spring, that invites us to join this joyful abandon. We are called to both listen deeply to the blossoming within ourselves as well as to forget ourselves - setting aside all of our seriousness about what we are called to do and simply enter the space of being." What is Blossoming Within You? Christine Valters Paintner, PhD

What are you longing to give birth to as spring approaches?

 

 Long time, no blog.  I had no idea that Lent this year would mean a long journey beginning with my Dad's hospitilization at the end of January, through to almost losing him mid-February, to his return home again last weekend.  I have spent the better part of my February evenings at the hospital, waiting and watching and journeying with him.  The last couple of weeks I have gone nightly to massage his feet, to try and help ease some of his pain and tension that he might sleep better.  It gave me time to ponder the upcoming Maundy Thursday service, also known as the "Service of Foot Washing".  A little glimpse of understanding of the compassion and tenderness with which Jesus washed the disciple's feet on that last evening he spent with them.

 It has been a long, exhausting Lent and I will be glad when Easter comes.  Needless to say I have not had much time for creative pursuits, but I did manage to dig out my collection of Easter eggs to decorate the kitchen with.  After all, "Easter time is the time for eggs, and the time for eggs is Easter time" (a flashback to some Easter cartoon I saw years ago....)

  

This week’s blog topic at Artella is heroes. Specifically, who is your hero and why.  This morning I was thinking that right now, my hero is anyone who can work a full day’s work, come home and find time to create some art, or write some poetry, or exercise, or stretch their body. The mid-winter blahs have officially hit me, like they do every winter, and I have zip energy left for anything at the end of the day.  See, my body is somehow primitively wired back to those ancient days of hibernation. Days without artificial light, TV, computers or other stimulus to keep you going long after the sun has gone down. Days when the darkness came you hunkered down in your cave or cabin or whatever, threw another log on the fire and rested. You slept, you dreamt of warmer days, and you waited for the light to return. You worked when it was daylight, and you rested when it was dark.  You only moved in the darkness to keep the fire going.  That’s where my body is at.  Instead, my body lives in modern times.  Times when everyone’s mantra seems to be “how can I do more?” I get up in darkness, go to work and spend the day under artificial lighting, go home in darkness and try to accomplish more things in a day then can be accomplished.  Sooner or later, the body wins. It must have its rest. “Resistance is futile” it says, in its best Star Trek Borg voice.  So forgive, if I post not much these days, or create much, or have the energy to respond to an email.  My body is craving primordial hibernation and it’s starting to win the battle.  And so I ask, is it not more “heroic” to listen to the body’s needs, rest when it is craving it, and return to fight the creative battle another day? Wishing you sweet winter dreams and time to hibernate, however that looks for you.  Spring will return eventually.
 

Last week, winter arrived with a "wall of snow" - yup, that's how they described it in the winter storm warning on the Environment Canada website.  Winter storm watch in effect, a wall of snow moving in across Lake Superior.  Wall of snow! Sounds terrifying doesn't it? I mean I was picturing this huge, white wall rushing down the Trans-Canada highway pushing away every thing in its path.

Of course, it didn't come as a wall but a heck of a lot of snow fell in a couple of days and we went from no winter to total winter overnight.  It's officially here.
 
So is December, so is Advent. I don't know if it's because my kitchen is still not yet complete and I'm counting the days down until it is, but I seem to be acutely aware of how rapidly Christmas is coming.  There are still presents to be wrapped and mailed, don't even ask me about the Christmas cards yet, and forget decorating.  We can't put the tree up until the fridge is out of the livingroom anyway :)

This morning on the way to work I had one of those moments when time froze for just a second.  The sun was coming up over the mountains, a beautiful orange glow spreading across the sky, the pine trees wore dresses of white, and the sky was that clear, light winter blue it is this time of year. It was awesome and I breathed it in, grateful that I live in such a beautiful country. Thankful that I'm warm and well fed and that I have a kitchen (even if it is in a mess) when so many don't.

 

The last of the oak leaves, cling to the tree.  Yesterday a few flakes of the white stuff fell.  A small flurry that didn't last long but just enough  of them to let me know that winter is just around the corner.  It's not unusual for here to have a blizzard by Hallowe'en, although the last few years have been milder and the snow hasn't come until December. As always, I am unprepared for winter. I'll be caught with that first snowfall madly rushing around trying to find my boots. Never fails. I miss all the signs.  Shorter, colder days, leaves gone  and the changing of the calendar into November. It always happens too fast for me!
 

I am in the midst of some major house renovations these days, and everything is dust and clutter in my house.  It's difficult to find time to create,  or space to create in and I find myself becoming a bit frustrated and stressed.  Yesterday, I looked out the window and saw these leaves and realized that I just had to take a picture of them before they were gone. Because one of these mornings, I'll look up from the dust and notice that winter has come.

If you're interested in looking at pictures of other peoples home reno projects, I have an album here that I update regularly with comments as we go along.