Assignments, I didn't like them in school and...

Attributes and Assigning Them

As humans we tend to judge people or things by how we believe them to be. It can’t be helped. This is part of our natural survival mechanism. As pagans we are riddled with this. Somehow the belief that everything must represent something else, uniformly, that it is true for everyone across the board, has been adopted. How many times have you opened up a book to tell you exactly what every color represents? How you should regard every quarter? The list goes on and on. Attributes have been assigned to EVERYTHING for us, and we tend to just take it and roll with it like it is perfectly natural, but the key to this is, while assigning attributes to things is natural for us on a very basic human level, following along what other people tell us "is right" is not.

Huh?

Let’s say you REALLY like a shirt. Like, when you see it you get this image of you rocking it, turning heads when you walk down the street, owning the nightclub, feeling amazing about yourself and like you can conquer the world. This shirt is reasonably priced and it is yours…until, your best friend says she doesn’t like it and that this other shirt would do all that and more, a different shirt you don’t love. Do you fall in line with your friend or do you follow your gut?
I hope you follow your gut.

Now, I’m going to move this over to “our world”. I laugh every time I see “Use green to attract wealth, because green is the color of money.” and “Pine represents money, because it’s green.”  Seriously? Really?
Fact. Most money in the world has no green in it.
Fact. Shells, especially those that are pale and shiny, were some of the first “currency” on the planet. Gems and crystals. Metals and minerals. Very few of these are green.
Why then should green, or something because it’s green, represent money based solely on that one single property? Why are we assigning that attribute when it doesn’t make historic, cultural or anthropological sense?
Would the Egyptians or ancients actually use a green candle and pine oil?
Hmmmm

Next, I was reading a book for kitchen witches which said that tart cherries should be used for alertness, awareness and wakening. When I looked deeper into this, the cherries were assigned this attribute because of their taste. As an herbalist this arbitrary nature made me laugh. Tart cherries contain the chemical melatonin, a sedative used especially by swing-shift workers to help them sleep naturally without side effects. Anyone using this “spell” would find themselves anything other than awake, alert and aware.

Here’s another, stop me if you know this one- you are joining in a ceremony. You’ve been handed a script to read when you call the corner. You simply don’t feel the wind candle should be yellow and the words don’t resonate with you but you do it anyway because this is what you’re told. I’m sure we’ve all found ourselves in this situation more than once. Now reflect on how effective that working was for you personally, deeply. If it doesn’t resonate within you, if you can not connect with it, it doesn’t work. Someone else assigned attributes to that area and it made you uncomfortable and discomfort does not good magic make.

I’m going to be bringing this up over and over but here is a bit of a revelation for you- we are the only religion that is supported by science.

Let me say this again: Biology, Astronomy, Physiology, Botany, Chemistry, etc…  AND  Archeology, Anthropology, Proven History all support our beliefs.

WOAH!  How huge of a revelation is that?

We have countless studies to prove several of our beliefs, practices and holidays.

In addition to that, personal experience should be taken into account. For example (and this is another topic I will get into when I hit the “B’s”) I absolutely deplore that darkness/black is associated with bad and white is all things good.  Fact of the matter is that science has shown black is ALL. It absorbs everything so it contains a little bit of each color we see. White is the absence of all, it reflects it all away. I, personally, am allergic to the sun. I am no fan of daylight at all and I find soothing comfort in the darkness. The idea of dark/black denoting evil is absolutely ridiculous to me when light hurts me so much.

I was looking through the same kitchen witch book from earlier that said to keep lavender for comfort, and while the chemical properties are proven to calm, for someone with asthma or allergies it is anything but soothing.

Just because someone in a book said something is so, does not mean it is. Just because someone said “this is ancient wisdom” does not mean it is (in all fairness, Wicca only came into being 70 years ago, not much longer than Scientologists, and has been a mottled practice since then).

It’s so easy for us to go through the neo-pagan shelves at the bookstore and online and call that research, to rely on someone else doing the work for us, but in all honesty- is that truly YOUR practice? Is that you following your path or is it simply walking the path someone else laid down for you?

