The life of a warrior

I've been called a warrior a few times, but never really embraced it as my truth until recently. When I think of the hardship, challenges, the struggles of my life, and all that I have endured in my 45 years on this earth, I am definitely a warrior. According to my google search, a warrior is defined as "a brave or experienced fighter" and when I think about all the battles I have had to fight over the years, I realize I am a warrior. Truth is, many of us are. I am not alone in facing adversity, challenges, hardship, and life battles. When I connect with people and share some of my stories, an exchange occurs, and it's through that connection of shared experience, I have found we are not alone. I have listened to countless people with similar stories of hardship and life challenging experiences and with each encounter, I find there is a lesson, strength, and something to gain from each experience giving rise to newfound growth. Listening to another person's challenges and the strength they found to endure gives us insight and at times direction for our own path. To embody the warrior we must be brave and fight, but we also need to listen. Over the years I have found it validating and liberating to listen to another person's journey and by listening I found the answers I was seeking and the solidarity of support my heart craved. Each experience and challenge has molded me into who I am now and I know at any time my form can be melted down and the process of rebuilding can begin again. To some that may generate fear, don't get me wrong it generates fear in me as well, but it also creates excitement because the rebuild allows us to rewrite our story, and create the path we choose. 

My heart outside of my body
I love the laughter we share and these two...
more than words can adequately express. ♥
Mother's Day 2020

This morning I was reflecting on the struggles of parenthood and how hard it is to be a mother. I love being a mother and feel like I was born to be one, but my God it's the hardest job I've ever had. When people ask me about raising teens today, my mind and heart can easily drift to the highs and the lows. Everyone assumes raising a girl is harder but raising my son has definitely been much more difficult. Not because he's a difficult kid, but because I had to work at finding a way in. And let me be clear, I still have to work hard at it. In many ways, I work harder at finding a way in now that he's entered life as a college student than when I did when he was a child. As a child, he allowed himself to be more vulnerable and showed more sensitivity. He received love and help readily which was easier for me since I'm sensitive, loving, compassionate, and very affectionate. Around the teenage years, he shifted and became more withdrawn. Part of it was the normal stages of development and him finding his way independently, but I'm sure part of it was also from the hurts of life and as a result, he became self-protecting and reserved. He's quiet, very private, contemplative, and STUBBORN. Did I tell you he was stubborn? Even if he needs help he will resist asking because in his mind he thinks he has to do it by himself. I'm not sure where he came up with this limiting belief, and maybe somewhere without realizing the weight of my words I said something to him that caused him to develop this belief. Like I said parenthood is hard. Unfortunately, we can't insulate our children from our shortcomings or mistakes. There are definitely times when I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and correct things. The ability to look into a crystal ball would be so nice, so I could see where I made the mistake. But I can't do either, and the only alternative I have is to keep trying and do the best I can. I joke that he's been difficult since the moment he was conceived, but the truth is he really wasn't difficult, I just had to work harder. He's a really great young man. I couldn't ask for a better son. He's one of my favorite humans and one of the best people my soul has connected with during this life. My daughter on the other hand... yes, she's a teenager and by most accounts, people say teenage girls are hard, but she's easy peasy. We are very similar so it's easy to connect with her and I'm not left wondering about her life. She shares and communicates what is going on in her life so it's easy to be on the sideline watching her and allowing her to grow independently. Unfortunately, that's my biggest obstacle with my son... not knowing and his lack of communication. Either way, motherhood is hard, parenthood is hard. Even having a daughter that communicates regularly and allows me into her world it's still hard. She has gone through her own set of challenges and the world has been cruel to her kind, sweet, sensitive heart. That has been one of the most challenging things to endure in mothering her. The world is harsh and the challenges great, and part of being a good parent/mother is allowing your children to grow and find their way when all you want to do is insulate, protect, and shield them. I'm grateful for both of these incredible humans and the lessons they teach me. I'm grateful for the honor to be their mother. They are the same and yet, so very different. The truth is, I'll always be their mother. And I'll always do my best to protect and support them as they grow and expand, and during the times of complacency and stagnation. I will be a life warrior for them...always.

