The Best Advice I've Ever Given

A few years ago, I went into a gas station in my hometown to buy cigarettes. The cashier was a friend of mine and he knew about my inspirational writing and the kind of "out of the norm" life I live. Outside the gas station sat a girl, all knees and elbows, around 15 years of age.

My friend said to me, "Would you sit and talk with her a bit? She's getting disheartened about her life." So I said, "Sure," and I went outside to talk to this girl.

I sat on the bench across from her, outside this run-down gas station and as I looked across the table, I saw myself looking back at me. Large brown eyes that shone both hope and despair. Long brown hair, brushed but not styled. And I thought back to myself at her age.

Given all the years and experiences that separated the 15-year-old Bri and the 27-year-old Bri, what would I say to my past self, if I was given the opportunity? In the humid August evening, I spread out my long cotton skirt. I sat and talked to this girl who could have been me.

"This is the best advice I can think of to give you," I said. I took a long drag of my cigarette and exhaled it for dramatic emphasis. "I want you to go out into the world and fuck up."

This young girl's mouth dropped open. That was exactly the reaction I was looking for. I knew, at that moment, she was hearing me. I knew that I had just cut through all the walls that all 15-year-old girls put up between themselves and adults. With those two final little words, I had her.

"Let me explain," I said. "The best thing that can happen to you is for you to finish high school and go on to college. From there, I want you to go out and explore this world. I want you to talk to people that you think you have nothing in common with. Become friends with them. Go out and have adventures. Make mistakes. Make HUGE mistakes. Inconvenience everyone around you - friends, family, lovers. Because through your mistakes and your fuck-ups, you'll learn not only who you are, but who and what you really want to be."

I talked to this girl for almost two hours. I told her stories of my life. I listened to stories of hers. In the end, she went her way and I went mine. I haven't seen her, again.

But my advice stands. And it's the best advice I can give to anyone, really. Everything transformative that I've ever experienced and every great story that I recount at dinner parties? They often started out as really bad decisions.

"Hey! I'm going to hop into a car with 6 people I barely know and go camping 1,900 miles away. There'll be about 30,000 other people around in a state park - none of which have showered in 2 weeks. There won't be any toilets or cell phone reception, but I'm gonna come back with a puppy!"

"Hey! I'm going to go and dress up in Medieval garb. At 11:00 pm, somewhere in Pennsylvania with myself dressed like a hippy and my friend dressed like a Catholic priest, we're going to go get carryout beer from the only bar we can find. It happens to be a biker bar and the guy who's staying with the car? He'll be crocheting a scarf in the back seat!"

"Hey! I'm going to strap myself to a guy I don't know and jump out of a perfectly good airplane at 13,000 feet with nothing between myself and death but a thin sheet of nylon!"

See? Bad decisions.

But each and every one not only turned out for the best, but gave me an experience and memories I'll carry, forever. Essentially, each horrible decision and each fuck-up, they made me who I am, today. I am grateful for each and every time I made a mistake, each time that I stepped outside my comfort zone and each time that I said, "Well . . . why not?" Each time, adventure happened. And each time, I learned a little bit more about who I was, as a person.

During our daily routine, we get stuck. We begin to think that who we are during our routine life is who we really are, at our core. This is almost never the case.

Camping with 30,000 other people, I learned that I am not alone in my strangeness and that there are many different ways of existing in the world. Walking into a biker bar dressed in crazy costumes? I learned that I can be adaptive in awkward situations. Jumping out of a plane? I learned that I am strong, confidant, brave and that I can FLY!

And that's the truth. So I urge you all to take risks and make some bad decisions. I encourage you to fuck-up and fail and flounder and be confused. Stretch and do something you've never done before.

My comfort zone expanding as of late? I auditioned for a movie (which I didn't get), and I'm competing in a landscape art competition this weekend. I've never done A) an art competition or B) landscape painting, so I'm really psyched to be pushing my art envelope in this new way.

What are you doing to push your comfort zone? What do you find when you're outside of it? Let me know. I'd love to hear your stories!

Until next time, remember that every single one of us are visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.

