Messy Canvas: Free to embrace the Imperfect and call it an Art

Workjobs

by mandy on February 24, 2010 · 2 comments

When I first moved to Oklahoma and mentioned to some friends that I was interested in homeschooling, the name Cheryl Lange came up repeatedly. I hadn’t been here a month before I got to meet her. She was every bit as wonderful as was promised. A woman full of wisdom and knowledge and I soon became a fan. It’s nice to rub shoulders with people who can provide some direction, answer some tough questions and give me new things to consider and to challenge my thinking.

Cheryl has a ministry called Lodestar. I’ve been fortunate to attend a few of her workshops (I actually get to go to one this coming weekend!), and I always leave feeling refreshed and rejuvenated to dive back into my version of homeschooling. My version being the one that uniquely fits our family. I don’t think homeschooling is for everyone, and I certainly don’t think there is one way to do it, but I do like to feel empowered and freed up to do the version of homeschooling I see in my head. A very laid-back, organic, curiosity driven, and creative environment. Cheryl makes me feel empowered. You gotta love people like that.

So anyway, Cheryl has a handful of books she always mentions. I think I’ve read nearly every one, especially early on when we were still trying to make our education decision. And finally with some Christmas money, at the beginning of this year I was able to purchase a few of the “activity books” that she always talks about. One of those is called Workjobs.

This past weekend we pulled this book out and I picked a few of the workjobs for us to make. They are basically teaching materials that once created can be used time and time again and my kids can do them with little to no help. We have started a workjobs box. I can imagine how fun it will be once we get a lot of these created. Like many of our homeschool ventures, we might do this for awhile and then tire of it, but for now, I hope we can make a couple of these workjob tools a week. And truthfully the book is stretching me creatively, making me think outside of the box of learning. I love that.

{ 2 comments }

I Can’t Enjoy You, I’m Trying Too Hard to Be You.

by mandy on February 22, 2010 · 17 comments

I like art. Big surprise right? I see it everywhere. I like splashes of color. I like textures. I like patterns. I like just the right grouping of words, just the right angle in a photo, just the right gathering of musical notes, just the right sprinkling of sugar on top of a scone. I like sharp contrast and messy edges. I like beautiful snippets from everyday life.

But there is this problem that sometimes weasels its way into my enjoyment of art. I suppose it could be labeled as envy. Yes, that is it, if it should be given a name.

It’s interesting to me that one of my strengths is that I am an achiever. And while that achieving strength is layered with all sorts of good qualities like having a great deal of stamina and being a hard driven, busy and productive worker, it also comes with what has been described as a “whisper of discontent.”

And here is where the interesting bit comes in…compare my strength with the definition of ENVY.

Envy – a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another’s advantages, success, possessions, etc.

By nature, one of my greatest strengths can also rear it’s ugly head as one of my greatest weaknesses.

And I must confess, I have to fight that whisper of discontent as an artist because I have a hard time letting my favorite artists just be my favorite artists. If I discover some new art, I don’t want to just enjoy it, I want it as my own. I feel some sort of competitive spirit rise up within me, the winds of discontent begin to blow and I think, oh, I could make art like that. Surely. And then I seek to not only try and make that art, but to, in some ways, become that person.

This all came pouring out one night as I sat across from Tony in Panera watching him sip on a chai latte. I love how he can coax things out of me that I’m struggling with and then bring some sense and clarity and hope to it all.

So I think this post could really be a series of posts, as I seek to unearth the artist I really should be, instead of all the artists I have tried to be. But for now, let’s just start with this simple and incredibly humbling confession.

I am not Ali Edwards.

I am not Elsie Flannigan.

I am not Keri Smith.

I am not Sabrina Ward Harrison.

I am not Penelope Dullaghan.

I am not Donald Miller.

I am not Pomplamoose.

I am not my artistic contacts in Flickr or Twitter or Facebook.

I am not _____.

And I have not been able to fully enjoy all of your beautiful art fully because there has been a piece of me, at one time or another, trying so hard to be you.

I am letting that go.

I am attempting to ignore my whisper of discontent, though I fear, in this life, I will never be able to completely silence it.

Even though I want to achieve it all, I realize that what results is me dangerously spinning my wheels. I flit from one art medium to another. I try and wear her shoes and then his shoes. I try everything and enjoy nothing. I don’t enjoy my art and I don’t enjoy others art. And that’s sad, because as I told you at the beginning of this post, I like art.

