Winter SouLodge closed last week and it was a powerful ceremony of wisdom. I am so proud of the women who show up to their own soulwork-I'm sure I've said it a million times and I'm here to say it again: Women amaze me. Woman, the luscious archetype of strength and creative possibility seems boundless. IS boundless. What I love the most about SouLodge, and this is the only way it can really work, is how the women take responsibility for their own forward movement.
Spring Session is approaching quickly, so I took the opportunity to grow a bit myself creatively, seeing as how Spring is the session in which we will plant the seeds of creative growth for 2012. The kids and I have been painting like mad since beginning Flora's class. It's been a pivotal piece of fuel to keep me on path.
I painted like a Coyote with her tail on fire in 2009 and 2010, and then made half a dozen in 2011. While quantity doesn't matter, practice does-at least to me. One of my commitments to myself in the new year was to create time and space to express in the way that is so vital to my soul.
Last year, I'd considered moving my work life into a delicious little space downtown, but with Brandon's work being out of town and moving house on the calendar, I backed out. Now that our lives are back here for a while, and trying to create with a bustling house of homeschooling and life here can be dodgey, I took a chance to see if the space was still open.
Eydie: Oh, Pixie, yes, the space you wanted was never rented. When would you be interested in it?
Me: Um....today?
Feeling a bit Anne Morrow Lindbergh, I moved very few things into the windowed space and checked out for a few days, lunching with my family there and testing what it's like to try to be home when I'm home and at work when I'm at work. So far it's going brilliantly.
Bought an old table desk across the street and painted it blue.
Watched as hearts of light appeared.
Moved in a cabinet for snacks and supplies.
Hung the thirsty canvases.
Made some tea. Popped some gojis.
Opened up Pandora's box.
And painted to save my life.
When there are no words, there is paint.