Love to All,

-Bri


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The Source of Strength

Through the course of writing this blog (it's almost 1 year old!), there is a comment that keeps coming up, time and again. It's not one that I mind, but it's one that confuses me.

I write to inspire. I write to encourage and I write to share my story. I written about testifying in court against my mother and how I'd like to approach my own death. I've written about what it's like to skydive, what it's like to have a stroke and what it's like to have PTSD.

The comment / compliment that keeps coming up, throughout my sharing stories with you is about how strong I am.

To this compliment, I normally reply, "At the end of the day, we're a lot stronger than we think we are," and this is true, but it's not the end of the statement.

Yes, I've had a lot happen to me in my short 32 years. Yes, I've had many adventures and weathered many storms, but I don't think I'm necessarily "stronger" than anyone else. When it comes down to it, there are two options of dealing with what this world can throw at you. You can either weather it and let your story continue, or you can let it break you.

Gandhi has a nice quote about this:

Most of the time, I've chosen to weather things, seek help and try to move beyond them. I choose to not surrender. Most of the time, even through depression and Lupus, I convince myself that my story isn't going to end with the latest setback. I remind myself that my story isn't all written, yet, and that there are many shining and brilliant days awaiting me.

Maybe that, in itself, is strength - refusing to "go quietly into that good night."

But, again, I don't see myself as a "strong person." I merely see myself as a person who decided to not let the bottoming-out define me. We all have failures. We all have tragedies and mistakes and oopsies in our past, but we don't have to let them define who we are, forever.

Yes, I'm depressed and have anxiety. Yes, I grew up in an abusive home and I have health problems. But those things are merely facts about me and things that happened. They are not "me."

In the movie, Dark City, a race of aliens is searching for the existence of the human soul by swapping people's memories between different bodies. At the end of the movie, the aliens state that the soul is more than just the sum of our memories. Our past influences who we are, today and in the future, but we are more at our core than just the sum of our memories.

From what I can see, all "strength" is, really, is the ability to pick yourself up when you've stumbled along the way. And if I or any of my readers have done this, then maybe we're all strong people. We all have falling down moments, but in the world of Oriah Mountain Dreamer in her poem, The Invitation,"

"It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children."

That, I think, is real strength.

So, my lovelies, do you think that you are a strong person? Why or why not? Are you willing to own your strength? Tell me about it.

Until next time,

Love to All My Relations,

-Bri

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Resistance and Spiritual Line Work

"All spiritual practice brings us face-to-face with our particular resistance. It's important to remember that resistance isn't what keeps us from our spiritual work. It is our spiritual work."
-Rabbi Avram Davis

This quote rang true for me in my reading, this week. It rang true to me, not only for spiritual work, but for creative work, as well.

I'm in the middle of doing a very large mixed media piece. It's 2 1/2 feet wide by 2 feet tall. All the detail work is very intricate and complex. It's Zendoodle and Zentangle plus some. And it's a very intimidating piece to work on.

Every day, I come to this piece and every day I meet resistance. I come to the paper and look over the work from yesterday. The resistance comes. "That section looks like you were just trying to fill space." "You didn't even try to make it pretty, there, did you?" "Why did you put that color there? It throws off the whole piece." "Wow! That's all the better you could do? I hope you're not planning on showing this to anyone. It's embarrassing."

Resistance. That voice in my head that tells me to stop doing art because I can't draw hands well. That voice that tells me that I'm no good at spelling and therefore I shouldn't write. Resistance comes from that voice in my head that tells me, no matter what, I will always fail. Every single one of us has that voice in our heads.

My art and my spirituality are fundamentally linked. To me, they're one in the same. I make art that reflects the spiritual beauty and oneness that I see in the world. My line-work shows the base intricacy of energy in the process of existence.

A very abstract concept, I know, but basically I try to represent my impressions of the energy of life in visual form.

Flower Line Work
8 1/2" by 11"
Mixed Media
Framed print - $19.99

Every time I approach the paper or the glowing computer screen, I meet resistance. The practice of making art is not the not-having of resistance in your mind. The practice of making art is hearing that resistance and not listening to it, not letting it stop you from making your art.