I am on a journey to find the artist Mandy Steward.

Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what I do. It is what God is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life!

That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original.

Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.

{ 17 comments }

You Have to Grow Up

by mandy on February 19, 2010 · 6 comments

When we were in California on vacation it rained the whole first week. We joked that it probably rained more that week then it did the entire 2 years we lived in California. The first time there was a break in the rain, we went to the beach, even though it was really cold and cloudy. We weren’t going to miss it.

The break in the rain didn’t last too long though and we were sent running back to our nice cozy and warm beach house. We were so blessed by this home as it was stocked with toys, books and movies.We watched a lot of movies!

Tony and I found great humor in our movie selections at night. He would pick out a James Bond and I would grab a chick flick and we would head to separate TVs to enjoy our selection. Really funny.

One night I was enjoying some time alone with a bowl of ice cream and Sleepless in Seattle. Right smack dab in the middle of the movie I was reminded of my word for this year, CHILDLIKE. It was this quote that brought all sorts of emotions and thoughts flooding over me:

You have to grow up. You just can’t keep having all these adolescent fantasies about how exciting your life is going to be.

This is said by Meg Ryan’s character. She’s trying to talk sense into herself. Trying to convince herself she needs to stay with the man she is engaged to even though it doesn’t feel right and even though it feels like there is so much more her life wants to be.

How often do I find myself in this very battle as I try to squish my faith into a reasonable box? I want to believe in so much more. I want to believe life is epic, the journey is of grand proportions, God is romancing me, calling me into great adventures and yet, you have to grow up. Right?

I am thankful that thus far in my life, I have always been able to make it over the hump of these feelings. Much like Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle, something always shakes me out of my “sensible thinking” and thrusts me back into fantasies and dreams. I hope this continues for the rest of my life. That I never lose the hope that propels me back into my childlike desires, my belief that there is so much more.

Last night I met a little two-year-old girl who kept telling me she was Wendy, from Peter Pan. She would giggle and throw her beautiful long blond hair over her shoulder in an innocent excitement and I really believe she thought she was Wendy, capable of floating off to Neverland at any given moment, hand-in-hand with Peter Pan.

A part of our heart always needs to believe we are capable of floating off to Neverland at any given moment. It is hope coming alive within us. It is believing the dreams inside us might actually be possible. It is that radical idea that maybe we don’t actually have to grow up. At least not entirely.

{ 6 comments }

I Have A Shocking Confession…

by mandy on February 17, 2010 · 3 comments

I’m not childlike.

OK, maybe every now and again I manage to channel my inner-child and actually live out my life with some sort of carefree, curious spirit. But it is for just a moment. Most days I am so adult.

I don’t like to make messes.

I don’t like to make mistakes.

I don’t like to do things without a purpose…a purpose that is worth my time, effort and focus.

I don’t lose track of time while playing, experimenting, exploring.

I don’t follow creative urges if they are going to take my day off course.

And you want to know the strangest thing about it all? I want to do all of the above.

I sat down today to do some drawing. I had a journal, a pen, and all I could do was just stare at them. Nothing came to me. I was blocked. I sorted my kids bookshelves instead, my empty journal and pen sitting beside me, quietly waiting.

I think being an artist and being childlike go hand in hand. I think there is something powerful about tapping into that childlike curiosity. You have to be willing to let a lot go, a lot of the stuff we pride ourselves on as adults. You have to be FREE. You have to be okay with being IMPERFECT. (Are these words sounding familiar?) And you have to be beautifully naive. Naive to all the adult tasks that call to us. Naive to reason. Naive to success.

I know this stuff. This is not new revelations I’m turning over here. So why is it so incredibly hard to live it? Is it even possible with my DNA? Can I really become more and more childlike? Can I somehow get back to the bits of me I have long since let go of?

This quote that I read somewhere keeps coming to mind:

We must create what we most need to find.

I have to find a way to be childlike. I’ve been reaching for it in so many venues of my life. Through writing, through designing, through reading, through conversations with God. But I’m ready to sink into it even more. I’m not sure how or what this will look like. I wish someone could say to me, “All you have to do is X, Y and Z.” Wouldn’t that be amazing?

It’s not going to happen.

Instead I must create a solution. I must spend 2010 getting my hands dirty, so as to create what it is I so need to find. I can only hope this journey will make interesting and inspiring blogging. I can only hope some of you will be searching for something similar in your life. Those of you are with me, feeling the tension of adult life while secretly pining for childlike living, let’s try and find another way. There has to be another way. God, please show us another way.

