Painting In Community: Courage Is Contagious

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage."

 - Anais Nin

 

Coming to the studio isn't just about painting. Because we paint in community, we are given the unique opportunity to move in a deeper way as we're gently nudged and inspired by the brave souls painting next to us. Lama Surya Das speaks of "sangha" as "community, common embrace, communion; it's a sanctuary, a safe place to let down our guard." (From his book Awakening to the Sacred: Creating a Personal Spiritual Life.) 

There is something reassuring about others showing up for themselves and creating along side us. Sometimes we arrive at the page feeling vulnerable. Simply by moving into that vulnerability with openness and color can urge another to explore a similar place in themselves. We're reminded of Marianne Williamson's quote from her book A Return to Love: "...As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

There are many opportunities to paint in sacred community this month. We hope you'll join us!

Sending you much love,

     Jen and Steph

The Promise Of Spring: Finding Hope In The Dark

“The deep roots never doubt spring will come.” 

― Marty Rubin

 

It's been a long, cold winter and--as we write this--more snow and another arctic blast are in the forecast. It's hard to believe that Spring is officially just around the corner when all we see is more Winter.

This reminds us of painting and how we are asked again and again to trust the process. We dive into the unknown, and sometimes find ourselves in dark and murky waters where nothing makes sense and the promise of more darkness is all we can see. Sticking with the discomfort and discovering where it leads is a "winter" of sorts.

Painting the tough stuff can also be like planting a garden. We plant seeds and tend to the soil that is sometimes fortified with manure. Our hands become dirty and our backs ache and yet we continue to plant our seeds because we know that what we can't see will grow. Eventually our labor and faith are rewarded when a tiny green bud pokes its head through the dirt to greet the sun. Painting asks us to trust that there is more growing just below the surface and that our process is as fluid and ever-changing as the seasons.

We have several opportunities to paint this month and look forward to seeing you in the studio!

Here's to creating a beautiful Spring!
Jen and Steph

The Path From Here to Happiness

We hear this all the time in the studio... a lamenting, a craving...

"... I just want my painting to be pretty! I want it to convey a sense of peace because that's what I'm working on manifesting in my life. I want to be normal. I don't want to feel this crap and paint the 'dark and ugly' stuff because that's not what I want to affirm it in my life." 

The friction comes from the fact that, perhaps in that moment, "peace" is not what's present. "Pretty" is not what wants to be painted. That's what we think and hope for, but the reality is that when we're given a paintbrush and a palette of color in a safe, supportive environment and and have total freedom without someone telling us how it's supposed to be, often what shows up after a while is...Our SHADOW! (insert scary music here)

That's right, all that stuff we've been repressing because it's not socially acceptable or spiritually aligned, all that stuff that's messy and shameful and hard to deal with, all that stuff that we were at one time conditioned to hide in order to please our parents or stay out of trouble at school or to "get into heaven"...all of THAT stuff begins to rise to the surface.

Why, you ask, does it rear it's ugly head now? I believe it's because in order to be whole, our psyches and souls need integration. It's part of the healing process and a necessary step in our evolution. When we slow down enough and quiet our minds enough and allow spaces for what wants happen...well, let the discovery begin!

Perhaps it's an unresolved childhood trauma, or anger we haven't expressed toward a boss or spouse, or some shame for not living up to the expectations of our parents, or maybe grief around the hatred of our own bodies over the years and all the things we've done to be seen and loved. Whatever it is, it wants to be seen. It's demanding it. It gets harder and harder to resist it. And we're terrified. Because we're afraid that if we let it in, it will stay. Linger forever and ever.

But this is where the paradox lies and the magic happens... Time and time again I see it--when we (perhaps reluctantly) allow ourselves to feel the feelings and explore it with paint... when we surrender and "put our head in the mouth of the demon" so to speak, asking it what is has to say or show us... inevitably, it transforms. The resistance softens and we find ourselves getting curious about what this monster looks like, and we are at the bravest spot--the most vulnerable and truthful and humble--as the emotions flow and the entire body and psyche are present to this overwhelming expression.

