The Childlike Empress

Because of this nurturing creativity venture I've undertaken, I get to hear things from people that no one else hears. I ask people, "What are you creative dreams? If money, schooling and talent were no object, in a completely ideal world, what would you do?" The answers I get to these questions are always striking.

I get to hear the secrets in your heart. I get to hear your hopes and your dreams that may have been squelched along your life path. I get to hear those small, fragile, glimmering bits of life that have, sometimes, been kept quiet for years. I get to hold them in my hands and feel their faint heartbeats against my palms.

I feel like the Childlike Empress from the movie The Neverending Story. I am passing to you the twinkling bit of hope that you need to make all your dreams come true. In turn, you entrust me with the safekeeping of the world that dreams are made of. I get to lean in close, admire your precious wishes and whisper to them, "Grow!"

And, I'd like to tell you something that may surprise you. I have never, not once, heard a dream from someone that I would say was dumb, silly, frivolous, or not worth pursuing. Can you believe that? Not one!

It takes lots of courage to dream in this world that seems like it tries to knock us down at every turn. It takes a lot of guts, sometimes, to even say our delicate desires out loud. I feel so privileged and honored to be trusted with the knowledge of these cherished little bits of your soul.

Doing anything new and creative is, in itself, revolutionary. It means that you've dared to challenge any number of things set in front of and expected of you. You're challenging your station in society, what other people want for you, what people might think of you, your current job, even your view of yourself.

As I go about my daily life, I get to hear colorful little sparks of hope. The other day, I was in a large department store looking at muffin tins and it just so happened that a stranger struck up a conversation with me. This happens to me a lot, so I don't mind. It started with him asking me where he could find a good pizza stone and it ended with me giving him my card. Do you want to know what his dream was? It was to open a "gourmet" soup kitchen, based on the principle that healthy eating enriches our lives. He would serve fresh veggies and fruits, no over-processed things. All based on the idea that good, nutritious fuel put in us enriches our lives in ways that chemicals can't. Isn't that an amazing idea?

Another gentleman who sold televisions for a living told me a couple of weeks ago about wanting to open a doughnut truck that sold various and novelty kinds of doughnuts. Doughnuts with interesting and striking ingredients. He'd cater to both the last call and before work crowd, working at night instead of during the day.

Don't both of these ideas sound awesome? Don't they sound enriching to the world and worth pursuing? I certainly think so. I know I'd patronize a nifty doughnut truck. Wouldn't you? Sure you would! It sounds like a nifty thing to try. And, as for serving whole, raw, unprocessed and nutritious foods to those down on their luck? I don't think I've ever heard an idea more worthwhile and noble.

And these are only two of the dreams that have been told to me over the past month!

My best girl friend's dream was to have a baby. Again, such a wonderful dream. I'm happy to say that she's due on Valentine's Day and that I have been invited to witness the birth of her daughter. I've never seen a woman giving birth, so I think I'm just as excited about February as she is. Not to mention the fact that our daughters will only be a year apart and they can grow up, together.

There are so many wonderful ideas that rest in your hearts, out there. I want to encourage you to chase after each and every one. I want your lives to overflow with possibility and joy. If only half of these ideas that we carry inside us can be made manifest in this world, just think about how much greater the world will be for having them!

I'd like to invite you to tell me your dreams. Leave a comment or email me at brifloorwilson@gmail.com, if you're more comfortable with that. I try to reply to everything and I can't wait to hear from you!


Remember that we are all visionaries, my lovelies. We just have to figure out where we excel!

Inner Critics and Niggling Doubts

What would you say if I told you that your best and most powerful tool in your creative arsenal, you already posses? And what would you say if I told you that your biggest hindrance to that bountiful, glorious, creative life that you want, you already have, as well? I'm sure you'd agree with me about that second question, rather than the first. Why are we so ready to believe the negative things about ourselves, rather than the positive? I'll tell you why. Because we've all got those same little doubting, niggling little voices in our heads. The most powerful tool we have and the biggest hindrance to us is the same. It's our own brains.

