Say, “Yes” to express! Isn’t it time?
It’s way over due for many of you and the launch of Art Girl’s Sanctuary has been a long time coming for Moxieme. With our recent relocation (yes, again!) we’re so excited to be offering new additions to our fabulous coaching workshops, events and retreats in the Charlotte area.
Come on over and check out the great offerings at http://moxieme.com/art-girls-sanctuary/ and schedule some fun time to create. You know you need it!
Here’s the good news: You don’t have to be an artist to reap the benefits of releasing your creativity. Giving yourself time to create is like sunshine to a flower. It causes you to stretch and grow in all areas of your life.
Come play a while, let your grown-up self take a break from mommying, taxi driving, brain overload, workaholic syndrome and every other thing weighing you down. You are worth the small investment. Bring a friend and come to the Art Girl’s Sanctuary to get enlivened and refreshed. It’s a way of life!
Check out our many workshops here: http://moxieme.com/art-girls-sanctuary/
Thirsty years ago my suicidal, bulimic Hollywood existence collided with a power I had never experienced. This Love so ransacked my world that I was instantaneously healed of an eating disorder that I had been plagued with for years. I’ve never had to binge on loaves of bread, boxes of cereal or pass out from the high carbohydrate intake again. I’ve enjoyed the freedom of eating one cooking and not two bags.
Naively and eagerly I jumped into my new Christian world with an open heart and open hands. I followed instructions like an astute soldier, “Don’t do this” and “do a lot of that,” struggling for years to work harder to become someone acceptable and pleasing to God.
I excelled at this new version of self-help and peddled faster and harder to merely end up as desperate and suicidal as I had been in my old life. It was the mercy of God that I couldn’t jump as high as some hoop holders required, landing me ousted from the “insiders” club and branded as an “outsider,” still to this day by many.
I am a Jonah. I’ve been a runner most of life. You’d think Asthma would have slowed me down, but I’ve always kept my track shoes primed and ready for an exit. I’m darn skilled with an exit plan. We moved thirteen times before I graduated from high school, so I’m well trained.
I imagine most of us at some time or another have been some kind of Jonah, taking off in our own direction despite what’s best for us and despite true north flashing the way home. I sure have taken many a detour, not always intentionally, but blindly boarded ships heading in the wrong direction until I awoke from my confusion and received tutelage in the belly of my own whale!
It would be nice if I could read a story like Jonah and not have to live it, but truth be told, I learn from life experience. I usually have to “live it to learn it.” I have to be so wrapped up in seaweed; ready to surrender, before I can come up for air, stand beachside, soggy but liberated with a new handful of gold.
Some of you might be thinking,
“Boy, she’s come through a lot, but why is she always talking about this inner work? Doesn’t she know that will kill her business? Why did she stop dead in her tracks during that expensive mastermind, chirping about incongruence? Or why is she always focusing on authenticity, vulnerability, getting clear of shame and finding your true Creator made identity? What a buzz kill! Give me that fast ship heading to blitz town!”
In which case I would say,
“Did you miss the part where Jonah was heading in the opposite direction from where God told him to go and was intercepted by an appointment with a whale?”
Been there done that!
I am convinced the reason we so often get stuck in life is because of shame. Shame is not often identified, or recognized, hidden underneath the recesses of our well-armored and perfected shields that work hard to deflect our fear of not being enough. Shame is a dirty word we’d rather skip over. We’d rather numb shame’s association, so we can avoid further threat of exposure even though it causes us to live at half-mast.
Shame has repeatedly taken me down, kept me in hiding, appeasing or defending even though I didn’t recognize that I danced with shame. The fact is we all do! I had almost convinced myself that I was as strong as my shields of protection expressed. I had it down until it bit me in the butt and my inauthenticity erupted in an unsettled incongruence, a deep soul thirst that no cloak of “spirituality” do-gooding, or meeting attendance could fix.
Raised by a mom with mental illness and an absent father, I’ve acquired some strong survival techniques. Losing my dear younger brother who took his own life at twenty-five serves as a constant reminder that though things might look tidy on the outside, they rarely are.
As some of you know I just returned from a creative retreat in Nashville. I have attended many creative retreats and women’s events over the years. I even host my own workshops and retreats, but something made this one different. That’s what I hope to communicate in this post.
I, like an eager and hopeful little girl looking for the pony in the stall of manure have continued to search for my “community” and “tribe”, even though many a women’s retreat have felt like forcing myself into a small shoe box when I feel more like a pair of boots.
I find life often speaks allegorically. One of my own personal parables began to surface about five or six years ago when I was traveling to Los Angeles to lead a workshop and was surprisingly upgraded to first class on my flight.