My mom's birthday 2015

I originally wrote the first paragraph of this blog post on 10/10/19 with the intent of commemorating the life of my beautiful mother. You see her birthday is the 11th of October and I wanted to celebrate her wonderful life as a fierce and strong warrior of life. I also wanted to celebrate my deep love and respect for her. I was trying to process the reality that she was fading from this world and it was quite possibly the last birthday I would be celebrating with her. As I changed my age in the above paragraph my heart sunk. I've missed her terribly this year and yet, because of the world's COVID-19 pandemic, national health crisis, social injustice, environmental crisis, and the intense election distractions, my grief has been abated. I know it's bubbling under the surface and when I feel her rise, I honor her. I sit and feel it allowing the release and the feelings to wash over me knowing this is important to my healing and part of my self-care. Grief is a tricky thing and although the world moves on, our hearts are in a place that takes a tremendous amount of time to heal. It requires grace and patience with ourselves and shutting out the noise and judgment of the world. Most people can't handle the intense feelings of grief so they want the people surrounding them to move on from it too. I learned that life lesson many years ago, so I honor grief and the importance of healing, and ignore the noise.

My mom and I
11/22/18

I wonder how my mother felt about motherhood. Did she feel the same as I do? Did she feel differently? Did she feel it was hard to parent me or easy? What do I know when it comes to my mom and motherhood? I know she LOVED being a mother. I know she was born to do it and she made the decision pretty early on to change her own story and be a better mother than her own. I know that she took the job seriously and come hell or high water she supported my brother and I NO MATTER WHAT. I'm sure there were times she cried herself to sleep and she wondered if she did a good job. Those are the thoughts and questions every good mother asks herself. On some level, I know I was a pretty easy child. I did what was expected of me although I did normal teenage mischief. She always knew I would do the right thing... most of the time, and that I would use my people skills and good judgment to keep me moving forward. The most difficult period for her was after I turned 16 and I was a little out of control. WILD. But she had a wisdom that she relied on and she was a fierce warrior... you just didn't mess with her. She knew exactly what to do and shipped my ass to California to stay with a friend for a month. She knew I needed some time to calm down and find my way. MOTHER WARRIOR WISDOM. After that, I did the normal teenage stuff but I was more grounded and definitely analyzed the outcome and risks before engaging. She knew what she was doing. If she was here to tell you herself, she would probably say her biggest complaint was I was mouthy... talking back and I don't know how many times she said... "Why do you always have to have the last word? SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" It annoyed the crap out of me, but she was right. I was mouthy and didn't listen at times resulting in my own struggles and hers as a mother. My brother on the other hand... well, he was a difficult one. Firey, fierce, stubborn, and a huge risk-taker. He said screw it most days, alright if you knew Jon he didn't say screw it, he used other choice words. He took his chances and dealt with the consequences of his actions and behaviors afterward. He was in it for the ride and experience which is a nightmare for a mother. A nightmare for my mother. As his sister, I admired all these attributes about him although it scared the shit out of me. I knew in my heart that eventually, this lifestyle would catch up to him, and unfortunately, it did. This was the greatest burden my mother had to bear in this life... the loss of her son. I can't imagine the pain and won't allow my mind to take me there. I don't know that I would be as strong as her. I think that would officially break me.

Nature's love. Hearts everywhere
Taken Spring 2020 
♥ Redbud leaf ♥

So, what is the life of a warrior? Who is a warrior? As I stated in the first paragraph, "a brave or an experienced fighter." Yes, that was my mother. She came into this world fighting and she left this world fighting. She loved deeply and yet kept her heart at bay. She struggled to find balance in her life and yet despite struggling to find her own balance, she could give you the greatest advice to find yours. She was wise beyond her years and smarter than she thought she was. When I think about all the struggles she had to endure in her life, I'm astounded by her strength. She really was and is the strongest person I have ever met. I learned from the best and she absolutely showed me how to live as a warrior and how to be a good mother. I may not be the best mother, but I always do my best, which makes me a pretty damn good mother. And when it comes to being a warrior... well, I always stand back up, dust myself off, look for the positive, and the lesson I'm supposed to learn, and keep moving forward. And that makes me a pretty damn good warrior. I'll keep fighting and honoring her the best I can... by living life to the fullest, growing, and learning to be better today than I was yesterday.