Think about it. Who's the person that most often tells you that you "can't" do something? Who is the person that beats you up for attempting something new and failing? Who is the person that sees everything wrong with us, from how our bellies are too fat to how much better of a car we should be driving? That's right. It's the voices on our own heads.

Sure, the voices in our heads may take the shape of someone we know, or that we have known in the past, but it's our own brains that replay these tapes of their voices over and over throughout the course of our lives.

For me, sometimes those horrid little voices take the form of kids I went to school with. Sometimes, the voice is that of my own mother. But, most often, that inner critic that points out every single little flaw in my life, however minuscule, is the voice of my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Regenbogen. She is no longer alive, so I feel empowered to actually state her name as the most horrible little voice that I've ever encountered which grates on my self esteem, downplays all my accomplishments and wears me down, mentally, to nothing but a nub.

Mrs. Regenbogen had absolutely no business teaching children. She was strict, stern and full of razor-sharp remarks that cut even the most gregarious and outgoing child's self-worth to the quick. Once, I was sick and I missed school. That night, my parents called her and put me on the phone with her to get my make-up work. I wanted to make sure that I had reached the right person. "Is this Mrs. Regenbogen?" I asked into the phone. "Yes," she replied. "Is this Mrs. Vera Regenbogen," I asked, again trying to confirm that I'd reached the right person. When she, again, confirmed her identity, I began to ask about my assignments.

The next day, before we began our lessons, Mrs. Regenbogen called me up in front of the class. "Bri, what's my name?" The tone in her voice withered me on the spot. In a small voice, my eye fixed on her terrifying gaze, I replied, "Um. . . Mrs. Regenbogen?" "Good!" The word that came from her mouth carried no innuendo of its meaning. "You call me that!" I dropped my head and concentrated, very intently, on my shoe laces. After she had humiliated me, she sent me back to my desk and began class for the day.

Thinking back on that year in school, I can't remember saying another word to her or in class, in general, unless I was singled out specifically. I spent the rest of that year with my head down, reading or drawing, trying desperately not to draw her attention to me.

I'm 31 years old, now, and I still carry the scary demon of Mrs. Regenbogen in my head. No matter what I do, it's never good enough and it always draws her ire. If a line I draw isn't perfectly straight, I can hear her snort in disapproval. If I happen to misspell a word while writing, her voice comes to the forefront of my thoughts, "I knew you could never do anything right," I can hear her spit at me.

Mrs. Regenbogen is dead. Part of me rejoices at this thought, but the deeper and wiser portion of myself knows that, really, it's my fault for carrying her memory around and letting her undermine me from the grave. It's my brain (in her voice) that's criticizing me. It's not really her. She's living rent-free in my head and I'm letting her do it. It's the same with all those wheedling and annoying voices in your head.

Whenever Mrs. Regenbogen, the kids in my class or my mother's voice come to the front of my brain, I have to take active measures to not let them get to me. I've learned that ignoring them doesn't do much good. They only get louder. For me, I have to acknowledge them and I do this in a couple of ways.

The first way I can get them to shut up is just to give my brain what it wants. I turn the page in my sketchbook and I let those nay-saying voices run rampant. I write down every hurtful thing they say. I give them free reign to criticize me, pull me down and make me feel like crap until they've said their piece. Most of the time, I can then just turn the page, forget them and continue along my merry way, relieved that they're gone. Other times, I sit down with each of their negative things and I write out whatever response I want to give them. Here are some examples of this:

You're too fat.
Not as fat as you (Mrs. Regenbogen was a rotund woman). At least I don't have anorexia and look like a skeleton. At least I still get invited to dinner parties. And so what if  I am? My hubby loves cooking for me and we still have an awesome sex life. I still know how to enjoy myself, so which one is more important?

You never did learn how to spell.
So what? That's what spell-check and editors are for! I may be a bad speller, but my bad spelling is putting food on the table for my editors' children and I don't see anything 'bad' about that.

