A random babbling on creative spirits-

Random babbling on the creative spirit~painting, sewing, baking, boys, an irresistable God and the next 200 feet~

Monday, August 30, 2010

fruit on the bottom; hope on top!


Hope is not what you expect; it is what you would never dream.
It is a wild, improbable tale with a pinch-me-I'm-dreaming ending.

And it is always much bigger than anything we think of as possible in and of ourselves. Hope comes in a size too big so that we have to grow into it.

And the stretching of ourselves in this change brings pain and anguish and at many point along the way it feels as if you either misread the hope that you'd felt, or you just flat out question whether you were actually, properly, equipped to hope for what you did in the first place!

Growing into that hope-moving faithfully in it involves a trusting with a depth and selflessness of which you didn't realized you were capable. You live a day high on the beauty, clarity and thankfulness in the 'coming true'of it, only to wake the next morning questioning your sanity and the vision you'd thought was so clear and decidedly yours a mere day earlier.

I believe in hope. I believe it the gift of hope to lift our spirits, enliven our days and give us a sense of purpose. Hope is God's grace incarnate. Hope is the living out reality of heavenly inspiration. Hope is the blessed gift, unique to each and every one of us, that is proof of God's immeasurable love.

And it is hard. To hold onto this intangible. To substantiate this unknown. To realize this mystery in our 'see it then believe it' minds. But we must work through this hard. We must step forward into this pain. We must continue to walk and not turn back. We must realize that it is not to be seen before it is believed, but rather we must believe in order for it to be seen.

This is hope. This is faith. And this is grace. God asks this of us; to live in faith-to believe. And in this faith to take the next step, and the next, as he reveals them to us, the next: So that the hope may become manifest only through his guidance in our faithful following. There is no other way. For only in this, only in the faith is the belief rewarded and made real. in love. trish.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Book II

I'm off to Cincinnati again! I vaguely recall saying something, maybe not out loud-but only to myself, like I'd never do another book since the first was such a traumatic experience :)
Silly me! I'm off to Cincinnati for a second book step-out photo shoot and will write the manuscript through the cooling-off months of fall. So excited to put all these latest works out there for encaustic artists to explore and geek on! I've come alive in the sharing and inspiring that the first book has opened up for me and I realize that this second will offer the same! Now, just to get through the pain of production.....you know, all those birth pains and such.....oh my ;) in love. trish

Friday, August 13, 2010

New encaustic artists' work!

I'd like to think these are all a reflection on just how fantastic I am at teaching this art, but honesty dominates and I credit goes in full to each individual artist! Such enlightened, passionate work. Kudos to all who participated in ArtUnraveled 2010 in Phoenix with me last week; thank you for all your goodness! :) in love, trish

Saturday, August 7, 2010

inspired art retreat!

Open registration begins tomorrow! One of the premier art retreats-in North Carolina!
Check it out and join me! in love. trish

Thursday, August 5, 2010

interesting images of where I am~

Except for a few, all taken to make sure my boys can still assert that I take pictures of weird stuff ;) looking forward to using these somewhere....

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I'm just wondering....

what makes one teenager look me straight in the eye, smile and say hello as I pass him on the sidewalk, and another avert their eyes, make themselves busy, and pass on by without acknowledgement?
I am fascinated by this phenomenon. Is it any one thing, or many different issues that cause a person, specifically here, a teenager or young adult, to act as if I do not even exist? That there is not another person sharing the sidewalk and passing on their left....
I find myself trying to remember back to my own youth. Taking a memory walk to my high school days to see if the person I was, the teenager I lived in, turned to say hello with a smile and genuine attention, or was more apt to turn away a bit, offer a closed shoulder rather than an open heart....
I've actually been contemplating this for a few weeks now and can not bring myself to recall the minutia of my days to discern which sidewalk passing teenager I was. I can not remember which way I turned; inward or outward. I can recall my state of mind though; the feeling of my sense of self and what my aspirations were at that age. And to this, I can guess at which teenager I was in the world.
I can remember wanting to be loved. Trying to be loved. It's not that I wasn't, but that the sense of myself was that I was lacking in it. That I had to earn more love; find more love; even justify, perhaps, love in my life.
I kissed my first boyfriend because my friends told me he wouldn't be my boyfriend if I didn't. I tried out for cheerleading because I had friends in 'that group' and I wanted to be accepted and loved by the 'in' crowd that they were. (I had hideous stage fright at this point in my life, a byproduct of my also hideous low self esteem and flopped the routine that a generous spirit had ingrained into my limbs for the past month.)
I allowed a 'friend' to cut my hair freshman year because I wanted so much to have her like me; to call me a friend and let me join her among her group. (I ended up looking like a poodle. I only this year have come to know what became of her as she found me on facebook....)
Is it this way for all youth? This fleeting? This base and most external of connections made and called friendships? I believe noone could truly be my friend because they could never truly know me; I did not know myself-and could hardly begin to share what was unknown.
Because of these memories, this sense of my teenage self, I believe I was one to turn away and acknowlege nothing more than with a small sidestep the presence of another passing by. I do not feel within me for that former self enough courage, tenacity and self-worth to have stood strong and assured. To have passed with an honest focused acknowledgement of the human being sharing the same space for even this brief moment. I didn't have the guts. I didn't have the strength. I didn't stand on my own solid ground therefore could not extend to others the grace I had not found myself.
So thank God for the smallest of mercies. Thank God for 43 years; that these years have allowed for the time and patience and perseverence to keep walking and passing and feeling the shared smile of a passer by....
Until I begin to not only feel the smile, but also acknowledge, on occassion, one. To feel them begin to fill my excavated self doubt-filled pit, to even take the step to try my hand at returning one or two.
So perhaps all those bodies I passed weren't there for me to participate in with a shared greeting. Maybe they were all there only to hand me something. Something that would become a bit of me. Maybe they were all passing to my left so as to leave behind a bit of themselves in this path-crossing-To let flow, from them to me, a miniscule particle of faith, hope and grace that would begin to build. To pile up in the vacancy of my soul. To backfill the excavated trench of my self esteem slowly, surely, bringing me to a leveling. Filling me up-almost imperceptively-over the days and weeks and months of passing. Graciously giving to me, in that split-second-shared smile-of-human-compassion, more of myself.
Taking me finally, to an overflowing.
I believe this. To each of the dozens, no-hundreds, of gracious bodies that have passed me over my years, through short sprints to the busstop in middle school, from the car to front door of the job in high school, to my groggy college brain walking to campus in my young adult years. To each and every one of these unknown, long forgotten faces, I give thanks. Your merciful acknowledgement of the questioning, seeking, floudering self hurrying past is a testimony to my current self. The self that now can and does look directly into the eye of the passing sixteen year old-wafting cologne and hairspray-fresh acne and an overstuffed backpack-and smiles a gracious compassionate knowing glance.
I get it. I understand why you don't acknowledge my passing by sometimes. I can connect to the why of your self-effacing timidity. Just don't settle for staying there; don't stop in the self-doubt or set up shop in the timid. Let each passing smile and fleeting acknowledgement build and back fill your pit of self doubt and begin to fortify your boundries. Let each one count for what it is; wisdom to grow you into who you are meant to be. Let it be you. Let it be yours. in love. trish