A big fat stinking mess, yet beautiful. Welcome to life.

A panel of my "Letting Go Lantern"
© 2017 Toni Becker,
 Whimsical Jewels, Artfully Healing

I'm drowning.  Drowning in the messy happenings of life.  The waves are crashing, beating against my being stealing my breath.  My heart beats faster.  My breath escaping me.  Try as I might I just can't catch my breath.  I'm trying to stay afloat... my legs kick faster, even though I can feel this sinking feeling.  I fight.  I breathe.  I kick harder.  But there's a heavy weight pulling me down.  I feel like I'm drowning.  Right now, that's how my grief feels.

For many weeks now I have fought kicking and screaming with so many people I'm exhausted.  I've felt unheard, thinking am I not being clear?  After such in depth conversations and clear examples, I'm left wondering how my words could have fallen so hard on deaf ears.  The result is a suffocation I can't describe.  All the while people on the sidelines are telling me to scream louder, advocate harder, do this do that...  I've done all I can do.  I've done the best I could do.  And yet, I don't feel like it's remotely over or nearly enough.  And I'm wondering how much I have left to give and if I have the strength to keep fighting.  I'm tired.  No, I'm exhausted.  I'm to the point now I can barely put words together to form a coherent sentence.  Sitting here typing this is taking everything I have, but I know at the end I'll feel better so I keep stroking the keys.  Not giving a shit what it sounds like, or if it makes any sense.  The blog is artfully healing... and this is part of my healing and the art form I'm using in this moment to soothe my tired mind, bleeding heart, and exhausted frame. 

A panel of my "Letting Go Lantern"
© 2017 Toni Becker,
 Whimsical Jewels, Artfully Healing

The same waves that are crashing against my frail frame causing me to feel the tremendous burden of grief, are also in the same way healing and transforming me.  It's a big fat stinking mess and yet so beautiful.  It's here in this moment with the weight of everything I know that when it's all said and done, I will be better for it.  It's just so hard to see it when I feel like I'm drowning and trying to keep my head above the water.

I wrote the above passage on 7/16/18, but never published it.  I'm not sure why I left it as a draft, but I did.   And now as I read the above words, I realize it feels complete and incomplete simultaneously.  Now three months later my words are still relevant to my daily life, but the anticipatory grief that I feel is heavier and more of a reality.  At the time of writing the passage my mom was at a rehab center getting ready for discharge.  She had been under hospital type care for a month... a week in the ICU, a week on a regular floor, and then discharged to a rehab facility where she spent two and a half weeks.  I battled with all of them, advocating for her care making sure she was taken care of and receiving the care she deserved.  Ultimately she was discharged before she was ready due to insurance, and my choices were limited so I brought her home with us.  The fighting and advocating didn't stop, but thankfully it hasn't been as intense.  Now with hospice coming into our home, I find myself breathing a little easier regarding her care.  The care she's receiving right now is exactly what she needs and quite frankly what everyone needs to receive throughout their life span, not just at the end of life.