All your friends are just pretending to like you.
And? If they are, they pretend pretty damn well AND did I mention that I still get invited to dinner parties? Plus, one of my friends invited me to witness her baby being born. I don't think that's a pretend gesture.

Who do you think you are, attempting to dispense advice? You're not all that special.
Well, apparently there are other people who think differently because my blog gets comments from people I don't know and the response seems to be overwhelmingly positive. Plus, have you seen all the list of countries that people live in who are reading what I write? Pretty damn impressive, wouldn't you say? And I get new countries added to the list and new readers every week, so there!


See? Our greatest hindrances and our most powerful weapon against them is our own brains. For this week, in your sketchbook, whenever those nasty inner critics rear their heads, I want you to write it down. I want you to write down or draw all that negative stuff that's running around in your brain. Get it out of you. Let all the negativity and vitriol flow down on the page until there's nothing left to say. Let this take as long as it needs.

After it's all down on the page, I want you to answer all the voices in writing. Tell them exactly what you think about them. Do you have a writing teacher in your past that gave you an 'F' and tore your creative pieces to shreds? Tear them a new one on the page. You can be as mean as you want to be to them. At one point, I had an elemenry art teacher who offered commentary on a clay sculpture that I was particularly proud of, a mask of Princess Leia. "It looks like you've put this through the spin cycle," she said. In my sketchbook, I countered her. I'm an adult, now. I can stand up and I can tell her exactly what I think of her. In my sketchbook, I wrote:

"You know what? I was really proud of that sculpture. I thought it was the best thing I'd ever created, at the time. And I'm still proud of it. I don't care if you think it looks like "it's been through the spin cycle." Have you ever seen Jackson Pollack's work? What would you have said to him? You fat, old, bitter woman, you have no business teaching children. Children should be encouraged and celebrated, not used as defenseless verbal punching bags for adults who are insecure in their own lives. How dare you insult me! How dare you embarass me in front of peers who already thought I was strange! You were a teacher and, thus, in a position of authority. When you make fun of a child, the other children take that as free license to pick on each other and that's not right! You're a horrible person and you've never made any positive impact on anyone. You were an art teacher. You had a sacred trust placed in you by The Creator to teach, enoucrage and nourish the creative-selves of young children, not create deep emotional scars that follow them into adulthood. I grew up and have been able to come back and tell you that you are full of shit, but others haven't been so lucky. Now, I'm out in the world healing the scars that you and others like you have made in the beautiful, gentle souls of the world. So you can just sit down, shut up, and fuck off 'cause I'm done with what you said to me and I'm done with you!"

The feeling of getting all of that out there? So awesome! So empowering to finally tell that woman off, even if it was only in my own head. This week, I encourage you to do the same. Take back your power. Write it down and let your inner bullies know that you will no longer be standing for any of their crap. You're an adult and you're in control, now. Their residence in your head is no longer welcome. As Wesley Snipes says in the movie To Wong Fu,

 "Approval neither desired nor required!"

Go rent To Wong Fu, if you haven't seen it already. Awesome movie!

If you like, after you finish, you can destroy the sheets of paper you've unloaded on. Taking them out in the back yard and setting them on fire is very freeing. Burying them can work, too, but I find that burning pages is an especially liberating way of releasing that energy back into The Universe so it can be recycled back to us as something positive and uplifting.

Remember, you're not alone. We all have inner critics and niggling doubts when we attempt something new. Don't let them get you down. I'm here to be your cheerleader. You can do it! You don't have to be controlled by your past. You can let it go. You can put it down and not carry it with you. You can be free!



And, most of all my lovelies, please remember that we all, yes all of us, are visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel!

An Eye Out for Animal Medicine

Because I was raised in a Native medicine tradition, I notice things that the majority of people tend to miss or overlook. One of these things is the different kinds of Medicine at work and assisting me on this journey that we call life. In this context, "Medicine" is akin to magic, signs or influences from The Creator.

In pretty much all Native traditions that I know of, Spirit (The Creator, The Great Mystery or God) sends little messengers to humans in order to alert them to various things. Once you learn about the various creatures in the world and their Medicine, you can become more attuned to the world around you.