And then suddenly we realize after shining light on our darkest pieces and shifting our relationship to our shadowy selves, that a strange peacefulness has enveloped us. Where did that come from?!? Not a forced peace or a sugar-coated happiness, but the deep authentic joy and contentment that comes from being with what is, right as it is. You mean that peace was there waiting for me on the other side of that insurmountable experience? (Flash back to that children's Bear Hunt song... "Can't go over it, can't go under it, can't go around it, gotta go through it.")

In fact, resisting and holding down what we don't want to feel is what causes it to linger, but letting it pass through without attaching to it with elaborate stories and identification brings us to the joy on the other side.

I come from the spiritual self-help New Thought "woo-woo" traditions. I understand the reasons for "affirming the good", and the power of cognitive re-programming, and the desire to want to "pray it away." But at the same time my practice of Buddhist insight meditation has taught me the value in being present to what is, and developing a new way of relating to our experiences that involves compassion and equanimity without trying to change anything. We can't skip over the parts of ourselves we don't like and still be "whole."

This is where I think process painting is a perfect marriage of these two paths. It's the multi-colored thread that weaves together the where-we-want-to-be's and the where-we-are-right-now's. It's the excavation tool that uncovers the buried and forgotten parts, as well as the flashlight that shines compassion and curiosity on those parts, inviting them to join the banquet of belonging.

The tactile, messy quality of painting and moving with color in a pre-verbal, subconscious and intuitive way is a new (old) kind of medicine. It's an alchemical process on a whole-being level. It happens from within out. In fact, i'm going to go so far as to say that this "healing balm" of mindfulness and creative expression is exactly what is going to bring our troubled world into balance, because let's face it--a world plagued by war and poverty and hunger and inequality is also a reflection of those qualities within each one of us. When I shine light on my own shadow and do my own work, developing self-love and integration, I am at the same time taking a revolutionary step toward healing on a global scale. I am owning it and transforming it on a personal level, one moment at a time.

So what is the pathway from here to happiness? I may not see the entire route, but I know that I cannot bypass the present moment to get "there". The first step begins with this breath, with whatever is showing up. Right now. As it is. The good. The bad. The messy. Me.

Loving The Pieces Who Know Me By Heart

"The time will come when with great elation, you will greet yourself arriving, at your own door, in your own mirror, and each will smile at the other's welcome and say, sit here, Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart..."
—Derek Walcott,  "Love After Love"

As a young girl I can remember experimenting with this totally cool gadget called a "tape recorder". That's right, a device that could record sound on a tape with the touch of just a couple of buttons! I remember getting a little nervous and excited as I pressed the play and record buttons simultaneously. Clearing my throat, I said a few lines. What I said, I can't remember. What I can remember is how I felt when I heard my own voice. It sounded odd and disconnected and it felt bad to hear it. I was ashamed of my own voice  At that moment, I was absolutely certain that I had the ugliest voice in the world. Later that day I told my mom about it. She told me without hesitation that no one liked the sound of their own voice and that it was quite common to be turned off by the whole thing. I had not remembered this until I sat down today to write. What a perfect memory to have dancing through my head! It ties in beautifully with my journey of rediscovering my true voice and learning to value what She has to say. 

Learning to hear and like the sound of my own voice has been a long and interesting process that is far from over. For me it has much to do with weeding out the other voices installed in my head years and years ago. The voice of parent, teacher, peer and sibling all seemed to have free reign in there, while my voice remained quiet and unsure, tucked away in the back corner so she didn't take up too much room. My voice, was being a good girl.

