Safe is nice, even when it smells like old meat, mildew or the dusty roads of Bujumbura, Burundi.

So, I am hear in Burlington, Vermont. Safe and sound...things went pretty well today. It's nice and helpful to learn that the airline website, the woman on the phone and the ticket counter all have completely different policies about baggage- how much you are allowed to have and how much it costs. I got by OK though, and ended up switching for the biggest exit row seat ever.

The plane from Newark to Burlington was interesting- I arrived late and sweating from running across the airport. Ran into the plane which was, oh, about 95 degrees and rising...it smelled like old meat, body fluids and a little like burning trash(which I fondly connect to walking down the dusty streets of central Africa). As we took off in our tiny, sweaty plane, the man next to me promptly ordered 3 vodkas for our 30 minute flight(which made for entertaining dialogue between he and his female companion-like shouting at her, "why are you talking to me if you cant talk loud enough for me to hear you?!" real nice.) and the plane vibrated so hard the whole way, my arm had lost feeling by the time we arrived in VT.
So happy to be here and looking forward to the room I had reserved that looked like this....



But ended up in a mildew smelling, soggy carpeted, bunk bed room in the basement with no windows.

That's all for now...hoping for a full nights sleep, cuddled safely in the bottom bunk.

My first box of supplies for the trip arrived today. it was full of sparkling brass and copper in different forms. Soon i will receive a few new tools as well as some silver in sheet and wire and shot. Each day I wake up with a list from the night before of things to organize, order, shred, pack...hoping to feel prepared for what is ahead of me- this next right of passage- hoping to feel good enough to hear what it is i am meant to be making and learning before i come home to life unfolding something new again. One thing I am fairly certain of is that I have a lot of tools in my possession. Not sure if they are the right ones of course.
Last time i made this trip i had a confidant and partner with me- i had a certain kind of (what seemed to be)unchanging structure to come home to. Looking back i can see that what i thought was sure is never sure- we choose every day what our lives will look like. And even now, i know that the clear eyes and absence of illusion is sweet and safe in its own way. I am still not comfortable with the reality of how alone we are even when we are together- at least i see that now as i recognize the truth of our individual responsibility to our own lives. I suppose part of what is about to happen is the reminder of what solitary physically feels like- and from there a better appreciation for the kindness and fullness that love is, when shared.
My comfort at the end of the day continues to be that i have faith and belief that
i love a loving God. That I will learn even as I fail. That I will not always have to fail- in order to learn.

a life rightly lived

Rebuild and rebuild and rebuild. Rebuilding finance and heart and friendship- here and there things fall apart a little- and I wake up and throw a brick or two on the newest layer of mortar - praying that my new and next house will be built on an unshakable landing, a knowing soul and heart, a faithful love. This time away comes as I close up a chapter of unbelief and choose to believe in love lasting and souls colliding. Sing it true, choose it wholly- re-learn the trust that a life rightly lived demands. I plan on loving a lot. I plan on being available and open to change and pain and growth in the ligaments of things. All this openness... as much as it hurts to stretch out and make room for a bulls eye a little left of center on my chest- it is a relief when finally there is no longer another choice.
When I was close to the end of my art school experience- one of my dearest mentors/instructors said to me, "I'm not worried about you. I don't wonder if you'll still be making art or doing it well in twenty years- you have to make art. You'll die without it."
That is how I feel tonight about LOVE as well. Re learning art and love. It's awfully sweet in here.
So, I choose to live.
And all the beauty and terrifying unknown that comes with the deep breaths that follow.

What is my "process" anyway?

A dear friend gave me the word "contained" tonight. It is the perfect word. Two weeks from today, I will be greeting my sweetheart who will be arriving essentially to send me off to Vermont. I have been having dreams full of anxiety around what it is- how it is I will use my time away....to really say something. I have spent a significant amount of time containing my emotions- which unfortunately I had come to equate with weakness, craziness, out of control. I have been containing my anger(less lately, thank god). I have been containing myself creatively, as I connected great progress in art with the demise of my marriage.
So, now, how to get UN-contained- set free- full of life and absent of fear?! Just keep going. I have learned in my years of exercising the creative process that when all is dead and boring in that regard- you better just make something.
so little by little, my brain is coming back to life. I find myself wishing i had one of those tiny tape recorders everywhere i am as words or phrases or materials file their way into my thoughts. This space will be where I make time to update you, my friends and family on this particular adventure back to a life of art-making. Thanks for loving me.