The following is something different than I’ve posted since launching BreatheDeeply, but this week, inspired by fellow writer, Glynn at Faith Fiction Friends, I’ve decided to post my answers to the exercise found on pages 73-74 of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron as a group of us journey through and discuss this book over the next several weeks at Tweetspeak Poetry Press.

So…here goes.

Detective Work – An Exercise

1. My favorite childhood toy was: A simple three-story wooden dollhouse built by my grandfather. I spent hundreds of hours in a sun-splashed pool of deep green shag playing with my doll family, Mom, Dad, Karen, Joey and Grandpa.

2. My favorite childhood game was: Parcheesi, hands down, bar none! Yet I’ve never played the game with my husband or my own children, and I have no idea why. Hmmm…odd. Might just have to find a Parcheesi board, bring it home and introduce them all one of these days!

3. The best movie I ever saw as a kid was: The Wilderness Family – the first movie we saw as a family, left center, midway up at The Rivioli Theatre in Cedarburg, swallowed up in deep burgundy, plush velvet theatre seats.

4. I don’t do it much but I enjoy: Ice skating, a lot. I figure skated competitively for years as a child and still love the speed, the wind in my face, gliding effortlessly, cutting clean, crisp edges into swirling patterns across a fresh sheet of ice.

5. If I could lighten up a little, I’d let myself: Lift my hands in grateful praise and worship on Sunday mornings instead of clasping safely behind me. Sometimes it just takes 20 seconds of insane courage…

6. If it weren’t too late, I’d: Get my motorcycle license. Although noting is impossible with God, this side of a miracle healing of my injury, I’m resigned a cage – a tan minivan to be exact!

7. My favorite musical instrument is: Saxophone, acoustic guitar, piano/keyboard, and the human voice – with so much beauty, how can I choose just one? The blending of melody, harmony, textures and sounds makes my soul sing.

8. The amount of money I spend on treating myself to entertainment each month is: I have absolutely NO idea! Can’t be much. I bring my own tea wherever I go, and prefer to be home than away, I love Kindle freebies, don’t love food, dislike shopping, and only get my hair cut twice a year. I’m really kind of boring.

9. If I weren’t so stingy with my artist, I’d buy her: Nothing. My husband surprises me with far more than I’d ever buy for myself. ☺

10. Taking time out for myself is: Ten minutes in the backyard with my camera just taking in God’s amazing creation.

11. I am afraid that if I start dreaming: I don’t think I’ve ever stopped. I don’t work to make my dreams happen, but I’m always excited when God does.

12. I secretly enjoy reading: People Magazine. Isn’t that shallow? I indulge in the waiting room at the orthodontist while waiting for my kids.

13. If I had had a perfect childhood I’d have grown up to be: Me! My childhood wasn’t perfect, but I always knew I was loved and wanted even before I was born.

14. If it didn’t sound so crazy, I’d write or make a: Produce a whole line of Breathe Deeply products from my writings and photos, supporting good friends on the mission field with all the proceeds. I already have notecards, notebooks and pens, travel mugs and water bottles, and when/if the time is right, God will open doors.

15. My parents think artists are: My Dad appreciates true creativity, especially good writing and photography. My Mom enjoys art within neat and tidy boundaries of expression.

16. My God thinks artists are: Exactly who He created us to be — unique and beautiful expressions of His nature to all the world.

17. What makes me feel weird about this recovery is: I’m not blocked or recovering. I spent years after my injury wondering why God was pulling me away from serving in ways I loved, how that could possibly be good. Over time, I began to see that His gift is time and space to breathe, to see differently, shift perspective and begin to notice, absorb and spill my heart into words, to capture His beauty with camera and lens. From the perspective of time, I stand amazed at what God has done, at the gift I never expected, wouldn’t have chosen, and still can’t quite believe.

18. Learning to trust myself is probably: Second only to learning to trust God.

19. My most cheer-me-up music is: Powerful, evocative, gritty lyrics, real, with substance, good base, strong beat, gravelly vocals, stuff you can feel in your soul, sink your teeth into, music that turns your heart to the wind and calls your soul to RIDE!

20. My favorite way to dress is: T-shirts and denim, hiking boots or sandals cut wide across bare feet, and always a soft, cozy, warm fleece.

Now it’s your turn! Pick a prompt or two that interest you and leave your responses in the comments below or post the whole list on own blog and leave the link for us to follow.

Have fun! I’m looking forward to reading your responses!

Attention is an
Act of connection,

The world rich,
Throbbing with treasure

Beautiful souls,
Interesting people

A series of small
Miracles.

Clock the seasons,
And days

Stand knee-deep in the
Flow of life

And
Pay attention!

For the creative life involves
Great swathes of attention

Its reward?
Healing.
To connect,

And survive.