My beautiful Mom on her birthday
10/11/18

Today the grief is heavy.  I know my days with her are numbered, and everything else that goes on in one's daily life seems unnecessary and quite frankly a waste of my time.  I find myself thinking about all the stuff we waste our energy on that serves no purpose and lacks meaning.  I feel my mind drifting, wishing I had the means to be with her around the clock for this last journey.  I'm mad because I can't be.  I'm sad that it's happening.  This morning, I awoke at 3 am with a heaviness in my chest and a wave of sadness that stole my breath.  These last few days as I've watched my mom, in her own way she has told me to back up.  "Toni, you worry too much."  In my mind, I reply I know but I only have one mom and she's dying.  I feel her energy and things start melting away.  It's here that I look at her.  I see her clearly.  I realize some of her behavior is fear, sadness and her own grief.  I'm sure she doesn't want this to be the end either.  She  feels the same as us... She wants to stay as long as she can and we want her to be here for as long as her spirit allows.  Her light is magnificently beautiful and I realize how blessed I have been to have had such an incredible woman as a mother.  My heart is heavy.  The thought of moving forward without her steals my breath and makes my chest feel like an elephant is sitting on me.  This is grief.  This is sadness.  This is a big fat stinking mess, yet oh so beautiful.  Welcome to life.....  and death.  A full circle.

My handmade birthday gifts for my mom
Handmade Journal & Canvas Necklace
© 2018 Toni Becker; Whimsical Jewels & Artfully Healing

Late night writings

"Changing" Acrylic painting,
© 2018 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

Inspiration.  Do you ever notice when yours comes?  Do you pay attention to this quiet voice that gives us big ideas or do you ignore it because the timing is inconvenient?  For me the answers are yes, yes, and yes.  I have found that the voice of inspiration comes when I least expect it... in the shower, walking in the woods, in the middle of the night, when I'm driving down the road, observing other artist's work, looking at the wonders of nature, observing bright, bold colors, listening to music, and sometimes in the middle of a conversation.  Lately my ideas and inspiration have come during the night.  I'll awake from a sound sleep and have all of these ideas in my head.  I then feel this sense of urgency to hurry and write them down.  I have been known to ignore them, because it's the middle of the night and well... I'm sleeping and I'm tired.  I've learned though, that most of the time when you ignore that little voice, the inspiration goes away and doesn't return until the next big idea.  Try as I might, I can never conjure up the inspiration or feelings that were invoked at the time inspiration spoke to me.

Lately my inspiration has been coupled with my emotional content and what I'm processing internally.  Time weighs heavy on my heart and on my mind.  When your staring Father Time in the face wondering when the clock will stop ticking, it definitely raises all kinds of uncertainty and a level of emotions I can't place into words.  That's my current story right now.  It's not an easy story to tell, because right now there is a vulnerability that comes with an authentic raw emotion that cuts to my core, leaving my heart aching and a sickness in my belly.  I have wrestled with myself internally and went back and forth about sharing my feelings.  I feel very vulnerable and emotionally raw.  That's my truth and my story.  The wrestling is over.  I've decided to share it because it's healing for me.  A couple weeks ago, in the middle of the night, inspiration called and I had no choice but to listen.  This time it was about my dear momma.

I've been called to write about her a few times over the years.  She's a very influential part of who I am as a woman and as a mother.  In December, I was awakened from a very powerful dream, with the same sense of urgency to record my thoughts and feelings.  I still carry my dream message with me, because I lovingly talked with my mother the day after the dream.  December was a really stressful month.  At the beginning of the month, my dear mother was hospitalized for several days, on 12/13 we experienced the anniversary of 9 years without my brother Jon, and on 12/15 my husband said goodbye to his brother.  It was a really tough month in our family.  My dream came the night before my brother's anniversary and it was so powerful.  In my dream, my soul openly spoke to my mother with a pure love I've never experienced before.  I have grieved the loss of my brother, HARD, for the first few years after he died and thankfully now when the anniversary of his death arrives, it's an honored space more than a sad, grief space.  I take the time to honor his life and what he meant to me while he was here.  For my mother, it's a lot different.  I don't pretend to know what she goes through as a mother losing her son, and when I think about it, the feelings almost break me.  In the dream, I shared that pain with her, and in that moment I could feel the tremendous pain of her heavy loss and it was unimaginable.  During that moment of love, we sat and openly talked with one another sharing our love for one another.  When I awoke from the dream I was crying.  I felt the need to write it down, and realized I had a few things I needed to say to my dear mom.  Instead of popping out of bed to quickly write it down, I trusted myself to remember what I needed to say to her.  For some reason, I didn't fear losing it, quite possibly because it was so powerful and the emotions I felt were quite deep.

