I did another exercise from my Creative Workshop book this afternoon, gathering found materials and creating an alphabet. I forgot the W, but -ho needs it any-ay.
It's pollen season, friends. My pup Dorothy inspired tonight's art when she pawprinted her way to the front door. The tiny prints she left behind on the pollen-covered porch led me to ask my love to join me in making our own marks in the yellow dust.
Temporal art is fascinating to me. Artists who create extravagant sand art, for example. It could wash away with the tide by end of day, but the wonder of the process makes it worth it. Something labored over for hours, days perhaps, gone in an instant. What if our attachments to the rest of this world were approached in a similar way? Would we be happier, more satisfied, more content?
Hello, I'm Lindsey and I'm a scarce-aholic. I'm recovering (and still suffer from) the disease of scarcity. I worry I won't have enough or be enough. I'm trying to practice generosity these days, and it's really hard.
Being generous is the opposite of a scarce-aholic, I think. Living from a place of abundance, sharing what you have -- whatever that is -- listening, vulnerability, emotions, service, finances.
I hoped this image could capture a bit of my struggle. The line of circles extends over time, beginning at a certain size, remaining about the same until suddenly smaller, but almost immediately -- begins to grow again, and faster.
It feels scary to be generous, in whatever capacity you offer, like you'll be shrinking or uncomfortable or be stuck with less.
Sometimes that happens, but more often, I hear it grows instead. Growing in understanding, intimacy, healing, connection, safety, sustenance. More than enough to go around. The goal isn't more for yourself, but more for us.
D and I went for a walk today around our neighborhood lake, enjoying the truth of Spring having sprung. Blooms, warm breezes, neighbors fishing and playing basketball. My first mosquito bite of the season. Finally hanging my fern outside, since overnight temperatures will be pretty mild for the week. Winter is over.
I did an exercise from this book, about identity and branding -- for yourself. In 30 minutes, I wrote down my strengths and weaknesses, favorite color, what kind of work I like doing and would like to do in the future -- and then sketched a logo concept I thought embodied those things, using my soon-to-be initials, LMS:
The rectangle is a physical boundary, like for a business card or an above-the-fold webpage. The top-right area is available to put my full name, title, contact info.
No deep meaning to this one. A collection of forms that popped into my mind at the moment my pastel hit the newsprint. I plan to keep up this process of a bit less planning, a bit more freedom.
You need to try things before you know whether you like it.
You have to try things many, many times before you're good at it. You can't give up the first time you make something weird or things turn out differently, perhaps worse, than expected. Persistence.
Today, I am not a cartoonist. This robot guy got weird fast. I really didn't want to post it, but I did because sharing the weird, kind of embarrassing, stuff matters too.