Its gift?
The capacity
for delight.

Valuable…

Each moment
The only safe place

Between a past too painful
To remember

And a future too terrifying
To contemplate

But this moment
Taken alone,

Always bearable

Our quality of life
Always in proportion

To our capacity for
Delight.

*This poem is dedicated:to my Dad, who taught me to “see,”
and to my husband, who graciously grants me the time and space to
“pay attention” in the midst of our crazy, busy life with a house
full of teens. I love you both!

Joining today with Tweetspeak Poetry’s Book Club discussion of The Artist’s Way.

One Sunday afternoon
I asked you to
Describe me

In one word,

Thought it might be fun.
Your choice
Surprised

And wounded

Cranky?
That’s your word?
You didn’t laugh.

I didn’t ask you to
Explain
But wondered,

Is that really what he
Sees
In me?

And then today

Oh, you’re a real
piece of work

Slipped through gritted teeth
And chilled my soul

Oh, Lord, I breathed
Just keep me
Still

To seek the truth
Beneath these brittle
Words

Right here
Where love is thin
And scarred

And I so often
Get it
Wrong

Just You, I prayed,
And truth
And…

…ohhhh…

I am
A piece of work!

Exquisite, holy
True,

A masterpiece
Of workmanship

Redeemed, alive
Set free

In You!

Linking up with dVerse Poets today. Come, drink deep of poet-speak.

As we are creative beings, our lives become our work of art. (p. xxvi)

So I search for words
In the crinkle of newspaper
Igniting pinecones into
Flame

Blue-white wisps coaxed to
Dance

In swirling orange
Skirts
Wide in the wind

Art is born in attention. Its midwife is detail. (p. 21)

And I listen for words
In the sizzle of chicken,
The chopping of carrots,
The simmering of stock
For soup

Waiting for them to
Rise with the dough,
Steep with the tea,

Crumble
A bumper crop of
Cones
Into ash

…the singular image is what haunts us and becomes art (p. 21)

Tiny golden flecks
Glinting in
Green eyes

Soft spring rain
Nourishing tender
Roots
One fat drop
At a time

Ideas, like
Heat-cracked crusts,
Cooling on the counter,
Steam rising

The artist brain is
• sight and sound, smell and taste, touch (p. 21)
• sensual, a language of felt experience (p. 21)
• reached through rhythm – through rhyme, not reason (p. 21)
• triggered by images (p. 23)

Seeking art in every breath,
Swallow
Action

Cotton floating soft
Against bare skin

Vapors of
Heat rising
Hypnotic,
Altering the way we
See

Words pouring
Across days
Like slow molasses

Flitting in,
Swooping out

As we blink
Capture
Recognize
Record

Become the art

Noticing
Seeking

Because creativity
Is not
A luxury

But inherently
Who we are

Fearfully and
Wonderfully
Made

By Him who
Spun the cosmos
And separated the seas

Who,
In mystery,
Created

You and me.

*Join us here and see what others are saying about The Artist’s Way:

Brown leather cut wide
Across bare feet

Cool tea in glass bottles
~ never sweet ~

And heavy cream
Conversations

You can sink your teeth into
Plain maybe, but

Real
Not brave

Just longing for a
Few

To plumb the depths
And drink the nectar of her

Soul
Skip the whipped and waxy

Words of discontent
To breathe

The heady scarlet
Thread of

Sacrifice
And joy alighting at the

Edge
As she swoops and swallows

The night
Inviting me to

Breathe the rhythm
Of her life.

*Inspired by Michelle Rinaldi Ortega who encouraged me to respond to this week’s prompt at Three From Here and There.

And linking with dVerse Poets where words spill and poets speak.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them….God saw all that he had made and it was very good. ~ Genesis 1:27, 31

A letter to my daughters, my sisters, my friends, myself:

I want you to know, today and everyday: You are beautiful – body, mind and soul – not because you’re model perfect, but because you’re the exquisite workmanship of God.

Society advertises a narrow standard of physical beauty – one size, one shape, one height, color, hair, eyes, brows – and we wax and pluck and color and shave and dye and perm and straighten and strive to fit that mold. And sometimes we do, but it comes at a cost, and not just to us.

We were created to fit together into the mosaic of creation, each of us unique and perfectly fitted to complete the whole. When I strive to be you, two of us struggle to fit into a space created for one, and another space, mine, is left empty, a gaping hole I was specially fitted to fill.

Just as no two snow flakes are ever the same, we weren’t meant to be identical either. Think about the immensity of God’s creation – a seemingly infinite variety of colors and shapes, sizes and patterns and dimensions – from velvety roses to giant sequoias, gentle-winged butterflies to steel-taloned eagles, little brown bats to great white whales. God’s creation is vast and varied and immensely different – on purpose.