Over the years, I have spoken with individuals who have lost a sibling and I've read books on grief and this particular loss.  In my own research and in the pages I read, a lot of siblings shared they felt neglected by their parents after their sibling died.  When holidays would come, they expressed the same type of experiences...  Instead of celebrating life and a joyous time of togetherness during the holiday/birthday/etc, the parents focused on the death of their child and that they weren't there to celebrate with them.  For a lot of children who have lost a sibling, there can be a sense of survivor's guilt with irrational thoughts and feelings that come as a result of this tremendous loss.  Thankfully, I have NEVER had to experience those feelings.  I absolutely went through survivor's guilt, but it was part of my grieving process, not because my mother, or father for that matter, caused the feelings.  In my dream, I felt my mother's broken heart and her feelings of loss.  Her heart was whole and full of love prior to Jon's death, and after this tremendous loss she felt incomplete, broken, and her heart was missing the other half.

In my dream, the purity and power of her love was clearly communicated to me.  Her soul spoke so lovingly to mine, sharing that Jon and I were the true loves of her life, and with him gone, her heart felt incomplete.  As I share this, I can feel her pain and her love simultaneously.  It immediately brings me to tears and makes my heart ache.  My soul so beautifully expressed my understanding, and how loved I felt by her despite her burden of grief.  In my dream I thanked her for her love and for always making me feel wanted, despite missing the other part of her heart.  This dream was such a gift to my heart, healing in its own way.  The next day, (my brother's anniversary) I called and thanked her for her gift of unconditional love, for allowing me to be the love of her life, and for always loving me just as I am, nothing more or less.  We cried together and expressed our love for one another.  That moment, in dream and in our phone conversation, will be something I will hold in my heart forever.

A couple weeks ago, after being asleep for a little while, I was suddenly wide awake.  During the day, I had some pretty terrible news about my mother's health and I was processing everything before drifting off to sleep.  When I awoke, I was really groggy and quite tired.  Emotionally I was spent.  I really wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, pushing my ideas and thoughts to the side, forgetting that I had been woken by the voice of inspiration.  I can't lie, I contemplated it for a few minutes, and then told her to go away that I was tired, and I really didn't want to deal with the emotional content of her inspiration.  Somewhere deep inside me there was this voice... "If you don't go write it down and write it out, you will regret it."  Then like a flood, these ideas, thoughts, feelings, and MEMORIES had come to me in that moment and quite frankly, I didn't want to forget them.  Begrudgingly I got up.  I went to my studio, and started writing in my journal.  For 2 hours, I wrote.  I remembered things, I hadn't remembered and saw things from a different set of lenses.  A new pair of glasses.  My heart hurt and my body shook from my sobs, but there I sat writing until I couldn't write anymore.  When I finished writing and my tears stopped flowing, I felt so much better.  I saw things differently.  I also had this sense of "Knowing" that wasn't there before.

I have a Rumi journal that has his beautiful quotes on each page.  In the silent hours of the night, I scribbled on the pages of my journal about love, beauty, and childhood.  I wrote about motherhood and the blessings of love that I have received.  Perfectly aligned with my late night writings were these 4 Rumi quotes: "Love is a cloud that scatters pearls."  "God created your wings not to be dormant.  As long as you are alive you must try more and more to use your wings to show you're alive."  "Thankfulness brings you to the place where the Beloved lives."  "You think because you understand "one" you must also understand "two," because one and one make two.  But you must also understand "and."   Each quote, magically aligned for a deeper knowing and sense of gratitude that I had listened to the voice inside me, calling to scribble on my pages.

"Blue", Mixed Media Nature Mandala
© 2017 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

My momma...  What best describes this woman I call Mother?  Is it grace or beauty?  Is it pure love and loyalty?  Is it strength and fire?  Is it tenderness?  Is it thoughtful and kind?  Is it protective and fierce?  I'd say all of these are perfect descriptions of the woman I have the honor to call mom.  A few months ago, if you had asked me what my greatest loss in life had been, I would have told you, hands down, my brother.  Now staring at the possibility of losing my mother, without really knowing when, and on a much more rapid time table, I can easily say... her.  She will be my greatest loss.  I haven't even felt her loss yet and I can say without a doubt this will be my greatest loss.  She is my beginning.  The roots in my tree.  And what do you do when your tree has been uprooted?