This, too, is ingrained in our society. Centuries of churches telling us how to believe, laws telling us how to behave, teachers telling us how to think, bosses telling us what to do…it just goes on and on. It’s become our comfort zone collectively as a society to drink down and eat up what others have written or tell us, whether or not it strikes a positive chord deep within us. This is where people end up moving from one thing to another, lost and not knowing who they are. It’s an epidemic in all facets of our society but I see it very much in the pagan community as people cycle from solitary to coven to open circle to group to solitary from one pantheon to another. They spend soooo much money on books, and then do spells from the books to bring money to them. I stand in awe and sadness when I see people desperately looking for a home, but I am also aware I can not give it to them.

Why? Am I some cruel, heartless bitch that just stands by? Perhaps sometimes, but rather than that I am a fan of the Socratic method of learning. Socrates did not believe in giving people the information, he believed in giving people the tools of finding the information and letting them discover truths on their own. This, he said, helped people learn more and on a much deeper level. This I whole heartedly believe. And with the internet at our fingertips, it’s so much easier than ever.

Here’s my challenge to you. The next time you want to work some energy for protection, instead of opening a book and seeing what other people feel should be protective, close your eyes and feel it for yourself. What colors, scents, objects?  Do some research outside of pagan specific books. Look to history, anthropology and science. If you have pagan books, skip to the bibliography and look for the more academic ones. Make it your own.

If blue is angering, not soothing, then don’t use it to calm you.
If you want to make a tea for healing, research the science and lore of the herbs yourself.
If you want to buy that shirt, then do it and wear it with pride!

Always with kindess…blessed be.

The Velveteen Altar

The Velveteen Altar

When I thought about this project I wanted to pick things that weren’t status quo. I attempt to be organized so I wrote down “a” words for two weeks, ones I felt compelled to write about and I selected my two. This was not one of them, but it niggles and digs at me all the same.

Altars. As defined by dictionary.com
“1. an elevated place or structure, as a mound or platform, at which religious rites are performed or on which sacrifices are offered to gods, ancestors, etc.

2. Ecclesiastical  communion table.

3. ( initial capital letter) Astronomy . the constellation Ara.

4. (in a dry dock) a ledge for supporting the feet of shorings.”

Oh, now there are some tasty morsels to dig into, aren’t there? A constellation? How perfectly sublime. My favorite is the dry dock definition. Such a figurative definition for us to latch onto, should we so choose. A supportive structure for our shorings. I do so love that one.

Then of course we go to the more religious ones. A communion table. A platform for rites and sacrifices.  These smack of control. Sacrifices that we determine, and so being aren’t truly sacrifices. Rites we govern, or worse, we glean from someone else and don’t truly feel ourselves. It’s so common in the pagan community to see people reading in a staccato measure from a piece of paper while moving things around according to the instructions in the manual. This kind of altar brings to memory so many rites and passages I’ve attended that ring hollow. Impersonal tables set according to a drawing in a book. It lacks heart and depth, replaced by fear of taking a wrong step or saying the wrong word. It pains me to see this happen because it’s so unnecessary.
See…and I’m going to admit this much to the admonishment of some, but it’s okay. Really it is…
Here it goes…

I don’t like altars.
Not.
One.
Bit.

This entire thing of requiring one place to worship, a specific area that is consecrated just isn’t natural to me. This is a human need, not one of gods or nature. We create god/desses in our image because, honestly, it’s all we have to draw on. This does not apply solely to physical imagery though. We, as people, love the idea of attention. Even the meekest person will secretly feel themselves go a-tingle and perk up at the idea of someone loving them unconditionally, doing their bidding, worshipping them. So of course we put that desire from within ourselves onto the needs of the god/desses. We, humans, need consistency and some predictability. If you know that every ritual you will go to the same exact spot, it makes life easier. It used to be the sacred alters, groves and worship houses aligned with something special- from Stone Hedge to the Mayan Temples but over the years it’s become a habit to have them in our homes or tossed up from some awkward sense of pagan propriety. It’s tradition. It’s history. It’s human.

I use the words nature and natural a lot. You are going to see it over and over because that is where my heart lies, where my faith rests and where my spirit soars. I understand nature. There is a chaotic order to it that resonates within me. The heady, musty smell of earth while feeling the cool granules between my fingertips is intoxicating. From the caress of a gentle summer breeze lingering my cheek to the bitter sting of a winter wind, I am entranced by every breath. The nurturing and destructive dichotomy of fire is perplexing and mystifying, even as I am buoyed up and nourished by the depths and defiance of water. There is nothing there about a table covered in a tie-dyed, over-processed, screen-printed fabric, reeking of white sage and sprinkled in water blessed under the full moon with bits of dead plants and food cast offs left on it to nourish no one as it collects dust in the corner of a room where it is out of the way of our day to day lives. Why, then, do we assume this is natural and how it must be?

I reflected on this once, from my perspective as a kitchen witch, and I found I simply could not, in good faith, lay food and drink upon a table to dry up or rot away. We, in this house, are not in danger of starving so truly the meaning of it being a “sacrifice” is lost. It felt wrong and un-natural so I stopped doing it and I was not struck with blight, knocked on me arse by lightning or dunked in the briny depths by a put out deity. Instead I started giving those items to the world. The drinks now sate my plants. The food is now offered to the animals outside. It’s nourishing and more natural. It feels better, as if I am helping my world just a little, fortifying it a little each time. It adds an uplifting energy to all that I do.

Now, do not get me wrong. This is not to say tables do not have their place, nor do I believe that those who swear by altars are somehow “wrong”. We all need some place to put stuff. We all have to put the candles somewhere safe yet, if all of nature is sacred, then anywhere we choose to lay the tools down should automatically be sacred, without needing consecration.  We cast circle. We spin our wards and take our protective measures when we set to worship. Safety is then, not an issue. I’m a big fan of decorating tables for holidays, of finding a piece of ground and calling quarters from there, of speaking from the heart, of moving by gut, by instinct, by nature- making sure that those decorations used can either be reused or be somehow recycled or reclaimed by nature.

In the same vein are the items on the altar.  Isn’t an object used every day, loved and cherished more sacred than a chalice set aside for use only on high holidays, relegated to a shelf/table/mantle to collect dust the rest of the year? This reminds me of the Velveteen Rabbit, the children’s story about the stuffed rabbit who was so loved by a child that it’s button eye was popping off and it’s soft, lustrous fabric had become dull and threadbare. The child sadly became ill with “fever” which means all the belongings in the nursery were to be burned, including the rabbit. Instead, when the rabbit was taken outside to be burned it was magically turned into a real bunny- because anything so loved and so cherished did, indeed become real to the child. Therefore, instead of a pretty altar shouldn’t we use that athame and chalice everyday? Allow it to nourish us, to become worn from our hands, imbued with our energy and grow from the power of use and love? Those candles take on more meaning if they are not tucked into a beautifully decorated corner but cherished and used to warm our nights and light our lives.
Since we don’t know when the veil will claim us, perhaps things shouldn’t be saved for those “special occasions” as much as enjoyed right now- from that wine that would be the perfect drink at Midsummer to the nightie that would be particularly tempting on May Day. There will always be more “perfect wines” and another Midsummer but not another right now.

The more complex we make things, the more controlled they are, the less natural they become and the further from the true spirit of paganism it is, at least for me.

Be blessed and be well.

Big A, little a, What begins with A?

Anathema. It’s a beautiful word, isn’t it? It rolls off the tongue and feels so good in the mouth…Annnnatheeeemaaa. Mmmmmmmmm.  Say it with me…Anathema. That’s good isn’t it? It has this breathy, sexy quality. So sumptuous and sensual but then there is the definition.

According to dictionary.com Anathema is “a person or thing detested or loathed.”  Woah! Such a dark meaning for such a lovely word, but isn’t that so true for so much in the world? In nature beautiful things are often poisonous. Some of the most repulsive are decadent (Ugli fruit anyone?).  However, as pagans we seem to encounter this all too often. The second definition offered for anathema is “a person or thing accursed or consigned to damnation or destruction.” Sigh

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? How often do we hear that those who aren’t of a majority religion are damned? Our faith is feared though rarely questioned in a thoughtful conversation, and thus we become the damned. I can not think of a pagan that I personally know who has not encountered this, from strangers who see a piece of our jewelry and view it as an invitation to blow their top at us to family members who want nothing more than to save us, everyone seems to have an opinion on the safety of our eternal souls. All too often we are called out to defend ourselves, our faith, to those who prefer to hear their own denouncements over our explanations. It can be exhausting work being a pagan, just trying to either keep it secret or get it accepted.

Ohhhh…that last word. Another “A” word. Acceptance. It goes hand in hand with anathema really.