I am beginning to hear her now. Years of painting have helped me. Also, belonging to a community of other people wanting to hear their own voice has helped. Discovering our own voice when we've been taught it's OK and expected not to like or trust it, can be a challenge. For me it starts with loving myself and making friends with the sides of  me I feel don't deserve love, inviting only the pieces of me that work and win to my "table of belonging" isn't enough. The key is to set a place for the parts I have deemed invisible and unworthy.Those discarded bits of myself are in great need of gentle compassion and a nourishing meal that only I can offer. 

Another memory emerges, of hearing my mother calling me home for dinner. The sun was starting to set and the air had a bite to it. Her voice weaved  it's way through our entire neighborhood and it was a welcoming sound. Finding my way home after a full day of  bike riding and creek dwelling felt like the best part of things.Once inside, the smell of food and the warmth of familiar voices was nourishing. I felt loved and that I belonged.

This is what I intend to give back to myself. This is how I will begin to encourage the lost pieces of my own  voice to come home for dinner.

Transformation: Dancing With The Sacred

"The journey between what you once were and who you are now becoming is where the dance of life really takes place."  —Barbara Deangelis

 

Last week in the studio someone mentioned that, for her, painting is like dancing. After a night of dancing you don't bring home anything tangible, but you feel different...you are transformed from the movement. Painting without the goal of a finished product is very much the same. Once we shake off the uncertainty of needing to look like anyone else, or needing to do it "right", we can close our eyes, feel the music and sway to a beat that pulsates just under our feet. We begin listening to what is uniquely ours. We metaphorically "dance" with paint when we meet our sacred inner partner and begin to move in a way known only to us. This is how we transform.

The month of January is a powerful time for transformation through new beginnings. We'd love to meet you where you are in your journey, and have a variety of painting opportunities for you including a daylong retreat "Purpose, Power & Passion for the New Year" with Wholeness Coach, Intuitive Change Agent and Unity Minister Diana Kennedy. We think you will love Diana and are super-excited to partner with her for this special offering! 

http://creativenectar.blogspot.com/p/purpose-power-passion-for-new-year.html
 

Wishing you joyous change & transformation this year,
Jen and Steph

Finding Home Within Ourselves

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”

― Edith Sitwell

It's almost December and as the days become short and the winds blow cold we are instinctively called to move inside. This time of year is perfect for deep self-reflection as we seem to be asked by those blowing winds and dark afternoons to come home to ourselves. We are called to light the fire within and take time to get to know ourselves by reconnecting to something we thought lost. We slow down and begin to listen to what we truly need - our own deep and magnificent love warming us from the inside.

At Nectar we celebrate this hibernation and create a safe space to explore and reconnect with paint and community. We are warmed by our own light as we show up for ourselves and each other. Together we create a place where we can arrive just as we are without a mask or a plan, a place where vulnerability and truth are things to be celebrated and encouraged - a place where we are truly seen.

The studio will be open every weekend this month, so if you need a break from the busy energy of the season or a warm place to connect with others during the holidays, we'd love to see you!

Wishing you peace this season,
Jen and Steph

Being Who You Are

Who am I? What is my true nature? Am I worthy of love?

This last month I attended two different retreats that invited me to step out of my normal modes of operation and delve deep within. The first was a process painting retreat with my mentor Sarah Oblinger and took place at a YMCA camp nestled in the Flint Hills of Kansas. The second was an insight meditation silent retreat with my dharma teacher Robert Brumet and took place in a clubhouse tucked away in nature at Unity Village, Missouri. While these two retreats were quite different in design--(one involved the colorful and soulful acts of painting, dancing, connecting, sharing food and stories, while the other utilized more solitary and inward practices of silent meditation)--they wove together for me a common theme: The courage and compassion to see and accept myself as I truly am. Both retreats I went into with a sense of identity (of "being someone doing something") and both I came out of feeling raw, vulnerable, fully alive, and completely connected with my heart.