42 years ago, I was a little "seedling" in the tree of life called my mother, or as I like to call her... mommy or momma.  She has lovingly guided me throughout my life and really placed a solid foundation for me as a woman.  Any words I use, will be inadequate for describing my gratitude and love for this dear woman.  She is pure love and embodies it in her core.  My descriptive words of love barely scratch the surface of who she is and my love for her.  From the time, she knew she was pregnant with me, she loved me.  She did what she could to protect me, and cared for me with a love so deep I can feel it in my core.  Throughout childhood into adulthood, she has been a fierce lioness protecting me, her cub.  She has been a strong and fierce, a force to be reckoned with.  God help you, if you did anything to hurt Jon or I.  These days, it is I that protects her.  And quite honestly, my actions pale in comparison to hers.  Her love has always been flawless and gentle, unconditional and forgiving.  She was a good teacher of love, friendship, and how to be a good mother.  Her teachings showed me taught me to stand on my own feet as a woman.  She made sure to give me the tools I would need to be successful in this life.  I could go on and on... but you get my point.

So now here I am, looking at my time with this incredible woman.  Life is short, and her time is being
shortened by cancer.  It makes me feel all the feels.  Some would ask for healing and would beg Father time for more time, but that's not where I am in my journey.  I accept that this is where I am and where she is.  I surrender to this process, knowing I can't control it.  The only thing I can do is love her fiercely and support her decisions as she rides the last wave.  I have appreciated every second I have had with her.  She has loved me with a depth I am inadequate in describing and even father time can't take that from me because love is eternally infinite.

"Acceptance" Acrylic painting
© 2016 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

I had no choice but to bloom

  Okay, I had a choice.  Each of us have a choice, but there was something inside of me that said...  It's time to bloom.  You have to.  You CAN.  This is the only choice.  Do you know what I'm talking about?  You know that moment when we have a choice to show up or shrink,  run or stay, be big or stay small, shine or hide?  It was scary and I wanted to run but my feet planted into the ground with a stance that said, "You got this!"  My ego was violently shaking its ugly head no but my soul was screaming yes...  "you are loved, you are supported, and it's time to shine."  So...  I had no choice but to bloom because it was my time to shine, to step into the light, and bloom.

Let me back up.  2014 went out with a bang.  The unraveling began in September 2014 and it seemed to only get worse as the months went on.  My employment was in jeopardy.  I'm a single mom who is self-employed, so as you can imagine, this caused an initial panic inside me that I can't describe.  I had to remind myself several times that I am supported and loved by the universe.  Again my ego went into overdrive raising the red flags of self-doubt, fear, and anxiety but all the while my soul calmly waited for me to get centered and to trust that there was a plan in place bigger than me.  There are a few things that I am VERY passionate about, my work as a life skills coach is one of them.  I know that I won't do this work forever, but right now I am where I am supposed to be and I love the work.  And I'm really good at it.  So as I waited to hear whether I could still be a self-employed mom, who is available to her children, another bomb dropped....

My step-father died.  Hello October.  Thanks for your warm welcome.  Glenn had been a part of my life since I was a small child.  My parents divorced when I was five and my mom married him when I was seven, so yes he was a large part of my life.  It wasn't always love, sunshine, and rainbows though.  Maybe I'll leave that for another post, but what I will say is this...  it took me a LONG time to love him and he patiently waited.  He loved me dearly and I'm grateful that he waited for my love because the feeling was mutual.  Death is so hard...  it's a reminder to love madly, live in the moment, and hug the ones you love everyday because tomorrow may never come.  While still grieving this huge loss another bomb dropped...