I spent years angry…no. That’s an understatement. I spent years IRATE at being condemned on the supposition that somehow I am a lesser person for following a natural path. Talking to other pagans only served to anger me further. To hear tales of our parenting, our intelligence, our goodness, the very validity of our existence being called into question scorched my broomstick. Truth be told, it still does. Thinking about it now I can feel the flush of blood hot beneath my skin and the pulsing in my ears starting to drown out the Celtic music playing in the background. deep breath

M’kay. I feel better now.

Like many, I figured if I’m educated and well thought out then I would be heard. I learned as much as I could about every form of paganism, working my way through the “Llewelyns” and beyond. This resulted in conflicts now becoming yelling matches. They would preach at me, I would raise my voice to be heard and it would escalate from there. Ahhh…the folly of youth. One of my favorite quotes is “It’s hard to hear a whisper when hate is shouting in your ear.”- Will Ryker from Star Trek:TNG  When two people are yelling all it creates is a stress migraine and hard feelings. Lesson learned.

The next step, in my mind, was to educate myself on the religions of my opponents (mostly my family, btw). I learned the Old Testament and The King James Version. I found I really love the fables in the pages and encourage anyone to read them, but reading them only served to fill me with more conviction in my own beliefs. Then I turned my sights on the Qur’an and the Torah. Once more I found the stories intriguing, the lessons enlightening and my belief in my faith more steadfast than ever. I was armed to the teeth with contradictions and hypocrisies. This war was going to be won by me.

 
All of that studying and arming only lead to more fighting. Somewhere in my ignorant mind I thought if I could use religious reason, THEIR religion, against them that they would understand why I am pagan better. They would see the error in their own ways. In all of my plotting and planning I overlooked something quite profound…it’s faith. Faith does not need facts as much as I do. Faith does not need to make sense to be believed and so those who blindly follow their faith unquestioningly will only be confused when they are called into question. When you take an already defensive animal and you back it into a corner, it does not become meek but rather seems to sprout an extra row of razor sharp teeth and daggers from its palms. That animal changes form and becomes something so beastly and dastardly there is no recognizing it and absolutely no fighting it. I have the war wounds to prove it, btw.

This was the time I went into hiding, not because these beasts were hunting me, which it did feel like as I swear “Operation Convert Lynnie” was in full swing at one point, but because my head was now bursting with all this religious information and I couldn’t win. Not with the majority religions and not with my own. I knew everything from Gardner to Cunningham, the Farrars to Telesco and it all clashed horribly. In the eyes of others I was the “go-to” knowledgeable one when information was needed but what good is the education without the wisdom to apply it? Feeling lower than low I retreated.

The Universe knew that was what I needed. I recoiled from religious conversation and attempted conversions. I pulled away from the pagan community and I did my own thing. My. Own. Thing.

This was a turning point. I accepted. Through the simple act of living I sifted through all the “you’re supposed to do this and this”, through the “rules” and found what felt good, what feels natural.
Woah.

That was a realization. The glorious history of the pagan faith is nature. Not just nature that happens outside our windows. Not nature in a recycling-green energy-not wearing make-up-crunchy granola kinda way. Nature is in the core of who we are; listening to our inner voices, our gut instincts, not thinking and just being, looking to the universe and tapping into that. When I was being religious I was not being natural. When I was over thinking and being studious, my mind governed over everything and I forgot to just live. I made war and called it defense, a very human thing to do. When I stopped and came back to what I personally believe in- the power of nature and my place in it- I realized that I missed the point all along.

To accept.

To accept who I am, what I believe and what the Universe throws at me. To accept the continuing learning process that is life. To accept that others do not believe the same, and never will, and that they don’t need to. To accept that fighting them is really a waste of energy, of time, of personal peace- all of which are far to precious to toss away in some search of intellectual self-satisfaction.

When I found that acceptance I no longer felt the need to wear pentacle clothing and flash my faith around.  I realized that by being loud and proud I was inviting that anathema into my life and I didn’t need to do either. The desire to defend myself and my faith melted away, being simply content to smile and nod or shrug and walk away when someone feels the need to “save my soul”. In fact my father-in-law, whom I love dearly, recently gave me a gift, a book meant to convince people to convert to Christianity. My husband pointed out how insulting the gift is, which yes it is, but I prefer to think of it as my father-in-law caring enough about me to try to save me…and I feel badly that he can’t see that I’m safe. When a conversation begins that would once have resulted in a verbal sparring match, I instead thank them for their interest in my well being and assure them I am just fine as I am. I’ve learned to accept it all.