How does that help with creativity, you ask? Well, let me tell you a little story of something that happened to me, recently.

When the idea of teaching the Visionary Voices classes hatched in my head, I wasn't sure if it was something that was actually worth pursuing. Driving back from the grocery store in the Visionary Van, I was mulling the concept of these classes over in my head. What lessons could I teach? What format could I use? These and many other questions bumped around in my head like bouncy balls. It was then that I stopped at a stop light and happened to look down toward the hood of the van and this is what I saw.

A grasshopper was clinging to my windshield wiper, right in front of me. I laughed. "So what?" you say. "It's just a grasshopper!" But, wait. Other people would dismiss such a visit from this jolly little bug. Me? I laughed because I know about Medicine. Grasshopper Medicine comes to us in times when we need to leap, sometimes with nothing but faith as to where we will land.. Grasshopper teaches us to "take a leap of faith," as it were.

Here I was in my new Visionary Van (a manifestation of dedication to this path), thinking about launching an entirely new idea and kind of unsure about it. Suddenly, at this time of my considering a new direction, Grasshopper shows himself to me. A ha! Voila! Look! A sign from the Universe that I'm on the right path. It may look like a coincidence, but this is how Medicine works. See how wonderful and life-affirming such signs can be?

Another example is when I was pregnant with my daughter. I was driving along the same street, oddly enough, on my way to one of my prenatal classes. At the time, I was thinking about the little girl in my belly and how my life was going to change after bringing her into this world.

Again, I was sitting at a stoplight, not 2 blocks from the hospital I would have her at, when a beautiful little shining blue dragonfly landed on my windshield. Again, I knew my Medicine. Dragonfly is a guide that assists a person with change. With the baby, there would be many changes that would be happening in my life. At the time, I was reading tons of parenting books and I was very frustrated with each book trying to push some sort of agenda on me. Dragonfly helps lead us past the illusions that we carry and leads us to change the habits which are holding us back. Such a wise little bug, don't you think?

Once, in the middle of a meditation project I was working on, my car was invaded by a swarm of little black ants. I had no food that was left in the car and the car had been parked in a garage. I was very annoyed with the little invasion for a couple of days until I realized that Ant was probably trying to tell me something. Ant is the medicine of focusing on the details. Ant would be an editor's best friend. Often, I can see a project that I would like to see manifest in the future, but I have problems with seeing the little steps, daily, that I need to take to get there. Ant tells us and helps us to focus. When I had gotten the message and focused on what I needed to, the black swarm went away on its' own. Talk about a wake up call!

Creatures make themselves known to us can act as guides. We can find signs for knowing which creative paths are worth pursuing, which risks to take, and where we should hold back a bit. When you have a question about your next step in your journey, hold the question in your mind. Mull it over when you're driving or walking outside. And, while you're mulling, keep an eye out for critters. Do any plop themselves in front of you or call your attention to them? (I've had squirrels drop nuts on my head to get my attention, before.) If a critter makes itself known, go home a do a quick net search for "*insert animal here* medicine." There are tons of sites that discuss the Medicine of creatures. See what the critter may be trying to tell you and it might just be the nudge you need to, in the case of Grasshopper, take a "leap."

What kinds of Medicine do you see at play in your life? What critters are making themselves known? What are they telling you? I'd love to know!

And remember, my beautiful ones, that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel!

Absinthe Drunk and God-Mad

Absinthe

Recently, the wonderful drink of absinthe  has become legal in the United States, where I reside. 

When I was in college, my friends and I would order bottles of this famed liquor from places like The Czech Republic. We thought we were so counter-culture and in-the-know, at the time. Our bottles arrived at our doors in nondescript, brown cardboard boxes marked "Text Books." The DEA probably had too much on its' plate, worrying about cocaine coming over our borders and meth being made in bathtubs. So, I suppose that it didn't have time to worry about a bunch of artistic, rebellious and self-proclaimed bohemian college students sneaking in a bottle of barely-known and culturally outdated alcohol. 
 