"Toni, I have cancer."  What?  Really?  Are you sure mom?  I hadn't even made it through October when this enormous bomb dropped.  Is this really happening?  November and December were a little bit of a blur...  mom had surgery, was in and out of the hospital a few times before the year ended, thanksgiving, Christmas, grief and loss.  It was a hurricane and I was being swept up in its fierce winds.

I wanted the year to end and I welcomed the new year with open arms hoping for something better.  For the time being I was still able to do the work I loved and feel passionate about, so that was a plus.  Then I received an email from my BFF, Karin, on January 18th.  A little over a year ago now.....  wow time flies!  The subject line read:  "It's your lucky day, my dear!! xo"  When I clicked on the email I had NO idea what was in store for me or how drastically my life would change in the upcoming year.  Karin had entered my name into a drawing to win a free on-line intuitive painting course with Flora Bowley.  I had no idea who she was as an artist and I had no idea the journey I was about to embark on.

Initially, even though I was really excited that I had won something, my body and mind became riddled with fear and self-doubt.  I can count on one hand the times I had won something.  So my thoughts were, "seriously, I had won?  Karin are you sure?  Go back and check..."  Then came the thoughts, "Are you sure you can do this?  What happens if I'm not any good?"  But yes, I really had won and it was right before my 40th birthday.  My soul sister and loving friend, provided me with gentle encouragement and love to give me the boost I needed, all the while stating that I deserved it.  She reminded me that I am supported and loved by the universe and that this would be good for my soul and my art.  To assist my journey and celebrate my 40 years on this planet, Karin made sure I was set with the supplies I would need for the course, and sent me on my way to embark on this transformative journey.  So now it was up to me...  choose to bloom or choose to stay a seed.  Choose to shine or choose to hide my light.

This five week course started at the end of January and even though it ran for five weeks, I had access to it on line for six months from the time the course concluded.  Sweet!  This was perfect for me especially since my life was in upheaval at the time of winning this beautiful gem.  And to be honest, it took me a little while to wrap my head around the fact that I had won this, whether or not I was capable of doing it, and whether or not I deserved it.  Yes, I said it...  did I really deserve something so wonderful?  It took me a little while to answer these questions and when I did...  the magic happened.  I went on the site, read, re-read, and then started doing small things to get myself prepared to start and to push away my so called friends, fear and self-doubt.  All the while I was still dealing with a very sick and grieving mother, who was in and out of the hospital numerous times until the middle of March 2015.  In April, mom started to heal physically, emotionally, and spiritually which also assisted me with my own healing.  In mid May, I received an email stating everything would remain as it had been with my self-employment, so I was no longer sitting in limbo regarding my job status waiting for another bomb to drop.  I could breathe a little easier and worry a little less.  So it was time to start to show up for myself.  No excuses.

If you are like me and have never heard of Flora Bowley or her art, please for the love of God go check her out....  only after you finish reading this blog post of course!  Her art is amazing, her gentle and loving spirit so inviting, and her approach to art refreshing.  It was EXACTLY what I needed to transform and bloom.  Ironically, the 5 week course is called Bloom True.  Great, how appropriate.

I have struggled with the words, "I am an artist" for as long as I have been creating.  I was never really able to own the words and it definitely affected my creative life.  It wasn't until the conclusion of the online painting course, that I realized how much it affected my creative life.  Thankfully, despite the lack of owning these words, I still showed up and created.  My soul in many ways overpowered my ego, something I am grateful for.

Other than the gift of being a mother to my beautiful children, the painting class with Flora was by far the best gift I have ever been given.  There was a shift that occurred in my being while taking this online painting course that I find difficult to put into words.  The light and guidance that Flora emitted was hard to hide from and made me want to rise and shine.  My small seed opened accepting the light she radiated and the inner growth I experienced was magical and deep.  I allowed myself to grow, transform, and shine instead of staying small.  At times it was so hard to stand in front of my canvas and allow the magic to happen but I'm so glad that I did.  I'm glad that despite my fear I showed up for myself each day and allowed the light to enter, causing this great shift inside of my being.  When I let go of all the negative words that held my soul captive and really believed in myself as an artist, it was there that my voice emerged.  This voice was so beautiful and the art that has come as a result leaves me standing in awe.  Sometimes I stand in disbelief of what I have just created, asking myself, "Is this really mine?".  Yes, Toni, it is and it is beautiful.