Because, truly, I am just fine with who I am and on the path that I’m on.

Just as I hope you all are.

Be blessed and be well.

Dear America

Dear America,

My name is Lynne. I am married to a wonderful man. We own a home, two cars and both work…hard. We love our jobs and we’re good at them but we fight for every dime we make, and then we watch much of it go towards taxes- federal, state, school, property, etc. We hemorrhage money for taxes.

We have a son. He’s what you’d call a “good ol’ boy”- involved in sports, very social and fun-loving. He’s 16. As parents we’ve been working his whole life to instill in him the value of hard work and a dollar. At home I’ve tried to teach him about credit, about prioritizing his cash flow, about product research to get the most quality value for his money. We’re running into a problem with this though. Work for teenagers is hard to come by, just as it is for everyone, and his needs are getting more and more expensive. Games and game consoles, phones and cars are far more expensive than the Matchbox and Playskool versions of days gone by.

I introduced myself but, honestly, I didn’t need to because you know me. I am your neighbor, the small business owner up the street competing with Wal-Mart, your child’s teacher, your spouse. I am you.

I’ve been so poor that I've collected food stamps and state aid. I am not proud of it but I worked and paid into that system in case I needed it, just like everyone else. When I needed it, I used it. I’m telling all of you who claim it’s living in luxury, it is not even enough to live on. I washed clothes in a bathtub and rolled pennies in cut-up envelopes in order to buy diapers. I lived in day to day terror not knowing if I could pay my electric bill in the dead of a Great Lakes winter or if I could stand eating the WIC afforded peanut butter for one more day. The only people who think that is a comfortable existence are ones who have never been in it. 

I know scoff at me all you want but at the time I was a single mom and the father left me with nothing. Not a dollar, not a dime. My point is that not everyone on state aid is a drunken, drugged up, lazy, abuse-the-system kind of person and frankly, it’s arrogant and offensive when such statements are made. We, the single moms on the program, were treated poorly by the over-stretched and underpaid social service workers, a humiliation you will most likely never know, but we worked hard and got off the program. Yet, in this climate people are having a harder time doing so and yet here are Americans kicking fellow Americans when we, as a nation, are down. No one went after the deadbeat father on my behalf, and instead chose to vilify me. I am not ashamed to admit that it confuses me.

When I say I am you, I mean it. Poor or middle-class, I’ve been there, scraping and scrapping along with you.

So here we are now, a middle class family treading water and trying to teach our child to grow up to be a good American…but then who are the role models? Politicians and celebrities? It turns my stomach.

I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican. I will not follow a party because they can give impassioned speeches that might appeal to one topic I am concerned about. One. Out of so many. Instead I choose to read, to educate myself and listen to all sides before choosing. Sadly, I can no longer choose because neither side is making sense.

We voted for a bipartisan government, but we haven’t been given that. We have asked, in no uncertain terms, for help EVERYWHERE- on the internet, in the media, on the streets and lawns of our government and financial institutions but instead of turning an interested ear we, the constituents who voted for you, are being attacked by you, our own government.

Let me say that a different way…

To the government:

We voted you in because you promised to listen to us and now you are turning against us. Whether or not you see it that way, we do.

We need large corporations and the wealthy to bear some of the tax burden that has been placed on everyone else in the country. Our backs our breaking from the weight.

We need large corporations to be held accountable for their inept budgeting and their part in the destruction of the American work force. Bail-outs are simply positive reinforcement of bad behavior. Instead, hold CEO’s accountable for their “bonuses” when they have laid off thousands. Offer incentives to those who don’t outsource, who create jobs and products here in the US and for those who go a period of time without laying off. Corporations need to understand, and care, that they are part of this problem.

It’s been 10 years. We need to not be spending billions upon billions of dollars overseas in conflicts and refocus those man hours and funds back here at home. Yes, what’s going on in other countries is a tragedy, so is the path we’re on. Have you taken a walk in any major US city poor neighborhood lately? I imagine not. Perhaps you should. They look like war zones.You are sacrificing our loved ones, spending our money and for what? It’s time to get out. Starving junkyard dogs are not effective guards and that is what we have become. Let another NATO pup take our place. We’ve done our duty.