{ 3 comments }

I Will Get to That – Trust the Small Consistent Things

by mandy on February 14, 2010 · 5 comments

I’ve finally gotten into a sort of manageable workflow with caring for our home. For so long my to-do list said something to the effect of “set up a schedule.” I would try various things with chores and school and activities and errands, but nothing ever stuck with consistency. With that came a scatterbrained attempt at keeping up with the details. Days would go by without cleaning or without thinking about math or science. Then I would feel guilty and throw myself into action, cleaning frantically or frustratingly forcing a lesson with my kids. I never felt together.

Over the course of this last year I have been learning about the power of little things done with consistency. I’ve learned this through doing the 30 Day Shred. I’ve learned this through writing a novel. I’ve learned this through teaching art classes on a weekly basis. I’ve been trying to learn this with spending money on a budget and now I’m learning this in the upkeep of my home.

Things are assigned a day. I trust the schedule. I don’t have to worry or stress over the messy bathroom today because it will be taken care of on it’s scheduled day. I don’t have to worry about not being social today because I have days scheduled to hang with friends and for my kids to hang with friends. I don’t have to worry about all those boring scheduling questions I need to run by Tony because we have a nite set aside to talk over the details.

The hardest part, for me, in keeping a schedule is trusting the system. Because in the middle of doing it it can feel rigid and unnecessary and even stifling. The bathrooms look clean, why clean them today? I’m tired, maybe I’ll skip the “meeting” with Tony. What is one week without my kids doing science? No biggie.

But I’ve learned this about myself…if I skip it once I’ll skip it again and the next time will be even easier. Soon I’ll be back to weeks gone by and guilt setting in. I don’t care to be there. That’s precisely what I’m trying to avoid.

So I’m careful. If life happens and my schedule must be adjusted I think through the details of how I will put myself back on track the next day. I don’t beat myself up over it, I just think smart.

I suddenly am aware of how a few small choices every day can bring a world of change to my life. It’s not easy, but it’s so worth it. With a system in place I am freed up to live my life creatively and richly. Sometimes that truth alone is what motivates me to keep on keepin’ on.

So, what are a couple of small things you do in your life regularly that reap a great reward? Do you have more tips for managing the home? Though I’ve been doing it for 10 years, I so often feel like a newbie!

{ 5 comments }

Vegetarian Style

by mandy on February 12, 2010 · 7 comments

Our family has been using e-mealz to help with our meal planning. It’s helped free me up a lot to cook for us at home (something I have NEVER consistently been good at it) while not having to stress out about what to prepare and what to buy. It has taught me a lot in the kitchen simply because I’ve been cooking consistently. Consistent practice is so important when developing new skills/disciplines. I’ve learned to be creative in the kitchen with leftover ingredients. And for once in my life I can say cooking at home is a more natural instinct than eating out. That’s huge progress for me!

However, this post is about my newest adventure with e-mealz which is cooking vegetarian style.

Tony has said for awhile that I have permission to take as much meat out of our diet as I can. This is because of budget as well as health concerns. So I decided to switch us to the vegetarian plan of e-mealz for a few months. Last week was our first week.

After the first night’s meal, prepared with tofu, which I did not prepare very well, I jokingly told Tony that we might look back on this time in our life as “the one week we went vegetarian.” I had this sinking feeling in my stomach that I was going to end up throwing away a week’s worth of groceries because the recipes were all going to be horrible. I could feel all those negative thoughts flooding into my head. “You can’t cook. What made you think you had changed?”

I am all for trying new things, but I think we have to prep ourselves with the realization that we are going to make mistakes and the transition to something new is not going to be flawless. The exhilaration comes from pushing through anyway.

So I pushed through, and at the end of the week walked away with a few good vegetarian recipes in my back pocket. My family did not starve. I learned a lot of new things, and I have this new found confidence and excitement because I conquered one of my unknowns in the kitchen (there are many).

I want to continue to push on the walls of my box in other areas of my life as well. Why not learn to cook vegetarian? Why not take a dance class? Why not read books outside of my general area of interest or expertise? Why not ____? You fill in the blank for your own life.

We grow every time we branch out.

{ 7 comments }

Settling In

by mandy on February 10, 2010 · 2 comments

I’ve never been very good at settling. I have this quirky inability to let myself “set up camp.” I figure I will just be on the move again soon, so why waste energy getting settled?