I have had a few difficult years and last year was certainly one of them, but this painting class transformed my life and I will never be the same.  And neither will my art.  It provided a safe haven for me to grow and heal.  It helped my creative vision and assisted with finding the courage to show up each day for myself creatively.  I see the world through a different lens now, everything is a little different and the world a little brighter as a result.  Although the painting class was 5 weeks online, it took me the entire time I had access to it online, to get through the lessons.  The painting that I did during the course took  almost a year to finish.

The painting below I completed after the painting course ended and I was still working on my painting from the class itself.  I started this painting for an art show I was participating in and the night I finished it was magical.  I stood in front of the painting with tears in my eyes, a fire in my belly, love in my heart, and a disbelief that this was mine.  I created it.  ME.  And it was beautiful.  I had let go of the fear and self-doubt that had muffled my voice and instead chose to rise allowing my seed to be cracked open and my voice to emerge triumphantly.  My voice sang a creative music I longed to hear and I owned every bit of the sentence, "I AM AN ARTIST."

I chose to bloom and I'm so glad that I did.

 

***Stay tuned for my post about the class and the picture of my completed canvas....







All of the photos used in this blog post were taken by me in the Spring/Summer 2008

Celebration of Life

Today I celebrate you.  I think of the time we had together, our conversations, the memories, and all the beautiful characteristics that made you,.... You.  I wish I could call you, hear your voice, and then sing or belt out the worst tune of happy birthday to you, but today singing into the energy of this world will have to do.  

Wow...  38 years.  What would you have been like now?  Would you be different?  Would be you the same?  Would you be a better version of who you were?  I like to think so.  I imagine you would be more settled in life, grounded in the man you were becoming.  I imagine you would still love with a strength and depth few will ever be able to reach.  I imagine you would hold those close to you, that have captured your heart.  I imagine you with the largest grin on your face, trying to make those around you smile too.  I imagine you still having a fierce loyalty to friends.  I imagine a lot of things about you, who you were then and who you were becoming.  When I think of all of this, it makes me miss you.  Miss that I won't have the opportunity to see what you would become or how your life would evolve and transform on this physical plane.  But I do see you, it's just a different view than in a physical form.  You are more radiant than what you were, a beauty that isn't defined by the shape of a body.  And that makes my heart beam and shine with an amazing love for you.







You, my brother, are missed and loved more than words can express in this short blurb.  When I think of the incredible life you had, in the short 31 years you were with us, I stand amazed.  The purity of your soul was beyond most.  The fire and zest you carried for the adventure of each day was inspiring.  The loyalty you had for those you loved was breathtaking.  Your valor made me beam with pride.  The way you looked out, for those you loved, made my heart fill with joy.  There's only one you and I'm glad I can say you were my brother, my friend, and my family.

happy birthday, Jon.  I love you.

Extended Family L♥vE

The Beautiful Rodriguez Family, minus their two boys

April 2015

Our Family, Easter tradition

April 2015

I have been blessed in my life to have dear friends who have become my family.  The Rodriguez family is now part of my extended family.  I could never say enough about this amazing family who really make each day better knowing and loving them.  I've not only gained a wonderful friend in Linda but another sister who I love so much.  Ruben has become a brother to me and someone I have grown to love as such.  An added bonus in this relationship is our daughters have become best friends and sisters too.  I love the relationships that all of us share and the family traditions we have together.  I'm forever grateful for the bond we share and that fate brought us together by placing us next to each other as neighbors.

These guys are celebrating 19 years together today, which is no small feat.  It takes hard work to keep a marriage together and to nurture a strong bond each day.  They have had many challenges, personally and as a couple, and with each one they have faced it together, with love and strength.

They are amazing and I wish them many more years together!!  I love you guys and wish you all the best as you travel together in this life.