AFFORDABLE health insurance needs to be available for everyone. Again, I will reiterate this- not having health insurance affordably available damages the well being of our entire nation. Fining people without jobs, who are barely scraping by, is adding to the financial burden not helping to alleviate it. Having insurance is simply not enough, GOOD insurance is the key. What good is having health insurance with a $500 deductible when our annual visits will never reach that $500? Paying for insurance at that point is simply a waste of my hard earned dollar and putting it into the pocket of someone else when I could use it to feed my child.

We see you, when you are supposed to be focused on solving problems, back on campaign trails, sinking money into promoting yourself talking about problems you’ve made no attempts to solve. It’s angering. It’s demoralizing. It’s Un-American. YOU, our government, are Un-American.

This country was founded on the basis that all men are created equal and that all dreams are possible, yet here you, the government, are telling us that we are not equal to you, that you do not need to listen, that we are somehow lesser than you which is why we need you to make decisions for us. That is untrue and Un-American. We don’t need you to make decisions for us, we need you represent the choices we want. There is a HUGE difference. We've made our selections, we’ve said what we NEED and we want you to be our one voice to make sure it gets done. You have failed us, government, and you have done so in a manner as explosive as the Hindenburg but with the flippancy of Blanche DuBois.

Really, it’s simple. If we don’t have jobs then we can’t spend and the economy continues to tank.

It’s a cliché but it holds true- if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem and I am saying, you are the problem.

I get it. You want us to pay taxes so that we can pay your paychecks and let the money trickle down from there. That is what Reagan set in motion. However, it doesn’t work. If I go to work and I don’t listen to my boss, then I don’t get paid and chances are, I’m out of a job all together.
I need someone, anyone, to justify to me why we, your constituents, The American Public, YOUR BOSSES, should continue to pay your astronomical salaries including all of the benefits you deny the people you claim to represent.

We are suffering and all you care to hear is the sound of your own voices screeching like alley cats fighting over a mouse that got away. This is not a machismo, bravado filled competition for power that you are in. This is a tug-of-war and millions upon millions of lives, ours and our children’s, are the rope you are merrily tugging on.

I’m sick of it.

I’m tired of you hiding behind media and men with AK47’s when all we have are grass roots and pitchforks.

I’m tired of the tap dances and the chest pounding.

I’m tired of you lying outright and treating us as if we are mindless followers incapable of researching the truth for ourselves. I should think with the internet being as popular as it is you would fully understand that everything you say will be checked against real statistics and facts, and then you will be called out from there. We are no longer the uninformed and the meek of days gone by, relying on your words to lead us. We are fact checkers and internet savvy. The world is at our fingertips and still you lie as if we will never figure it out. That kind of underestimating is insulting at best, inciting and destructive at worst.

I’m tired of being accused of being “lazy” and “ignorant” (your words, not mine) when I don’t agree with your political stances.

I’m tired of hearing that being poor is noble. If it’s so noble then I encourage you to try your hand at it, not for a week or a month but for as long as it takes to get this country back on its feet and to earn your pay.

I’m tired of the playground politics, grandstanding and media hogging.

It was once said that men defending their homes with pitchforks and conviction will always win against the most polished soldiers. The Revolutionary War is a very good example of this. Many countries, in fact, have felt this over the years. You are giving us no choice. Our battle cry isn’t for freedom, it’s to save this country you want us to be so proud of, and to save ourselves within it.

Be the change or step aside.

Regards,
Lynne
Your very typical, every day normal, tax-paying, educated, hard-working American citizen

Dusting off the pages

Well hello! What a long summer it was, leading to a great Fall (yes, that's punny).

So much has gone through my mind and the busy nature of life swept it under carpets for another day. Now that the chill in the air has chased me back inside, those days are here.

I've started another blog which is an attempt to trace a new project- Life By Numbers- 365-52-12 to 101 in 1001.
That is things I will be doing every day, every week, every month in an attempt to whittle down my 101 things to do in 1001 days list.

Additionally, I have returned to writing. I find sometimes that summer painting season shoves my writing muse out of the picture, and hog ties her to a pipe in the corner until there are no more faces to paint. Now the writing has come back.