In this way, it could be said that the process of making art may be more of an accomplishment than the actual finished piece, itself. It takes great bravery to show up to the page, show up to the computer, show up to the wheel or the paints or the canvas and to push past your own demons of resistance. And I urge each and every single one of you to hear the resistance, but not let it rule you.

The process of making art can be just as great as the finished piece. Take joy in your practice and tell that inner resistance voice to shut the hell up!

As always, my lovelies, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel!

Love to All,

-Bri

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Willing to Be Wrong

Sir Ken Robinson, author, TED speaker and advocate for creatives, told a story of a six year-old girl in school.

The girl was sitting in the back of the classroom drawing when the teacher walked back to her and asked “What are you drawing?” “I’m drawing a picture of God," she said. The teacher laughed said, “But nobody knows what God looks like.” And the little girl said “They will in a minute.”

With this tale, Sir Robinson is explaining to us that children aren’t afraid to take chances. If they don’t know something, they’ll risk failing or being wrong. Creativity, in and of itself, isn’t about being wrong, but to quote Sir Robinson: “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.”

Children who are still okay with being wrong are the most creative, you can see it by giving them crayons or blocks or paint. Without having much knowledge of the world, kids pour their creativity out in the form of play.

What can we big people learn from this?

My children have always been my best teachers. Through my time with my daughter, Pookie, I've reclaimed the joy of banging on pots with a wooden spoon and I've picked up blocks to build towers with.

Most often, we use our knowledge and life experiences to draw from in creating. Robert Epstein says, “Creativity, in short, is not something mystical; it’s an extension of what you already know. To be more specific, new behaviors (or ideas) emerge as old behaviors interact.”

 I used my art and writing as therapy for a long time. I processed my life experiences and let it all flow down onto the paper because I was denied access to actual therapy for various reasons.

Was everything that came out good? Oh, hell no! But Jack Smith said it best, "You have to be willing to be bad for 20 years in order to be great and, even then, there is no guarantee."

In my younger years, my writing was trite and shallow, but I did have moments of insight and profound wordsmithing. I did have art that was well-received enough to get me a solo gallery showing during my first semester of art school. I was okay with being horrible. I was okay with working for years without success, even though success did come. In this way, I was able to find my authentic voice and deepen my artistic vision. These things only come with time.

But what is the secret to being creative?

Steve Jobs, before his death, explained that “creativity is just connecting things.”

It’s a promoted idea that the best ideas flow from what we already know, like the river that originates from one spring. But what if we don’t know very much? What if we've never been creative in our life, yet have that deep urge to paint or sew or dance or act?

My advice is to watch children. What do children do if they don’t know something? They think about it and give it a whirl. They try. And they try without huge clouds of doubt and fear above their head.

If you go into a kindergarten classroom and ask, "Who can draw me a air plane?" Every single child raises their hand. Somewhere along the line, we are taught that not everyone can draw. Not everyone can write. Not everyone can run well or catch a ball. So, we sit on the sidelines while the star athlete catches the ball. We read and read and read, but never pick up the pen to write our own story.

I've never figured out why or how this process happens. All I know is that, somewhere, we learn that if you do something badly, you shouldn't do it at all. We're taught that making a mistake leads to mocking, to torment and to ostracism. It opens us up to hurtful criticism and social pitfalls. We think that being wrong makes us look like a newbie (which we often are at new things, but no one wants to be called that).

In Buddhism, they talk about approaching things with a beginner's mind. That means a fresh perspective. To approach something as if you've never done it before. From this mindset, new ideas emerge and innovations are spawned.

If you wanted to make yourself an outfit, but had no idea about what society says you should wear, how would you dress? I think fashion designers (especially the couture ones) think like this a lot. And it's awesome! It's new and exciting and spins our eyes and our thoughts in a whole new way.

My lovelies, this weekend, I want to encourage you to risk being wrong. I want you to do something you think you're bad at and try to be okay with it. If you're not "the best" at something, it's okay! It just means that you're learning and that is a very precious time.

My beautiful souls, I believe that we can release all these negative ideas about ourselves. So what if I can't shoot a three-pointer in basketball if my life depended on it. So what if, when I try to draw a shoe, it kinda looks like a space craft? Who says that there can't be a race of little alien toe people who just love flying around in their loafer-ship?