Each retreat--each in its own way--taught mindfulness, or consciousness of what is. In order to have clear awareness, we must be willing to strip away the stories and see something as it truly is, not as we would like it to be. The myth of perfectionism has driven me for most of my life. Somehow at an early age I adopted the belief that "if I'm just good enough, I will be loved." Unfortunately, from that vantage point, enough is never enough.

I am very moved by the work of the "vulnerability guru", researcher and storyteller Brené Brown. In case you aren't one of the 12 million+ people who have viewed her wildly popular TED talk on The Power of Vulnerability or the more recent talk on Listening to Shame, I HIGHLY recommend watching them. She talks about shame as being the fear of disconnection ("Is there something about me that, if other people know it or see it, that I won't be worthy of connection?") She says you must be willing to let go of who you think you should be in order to be who you really are. A scary thing, and yet crucial for true living.

Who am I when I strip away the strategies? When I let go of the stories? I might have a sense of comfort and familiarity in my old-yet-outdated identity, but the truth of who I am so much bigger. So much deeper. So raw. So human. Imperfect, and yet completely deserving of love.

When we reject part of our essence, we might unknowingly be treating ourselves in a violent way, whether through our self-talk or in the way we relate to our bodies. And that's so easy to do--I mean, how many times through our popular culture do we subliminally receive the message that we are not okay as we are? Perfectionism is a trap. It's a distraction from what truly is. Practicing compassion for oneself becomes an act of courage in a world clouded by delusion.

Who am I really? I am enough.

Living In Gratitude: A Place Of Thanksgiving

"In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.” 

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

 

November is the unofficial start of the holidays, when we're greeted with colder weather, busier streets and fuller schedules. This month brings us the holiday for feasting and family and a grand opportunity to remember all that we have and rejoice by giving thanks. It's nice to wonder what would happen if we could take that feeling of gratitude and carry it with us throughout the rest of the year... It could be a life changing event.

What we are learning in the studio is that it's not always easy to be full of gratitude when our lives feel hard or lonely, and it doesn't do us a bit of good to pretend those feelings don't exist. Through painting, we realize we can feel that hard loneliness and find some curiosity for it. And by diving into what we are experiencing in the moment (even the yucky stuff) we discover a little space to breathe in some needed fresh air. Our gratitude can begin in that moment, a place of thanks giving.

We are offering many painting opportunities this month and we'd love to see you! Thank you so much for being part of our community!

Living Without Masks: Finding The Courage To Be Ourselves

“She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.”

― Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It

October brings us falling leaves, pumpkins and Halloween! All Hallow's Eve invites us for one night a year to wear a mask and playfully become something we are not. What many of us have found through process painting is that we are almost always wearing a mask of some kind—and not just on Halloween.

In the studio, we encourage curiosity and the courage to step into a new way of looking at things--taking off our mask to discover a truer self living within each breath and brush stroke. Even if it's just a few hours a week, we learn how it feels to inhabit that raw and vulnerable place. We paint to discover ourselves, and as we call on deep wisdom we are given an incredible gift: compassion for ourselves and others.

May this find you full of courage and wonder about what lives behind the mask!

Silencing Our Inner Critic

"If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint,'

 then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced."

- Vincent Van Gogh

 

Lately at the studio, we've been working with how to disengage the long-held beliefs that we "aren't good enough." Most of us have had this belief, and for many of us it steers our lives... sometimes without us knowing it. That feeling of not being okay can lead us to look outside ourselves for solutions. The truth is we hold all the answers inside.

How do we learn to trust ourselves again? Well, at Nectar we paint! We are creative beings and sometimes just the feel and motion of putting paint on paper helps us return to our center of truth. The inner critic might still come in, but instead of buying into what it's telling us, we can thank it for its' many years of service and politely tell it to get lost. We do this by saying "YES" to what wants to come into our painting, even if it doesn't make sense, the colors don't match or we think it will "ruin" it. When we say "yes" to ourselves, it is powerful experience and a beautiful thing to witness.

We would love the opportunity to paint with you this month and hold you all in a space of loving kindness.