The required creative process seems to have changed.

At this time last year I was prolifically writing short stories, some based on prompts. The prompts were amazing.
Right now, not so much. I have inspiration in other ways but that doesn't help me with the writing community I'm part of. I know that reigning advice is to just sit down and write but it just isn't there. How do you make something happen that isn't there?

We'll find out tonight as I write for a very uninspiring prompt. I've pulled in music to help me...actually song lyrics which will serve as transitions for the action and thoughts, maybe. Hopefully. Right now it's all I have. Someone else's words.

Time to test the time honoured advice of "just write".

Maybe my muse is still feeling beat up. Perhaps she needs some Advil and a glass of water to nurse herself back to her previous glory.
Perhaps.

10 ways to Creation- the first 3 baby steps

On a writing group I am in, we have been reviewing the top 10 pieces of advice from "famous" authors.

As always, there have been absolute pearls of wisdom buried deeply within dung.

What I found almost insulting were the authors who seemed to approach the task with useless sarcasm.
Did they not realize the purpose was to offer guidance to those who follow?
Did they not care?

Some, in their efforts to appear like mysterious, intelligent, creative artistes, were baffling at best. Simple statements with no clarity gave us much to discuss and almost nothing to bite into. It was, at times, very unfulfilling.

For those of us wishing to learn, it was frustrating to read holier than thou perspectives from authors we'd never even heard of.

It did, however, inspire me to think of what my 10 pieces of advice would be for anyone diving into the creative pond.

So far I have thought of 3 that are imperative to my creative process: be it art, writing or costuming.

1. Research. Do not assume you know. Do not assume your audience does not know. In this age of information, people know more obscure things that we give them credit for.

2. Remember all the rules you've been taught about creating a piece, and throw them out the the window, into a hurricane and watch them blow away. When editing, use them as guidelines. When creating, go with your gut.

3. Be flexible and open to change. Change in your outline or notes. Change in your characters or settings. Change in design. Just allow for a bit of wiggle room. All creations like to breathe and I love to be surprised when they are done.

The Process of Creating

I write. I make art. These are just things I do.
I would not be so bold as to call myself an author or an artist, even in the sitting-in-a-coffee-house-while-attempting-to-look-earnest-and-artsy sense.

Join any chat group, read an artist blog long enough, and inevitably the question of "How does one create?" comes up.
I find it surprising that anyone would attempt to define such a magical process. Then I realized, it is not magic for some, or rather for many. It seems that plotting, planning and premeditation control the creative process. This begs me to ask, is that truly creating?

Of course, in the very base of the definition, it is. You are giving birth to something new to the world. At the same time, where is the spontaneous nature that can lead down magical rabbit holes?

I took the time to evaluate what I do.

I write. I start with an idea, some distant twinkle that has no clear definition and I write a few words on a page. The twinkle becomes clearer, less obscure. Images begin to appear in my minds eye, slowly at first like a photograph building speed into a flip book and eventually rolling off like a movie. My fingers ache to keep up with it all as the action unfolds. I sleep, breathe and eat these alternate worlds.

Most interesting to me is that there are times when I have such a clear idea of how things will go, and then these living beings dancing across my page tell me "No." They move along at their own pace and tell me how their lives will be. I am simply their vessel, the one who allows them to come to life. These characters honour me by allowing me to tell their stories, and in doing so they enrich my life.
I can't ever say that there is a process to that, or that I create them. I see and am inspired. I absorb. I translate.

My art, body art and sketches that is, comes from a wholly different place.
This involves much planning on my part. I have templates that I draw on to get the images to flow just right. There is researched involved. Sifting through images on Flikr, Google and books until I find something that works just right.
The image I come up with is a gem in the rough, one that becomes refined and polished later with details that evolve as I move through the piece. The end result is generally an image that comes close to what I had originally set out to create.
Process is a monumental part of these projects.

Which is more accurate to my personal style? Well...that, my friends, is a topic for another day because I do believe it involves defining my style. What I do know is that they both work for me.
Neither is flawless, and I fully admit that it may not be correct for everyone but I don't believe for an instant that there is a correct way to write or to make art.
Whatever teachers, professors or professionals say may be relevant for them but at the end of the day what I am left with is MY computer, MY pen and paper, MY own creative mind.
And that's honestly good enough for me.