Mischievous toe-alien

Reach, my darlings. Stretch! Go beyond what you think you can do and be willing to be bad at it. It's only through being "bad" that we learn how to do the best that we can. No one expects you to come into this life, rip roaring and ready to paint The Sistine Chapel at 8 months old. We've all got to work at it and that's completely okay.


And please remember, my precious loves, we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.

Until next time, love to all.

-Bri


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How to Begin

Someone commented a couple of weeks ago, wondering how I center, myself to begin creating. This commenter said that they wasted their first 10-15 minutes just trying to figure out how to begin. I'd like to answer this commenter, now, because I think we all struggle with this from time to time.

Dear Anonymous Commenter,

I understand what you're saying. My process tends to be a bit erratic. I don't sit down every day at the same time and write. I know writers and other creatives that have that kind of a process, but it doesn't work for me. I will tell you about "how" I go about writing and I'll give you some suggestions that may help you. Take from this what speaks to you and leave what doesn't. All of us face this issue, at times, and we all have our little quirky ways of trying to deal with it. Do what feels right for you.

First, my process for creating anything starts with an idea - as all things do. I know writers that sit down at the page or artists that stand in front of the paper and don't know what's going to come out. That's okay, if that's you, but it's not me. So, I start with an idea and I come up with things to write about all the time. I keep a list of them in the back of my sketchbook so, if on a particular day I know I should write, I just select one that speaks to me at that time and go.

How do I center to begin? Well, first of all, my enviornment is very important for me. We all have our preferences. I need to be able to be in a place where I can have laser-like focus, then back off and give myself a "brain break." I like to write in a local bar, for this reason. I can sit in a booth and have my reference materials scattered around me while I focus and sip coffee, or I can go to the bar and have a friendly conversation. Then, back to the task at hand.

If I'm unable to be at the bar I prefer, I write sitting in my bed. Now I know that all the sleep experts say not to do anything in bed but sleep, but that' s never worked for me. My bed is soft, it's comfy, my back is supported and I can have something on Netflix in the background for noise.

Now, for timing. I find myself to be almost completely 100% unable to create in the daytime. No matter the project, when the sun is up, I just can't bring myself to focus on it. I like creating at night. I like that all things become possible in the dark and the shadows, that things become more intimate in the dark. I feel like I can hear my inner creative voice better when the glaring light of day is done. This normally means that I don't get to sleep until 2 - 4 am, but it's the schedule that I work best on.

As far as the actual doing goes, like I said, I have an idea in my head so I've already got some idea where I'm going to go. What I hear when you say that you "don't know where to begin" is that you're afraid you're going to begin "wrong." And let me tell you something - that's what editing is for. That's what proofreading is for. Please let go of that fear of being wrong. Just jump in. Writing begins with just one sentence. A piece of artwork begins with just one sketched line. There's nothing in the RULES OF WRITING (which we're all afraid of breaking) that says those first little attempts have to appear in the finished product.

When I was 15, I took an amazing weekend writing retreat with the absolutely incredible Pat Schneider. (I recommend every single one of her books, so get them all! They're one of the best resources out there.) Pat introduced me to timed writing, encouraged all of us to just get our hand moving, to break through the fear of doing it "wrong" and just be ourselves on the page. She encouraged us just to show up, to tell our truth and to let that be. At first, it was scary. I looked around the room at all the other people who were so much older than me. They were just scribbling away. Finally, I just took a deep breath and wrote, "I don't know how to do this. I'm afraid that all the other people in here are Shakespeare and I'm just some stupid kid babbling on the page." I was honest. I stayed with my first thoughts (the ones before the fear, the most honest ones) and wrote them down. Eventually, the fear fell away because I realized that even Shakespeare didn't get it write the first time. Iambic pentameter doesn't flow from our mouths or thoughts naturally. Even the greats have to work at their craft. Also check out the books by Natalie Goldberg and Julia Cameron. Very great ladies!