I can remember being in college. It felt so silly to decorate a dorm room or apartment that I was only going to be in for a matter of months. It wasn’t really my home. It was just temporary. Sometimes I even had the silly habit of sleeping on top of my covers and sheets (with a blanket) so I didn’t have to mess up my made bed. I certainly wasn’t settling into college life with ease.

I can remember being in Colorado for my last semester of school. I was just months away from being married and I was so excited to just begin my life with Tony, and yet I was experiencing once in a lifetime moments at Focus on the Family Institute. I can so clearly remember my prayer to God, “You’re going to have to help me be ‘all here now’ because I can’t seem to do it, and I know I don’t want to miss out on these experiences by attempting to live in the future.”

Tony and I have lived in 9 homes in our 9 years of marriage. You can see the pattern and understand why the idea of settling in is foreign to me.

I think it’s ironic that this idea of settling in clicked with me a few weeks ago while on vacation in California. You see, I miss California. This will come as no surprise to many of you. It was a dear part of our family’s journey, where much spiritual growth and change and stretching occurred. So getting to return for a vacation was very exciting. I was determined to fully embrace those two-weeks, so I would then be ready to return to our home and life in Oklahoma.

When we arrived to the beach house that friends graciously allowed us to “borrow” for two-weeks, I went to work making it home. I unpacked our suitcases and hung up clothes. I put toiletries away in the bathrooms. I bought groceries and filled the refrigerator. I did a load of laundry. Though I knew our stay was temporary, I had the desire to be “all here now.” I was able, for a change, to stop be a turtle and carrying my shell around on my back. I set up camp, kicked my feet up, read a book. I settled in.

The settling in feeling only intensified as Tony bought roses for us. We filled a vase with water and placed the roses inside, brightening up the home and declaring it our own (if only for a short time).

What’s more, I begin to think about ways I could help us to better settle into our own home in Oklahoma. I begin to let go of not knowing when we’d need to move again and focus instead on the art of living in the present. Really setting up home. Really making it warm. Really making family life and relationships and activity thrive inside the home. Really living there with all 5 senses engaged.

If I must have a vagabond-type spirit about me, let it be that I’m a vagabond with the ability to settle in (if only temporarily.) To feel the carpet beneath my toes, smell fresh flowers, hear the laughter of kids fill a room, taste home-cooked food and see the beauty in routine and sameness.

{ 2 comments }

I’ve Taken That Into Calcuation

by mandy on February 8, 2010 · 2 comments

I recently read the book Around the World In Eighty Days by Jules Verne. I had never read it before, and I was in a particularly desperate mood to do some traveling myself. This book was calling to me from our bookshelves, as I believed it could satisfy my urge to see other lands. And while it did end up being a fantastic book about travel, I walked away with an entirely different piece of wisdom altogether.

From the very first pages of the book I was taken by the main character, Phileas Fogg. He was so incredibly calm. All manner of things could be spinning around him and yet he remained cool. He didn’t seem to experience shock or surprise and chaos did not effect him. Though he was a man of proper planning and schedule, he was not shaken by sudden change, as if he had taken it into calculation all along, even though he couldn’t possibly have.

As he is betting against his friends that he can in fact make it around the world in 80 days they start to question him. What about Indians or bad weather? What about shipwrecks or accidents? He tells them, this is all included in the 80 days calculation. His friends say, well sure, it could happen theoretically, but never practically.

“Practically also,” Mr. Fogg replies.

His friends continue to try and talk sense into him, telling him he could lose all his money “by a single accidental delay.” To which he confidently and coolly replies, “The unforeseen does not exist.” It’s as if he is able to plan and account for every obstacle, every rabbit trail, every bump in the road before he has even seen or heard of them.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how this characteristic of Phileas Fogg could be adopted into my own life. Is it possible that I could keep from responding emotionally to change, to hiccups in life, to the things yet to come that are out of my control and will take me off course? Could I respond instead with a confident, “Oh yes. I’m not surprised. I took this into calculation.”

Is this characteristic of Mr. Fogg so admirable because it only exists in fiction or is it possible amidst the realities of our lives? Amidst the strength of our faith? Amidst the bigness of our God?

There is great creativity and quite confidence required when living such as Mr. Fogg. One must be on their toes. I wonder if my toes are capable of such skillful maneuvering.

{ 2 comments }