Visionary Friends: Invisible Vanguard

My friend, Yorgo, wrote this blog post. I think it adequately sums out how my "gap generation," in general feels about life. Please also feel free to browse around his little corner of these interwebs, Invisible Vanguard and tell him that Visionary Bri says "Hi."

There's a kind of malaise that's come over us and, in the wake of George Bush Jr. and so many people trying like hell to drag us backwards into a less tolerant society, it's very easy to get downhearted. I will always be hopeful that things, for everyone, can be better. Yet, I know that we can feel lost, sometimes. If I didn't acknowledge this general ennui, I would be doing a great disservice to those around me.

I put this on my personal Facebook page, saying "I just had to repost this, because I feel like this, sometimes. 'We have do so much, yet we feel the future will never be better for us.' Le sigh:"

Receptionist: Don't you feel like your generation is just lazy?
Person: Lazy? I'd say apathetic.
Receptionist: Isn't it the same?
Person: No. My generation is criticized and toiled with, and I don't see why not - just turn on the TV and watch what they're feeding us. But my generation is not lazy. My generation fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. My generation fought for women's rights in a fury that hadn't been seen since the 19th Amendment. My generation got our first black President elected. My generation fought for Gay rights for the first time in American history. And with all that, we are apathetic, and that's because things aren't going to be better for us down the road. We are the first generation expected to make less than our parents. We are the first generation to see America lose its status as a super power. We've lived through the worst economic times since the Great Depression, and are forced to take out thousands of dollars in student loans at the same time, all while our college degrees slowly turn into a high school diploma. We've done plenty, and expect nothing. So no, I wouldn't say we're lazy, just apathetic."

 

So, what do you think? Does this reflect how you feel in the world? Any suggestions about how we can get ourselves, as a group, out of this funk we seem to be in?

 I look toward personal empowerment. How about you?

 

 

 

 

 

10 Minutes to Get You Started

So, you've gotten yourself a sketchbook, you've made it your own and maybe you've even written a contract with yourself on the first page. What is the next step?

The next step, my dears, is for you to . . . use the journal! No. YES! To use the sketchbook and write, draw or paint in it every day.

The next step is 10 minutes. 10 minutes, Bri? Yes, my lovelies. For your first foray, just 10 minutes.

Creative In the Kitchen: Kinda Apple Pie

The other night, I got a craving for apple pie. Never one to just stuff my desires down, I headed to the kitchen. Only two pie crusts remained in our freezer and my hubby had already claimed them in the name of black raspberry cream pie, so I was out of luck. . . or so I thought.

Eyeing the beautiful green Granny Smith apples on the table, I did a little more thinking. What was it that I really wanted? Did I care that my apple pie might not have a crust? No! I sure didn't. So, I got to work.

I sliced the apples into rings and then cut the cores out of them. I pulled out a medium sized skillet and melted two tablespoons of butter. In the pan went the apple rings. On top of the apples, I drizzled some honey and sprinkled on some cinnamon and nutmeg. I flipped the apple rings honey side down and let them brown on the heat at just a bit below medium.

The aroma of the cooking apples and cinnamon filled the house. On such rainy days that we've been having lately, it really felt like a warm, cozy Fall. Hubby came to see what I was cooking at 10 o'clock at night, his nose twitching. I ended up cooking 2 apples, then hubby said that he didn't want one of his own. But, when I came into the bedroom with the bowl, he snatched a couple of pieces for himself.

The recipe for these beauties is really non-specific. Melt, slice, drizzle and sprinkle. And, oh my, were they lovely. They completely satisfied my apple pie desire. The tartness of the Granny Smith apples was a nice contrast to the caramelized honey. I let them remain a little al dente because I prefer the texture that way, but I'm sure that you could cut them up smaller and stew them like they do at The Cracker Barrel restaurant.

Don't you just want to go and make some for yourself, right now?

So, necessity and a rumbling tummy are apparently the mother of creativity for today. What have you tried in the kitchen (or elsewhere) that turned out really well?

We're all visionaries, darlings. We just have to figure out where we excel.