 Sometimes, when I have something deeply personal and intense that I want to write about, I picture a friend in my mind. At the top of the page, I write "Dear (Whoever I'm Writing To)." Sometimes it helps me to pretend that I'm telling this story to a close friend because if you can sit and tell your close friends a story and have them saying, "Really? What happened then?" it means that you're a writer. That's all writing is. It's telling a story.

Imagine that you've got a good friend or someone you love sitting in front of you. You want to tell them this story, you want to give them a message. Don't worry about "passive or active voice." Don't worry about punctuation, about spelling or grammar. Just get your thoughts on the page. Just be honest and make sure they person that you're picturing is someone that loves you, that cares about you and that fundamentally approves of everything you do. If you don't have someone like that in your life, pick someone famous or from history that you think could understand you.

When I'm writing, sometimes I write to Changing Woman, White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman, The Magdalene or Tori Amos. If I'm writing about something especially strange, in my head, I will talk to The Blogess. All these women, I think they would understand me. I think that we could be friends, if ever given the chance. Of course, some of these women may not even exist, but it doesn't matter to me. It works. Then, during the editing process, I go back and erase, "Dear Whomever." It allows my voice to flow out of me, to be sincere and it allows me writing to sound like I am actually speaking to you, my reader.

In short, don't let the fear of not doing something "correctly," get the better of you. Begin. Just begin. Jump into it, flounder around, do it poorly. It's okay. You can always go back, later, and erase a sentence or change a word or rework a line. At the beginning, nothing is set in stone. The most important thing is to get your thoughts out of your head and down onto the paper or into the file or whatever. If you don't, they will never ever be shared with the world and your unique perspective piece of human history will be lost forever. And what a terrible thing to lose.

My dear, no matter who you are and no matter where you are. Be brave! Be strong and allow yourself to mess up or be vulnerable. I believe in you and I hope this post helped.


Until next time my loves, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel,


Love to All,


Bri


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Carry On

Oh, my lovelies. This life can be trying sometimes, can't it?

We are capable of wonderous things, but we slip along the way, don't we? We say the wrong thing. We step on toes. We get upset and say things we don't mean. Ah, the crazy ride it is that we call "life."

I know it's not always easy out there. I know that times can seem bleak and uncertain and downright, boots-knocking scary. It's okay, my lovelies. Breathe. Deep breaths. It will be okay.

In the middle of our darkest times, I know it can feel like the whole world is crashing down around you. I know it can feel like the stars have fallen out of alignment, the tides are all wonky and even the cement under your feet seems unstable. I have been there, dear ones.

I've been right where you're standing - in depression so bad that getting something to eat from the kitchen seems to take so much energy that you just don't have. I've been right there - not leaving the house for weeks. No matter how bad you feel, no matter how bleak it seems right now, I'm going to tell you something both amazing and true.

It gets better.

Listen. . . do you hear that? On the wind.

Do you hear that?

It's the universe and it's singing to you, singing through you, thumping in every beat of your perfect, gentle, tender heart. Do you know what it's saying? It's saying . . .

No matter how bleak or how sad things get, no matter how hard or trying or difficult the road, always remember that your story can continue past this ugly funk. Always remember that there can still, yet, be dreams and sunshine and laughter. It will come back around.

I promise.

And you can bank on that, babies!


And to close and send you to the weekend with joy, a song. "Carry On" by Fun.

Until next time, please remember that we are all visionaries. We just have to figure out where we excel.


Love to All,


-Bri


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Either The Laziest or The Smartest Person Ever: I Failed Walking -- Twice

I went to college. 3 of them, to be exact, but I never graduated. The first college I went to was Ball State University, a big state school where a little girl with crazy colored hair (who was the leader of the outcasts in her high school) could fit in, be creative and find other geeks, freaks and weirdo's to be friends with.

In my time at this college, I failed my Walking class. Twice. And the story of how I managed to accomplish this feat is Why I Am Either The Laziest or The Smartest Person Ever.

Now, to the tale. I'll say it, again. I failed a college class called Walking. Twice. Now, this might be understandable if, say, I had legs that didn't work. But I was going to raves all the time and dancing my little butt off. Clearly, my legs work fine. The reason that I failed Walking twice is either that my mind is way too overactive or that I am lazy.