Can you even imagine life with only one kind of flower, just big, white daisies sprouting from every garden, every yard, every vase, held in bouquet of every bride? Soon we’d stop noticing them altogether and none would be special, because they’d all be identical, exactly the same.

We weren’t meant to be one color, one shape, one size, but a vast array, the full spectrum of God’s infinite beauty, each soul reflecting bits and pieces of God’s own character, creativity, and diversity.

We were meant, as my cousin says, “to embrace the curl,” to embrace who we are, who God created us to be, instead of hiding and blending and covering and shaping and forcing our uniqueness into society’s one acceptable form of “beautiful.”

The world tells us in whispers and shouts how we should dress and walk and talk, where we should live and eat and work and sit, what we should drive, how we should look and think and feel. But too often the world is wrong, and the voice we hear isn’t God’s.

When God created us He said it was good. That’s what makes us beautiful, His character sewn into our souls, His Spirit living inside us, His love poured out over us again and again. We’re beautiful simply because we are His, treasured and sacred and absolutely loved.

So be who you are. Embrace your curl! Shine bright! Because this world needs you. It needs me. And it’s why He created us – exactly as we are – to complete creation’s mosaic – an exquisite reflection of God spread across the entire spectrum of creation in all His infinite glory!

He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. ~ Zephaniah 3:17b

*Written for the beautiful women of We Used to Be You Ministries — sharing life experience, providing wise biblical counsel, and sharing the love of Christ with girls and young women.

Words thrum through the air
And stick in my heart

As I absorb them
One by one

Like a pin cushion
Till the pain seeps

Through the cracks
Spilling down my cheeks

Splashing across the backs
of my hands

Pooling at my feet
As I pray

Oh, God,
I am not enough…

Fibers rend
Flesh from flesh

As I begin to see that
I simply cannot love

Enough
For two

Cannot will my son to
LIVE

To breathe,
To hope

I can only
Release

And trust
Relinquish my son

To the One
Who never fails

No matter how this ends
Because somehow

In this upside down
Inside out

Live to die
Die to live

Faith
There is Love

Immeasurable
Pulsing within my own soul

Bursting, splitting,
Rending my very self

But it costs
Cutting deeper

Than I ever dreamed
Possible

As I slowly tear open
Tear-soaked fingers

Surrendering heart and soul
And self

~ me ~
As a living sacrifice

Not once
But again and again

And again
Deeper

Relinquishing every want
Hope, dream

All
For Him

To receive
The whole measure

Of the fullness of Christ
Emmanuel

God with us!
Grace

Abundant
Poured out

Spilled over
Because

He is Love
and

Love.
Never.
Fails.

Linking with the beautiful community at Graceful:

For the past four weeks we’ve been studying 1 Corinthians 13 in church. For the past ten weeks, we’ve been experiencing one of the toughest parenting cliffs of our lives. Together they’ve spilled out into this, One Love, because God is good. All the time. And though today I know only in part, one day I “shall know fully, even as I am known.” Joy in the midst of hard! Love that conquers all!

Sharing also with Laura at the Wellspring:

And with DversePoets, where words spill and poets speak.

Peace is a journey of a thousand miles
and it must be taken one step at a time. ~ Lyndon B. Johnson

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. ~ John 14:27

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. ~ Mother Teresa

May the stirrings of God
draw you into His holy Presence,
His peace gently washing
over your soul in a flood of
tender, healing mercy.

Sweet Saturday blessings to you, friends!

Sharing with the beautiful community of Still Saturday:

Pounded and stirred,
Strained fine as light

Through scarlet mesh
Translucent

Open
To become,

Yielding
To receive,

Cupped to be
Intimately filled

Spirit oozing through this
Heart so delicately spun

It seems a voice
Will shatter it

To dust,
From which it’s claimed,

Scooped and pounded and
Stirred by Him

Who hovered over the deep,
Speaking order into Life

Mosaic of creation
Wild imagination!

Each a necessary piece of all,
Yet incomplete

Until He comes again,
Fullness of GOD

Without whom

I.
Am.
Nothing.

Formless and void
Unable to absorb

Living water
Or light

Till He hovers,
Breathing life

Bleeding grace
Spilling Love

Across this barren heart,
Cupped to receive

Life…
To the full

Not meant for one,
But all

To draw this thirsty,
Wayward world

HOME.

Sharing at DversePoets, where words spill and poets speak.

Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
~ Song of Songs 2:12

Mourning doves coos soft
in morning mist,
Slow, gentle light
rises in the east,

Sabbath sunrise,
Taste of joy,
Promise of hope,
Wake of brand new day!
~ Cindee Snider Re

Today, savor the moment,
Soak in the beauty around you,
Breathe deeply and
Simply know that
He is God!

Sharing with sweet Sandy on Saturday:

And with Deidra on Sunday: