What's it really mean to dream-to ?

 This is one in a series of posts in which Trish attempts to dissect the purpose and meaning of dreaming; of looking beyond what is to what if~
Working my way towards the answer myself....


'The master of the art of living makes little distinction between work and play, labor and leisure, mind and body, information and recreation, love and religion. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him, he's always doing both.'
James Michener

My work is play, and my play is life.
I am blessed.
And yet~
I want more.
I am dreaming-to.
I have a dream-to.
Bigger. Bolder. More.
And it is good.
It is right.
It is prescribed.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, He enables me to go on great heights. Habakkuk 3:19

It is all good.
Dream. See how big you are really designed to be.
in love. trish

monday musings #5

Your life is the door you open to it. To which doors have you chosen access?

 in love. trish

Tree rings~

Is it necessary to identify present with past? To link places, people, tastes and sights present to experiences of similar form  from the past? 
In this at least, I find it so; my travels.
It serves to give my mind a place to rest, to hold onto, so that all of the new that comes rushing in each and every time I touch down can coalesce gently.
It is through this identity with familiar that I feel protected and sure; just enough to keep on stepping into this unknown.
I am allowed to grow into the new through identity with old and create a new comfortable and familiar-one that will be revisited at another touch down, in the future of  'news', to come and be the touch point of safe familiarity. And from it another layer of my self, of this purpose I am serving, is grown.

Adding tree rings to this layered life of Living.
in love. trish.

tired of chaff

What have you done lately that made you stretch?
That took you outside of your comfort zone?
There've been big things for me:
Giving birth: Creating a slew of new bodies to inhabit this earth and become the next generation~
Starting EncaustiKits: Opening myself up to the work of this, the unknown of this, the blessing of this. And whats more, the potential failure of this~
Building EncaustiCamp: To commit to inspire and enliven multitudes, and offer opportunity to dozens of others, through art~

But I'm looking at the little things right now.
Taking a new route to work.
Shopping at a different grocery store.
Sitting in a new seat on the bus.

Or, in my case, walking to the grocery store in Galveston rather than driving.

As I contemplate this choice I made, I am rolling around the idea that it might be bigger, more impact-full, than the big things; than the giving birth and starting a business.

Hear me out~

You see, I was embarrassed.
I took my four plastic grocery bags from the conveyer belt check-out and walked through the double doors into the Galveston sunshine.
Its blast was just like a spotlight~

I am certain every car passing by on the outside of that cocoon of grocery store safety had multiple pairs of eyes staring me down in disgusted and condemning judgement.

Can't you just feel them all?!
Laughing.
Jeering.
Pointing and shoulder bumping their seat mates to 'look at that woman!'
I was certain I was just moments away from being labeled a bag lady.....

Oh, for crikies sake~

Yes, I very quickly disengaged myself from myself and knew that no one,
not a one,
was looking at me.

Their stories, even the moment of driving the next block they were engaged in,
was far more important and focused than my walking by.
Carrying grocery sacks or not.

What a reminder.
I am not that important.

Don't get me wrong-I'm not minimizing my purpose as an individual.
I am actually doing just the opposite.
I am inflating my God given purpose.

Let me explain~
In minimizing self-that part of me that 'saw' everyone looking at me,
I am inflating, taking note of, bringing attention to, my me.

My walk to the grocery store and the decision to carry my bags along a 1/2 mile stretch of a busy, tourist street impacts my me (my spirit-my soul-that me)

 making me stronger...

(have you seen my biceps?!:)

Me am stronger. ( improper English is intentional-don't call and correct me mom!)

To face the voice the next time I am in front of a crowd
whose eyes are truly trained on me
     (unlike the passing commuters on the Galveston road)
with the same perspective this walk has afforded me:
That I (my self) just doesn't matter.
Even if people do take a glance and 'see' my self,
the judgement that may pass through them doesn't matter.

What does matter is the impact me has on them.

And me is not found in my walk on a Galveston street.

Me is found in my walk through my weaknesses, my steps into my strengths, and my footprints in the sand as I plant another forward foot.

Despite fears.
Despite doubts.
Despite judgement.

And the sharing and impacting that occur because I do so.

I'm carrying my groceries on a busy Galveston street.
And me is quite happy about this~

in love. trish.
worth a good listen: http://media.willowcreek.org/weekend/awake-my-soul/#content

just like a lion

There's a popular story that's circulated over the years about a young boy visiting a sculptures studio and marveling at how very life-like he was able to render the image of a lion in stone.
The sculptor explained to the boy that it was an easy process; he simply chipped away at everything that wasn't the lion.

And so are we.
the stone.

God works on us daily, chipping away at the willing and righteous heart, to come to look, act and be more  like Jesus.
Painful? Sometimes unexpectedly revealing? Always an adventure?
You bet!
I say it with a bit of excitement and even anticipation....

To want pain?!
To want unexpected?!
To want adventure?! (Okay, that one's more believable...)

Yes; I want, with excitement and anticipation, all those things.

Because you see, it's not the pain of injury or heartbreak or devastation,
but the pain of growth, pushing boundaries and taking the road less traveled.

But there's a key; not just any road less traveled-the one designed exclusively, with all the road signs and directional maps labeled and scripted in your own name by the one who designed the best course, the optimal path, the perfect travel plan-just for you.

And, one just right for me.
And, for the next door neighbor.
And the best friend.
Everyone, actually.
For each, a most perfect plan.
Hand designed and sculpted from the great designer himself.

I know, you want to scoff: Don't go yet though.

You see, I used to be you.
A scoffer.
I believed, but I didn't follow.
And I didn't trust.
And I certainly didn't make any decisions other than my own.
And I was miserable.
Lost.
Insecure.
Completely lacking in confidence, direction and purpose.
I bet you can see me clearly.....

Oh I looked okay.
A book contract. An up and coming teaching schedule. The start of a great career and four beautiful teenage boys.
But I was a mess on the inside.
You know, the preverbial 'broken' place.
I was there.

And I found out it wasn't the end. The bottom. the 'all there is'~
It was the beginning.
The starting block.
The sculptor's worktable.

And I began to be formed.
Sculpted if you will.
Parts of me were salvageable; the teaching, the writing, the inspiring.
But there was more to be done.

And I asked for it~

That's another key; a willing heart.
You have to say 'Okay! I'm all in!'
Or, as I did,
' Take me and make me! I am here!'
Daily.

It's so much fun.
Don't believe me?!
Then I dare you.
You don't know till you try.....

You can always change your mind and turn around~
If its too hard.
Or too scary.

And, honestly, it will be.
But its a good hard.
And a really, really good scary.
Truly.
I don't lie.
I find it impossible to do so.
wow.
Don't you want to say that?!
Don't you want to be here?!
Don't you want to see how far you can go, how many you can touch, and just how full your life can be?
It's yours; the one for which you were designed.

Let Him start chipping.
It's amazing.

And, if you ask, I'll tell you morewww.pbsartist.com.
You can come pick up each shard, chip and rock that has fallen from my form and ask me about it.
I am anxious to tell.
Their ugly has made me beautiful :)
pbsartist@aol.com 360-239-8081
in love. trish

psalm 2011

sind or swim
fight or flight.
take it and make it.
What does a mother do when her heart bursts from her chest for her children? For their pain. For their missteps. For their blindness. For their beauty. For their tenderness.
Dear God, if our trials are equally matched with strength and fortitude to survive them, how much do I have? How much must be called to use?
Does love always nearly match pain when one truly invests and gives themselves wholly to the blessing of it?
Dear God, is it mine to learn from, or theirs? Do I let go, or is there work for me in this? Where do you need me to go? To do? To be? To pray?
Dear God, you hold them. Turn them to see you, to hold you, to find you in return.
You are faithful to you word. You work good in all. I wait in wonder for the blessings I know you have in all this. In you alone I trust for what is to come.
in love. trish

rejection...but not mine!

Daniel called me Saturday. Michigan State University turned down his application. He called not only to inform me of this, but to brainstorm ideas and get my opinion on how to proceed. In other words, he hasn't given up hope! The tone of his voice was light and eager: If I hadn't heard him say the contrary, I would've thought he'd been accepted!
It broke my heart to realize he was experiencing this rejection and I couldn't take it from him. I'm starting to see that this will last my lifetime-feeling pain for my children and wanting to carry it for them. They'll be 60 years old-I'll be in a bungalow with my cats and paint brushes- and I'll still want to pull their pain and disappointment from them and carry it myself!
Yet, Daniel is proving beautifully resilient and quite fine without my arms to carry him~
Perhaps this resilience and positive, forward looking mentality is my carrying him. If we are to look at our children and assess from where personality traits are born, Daniel's positive attitude would be attributed to my gene pool. His ability to look through loss to opportunity is grown from the Baldwin part of his brain power! So in this perhaps I can say I am carrying his pain-helping him to move through the disappointment. Some of the best things in my life have grown from loss and rejection. They have not ended in the pain of them, they've thrived in the potential they create for growth in new opportunities.
And now it's time for my children to make these realizations and grow from their own pain. I pray I have been the model in which they can identify peace and opportunity in their difficulties. Even a little excitement in it; knowing that the rejection is just making room for something bigger. As it has been for me. Always look forward Daniel! in love. trish
earth is crammed with heaven.

guest room

I've never had a guest room before. When visitors would come to stay the boys got condensed into each others rooms to make pillow space for the temporary bodies. I've acquired one this summer. Furniture is being rearranged, carpets deep cleaned, windows washed in this hollowed out space. It's beginning to look like a blank slate rather than a vacuous hole that is missing its true substance. Where are the football jerseys?! Where are the tossed wrappers, dirty clothes and discarded golf cleats?!

It's not a pretty place; I am having trouble establishing a personality for the space. I can't seem to get myself around cleaning away the red, panther pride wall color or the collection of Jolt cans on the shelf. Three walls remain pristine in their boring bland white. The alchemy of teenager and visitor worthy space is still in process.

But there is definitely some pleasure in this creating. In the cleaning out corners, dusting desk tops and lying on the floor gazing at the ceiling in this uninhabited region of my cozy home I feel warm joy seep into my cells. God has a plan. The world carries a guidance system. I trust the enfolding of a life; touched by the unfolding of others' lives-fleetingly or forever-to take one where the path leads. And, creating a space in an empty 10'x12', envisioning its use in the coming years, blissfully musing my eternally positive thoughts for the future, brings me peace in the changing of life. I think I will come to enjoy my room for a guest~ in love. trish

wearing the right fit

I find that I get better at standing in my own shoes the more I do it. Makes perfect sense, I know, but let me explain. For most of my life I've trod the path of others-in borrowed shoes if you will. I never realized they were shoes on loan; I thought I was wearing my true fit when I was taking steps in them. But in bits and pieces over the years I began to feel that missteps and stumbles along my life's path weren't happening because I had made an incorrect choice but rather because I was trying to make someone else's shoes fit my form. My feet, my soul, was trying to move me on the path true to it while the shoes I was wearing were trying to keep me pointed in the direction they had laid for me. A clashing of finality occurred nearly six years ago now and the ability for the two forces to coexist on this one set of ten toes became definitively impossible. The stumbles and missteps of previous years came back to me for what they were-attempts by my true soul to carry me instead of the borrowed imposter's. Sometimes it takes a sledge hammer to the side of the head to come to this realization and send the borrowed, incorrectly fit sneakers flying off one's feet. Sometimes one is gifted with the ability to chose and wear the perfect fit from birth.

Little stumbles and missteps still occur today, two years after complete assimilation to this true set of walking shoes designed just for me. But the stumbles are recognizable as my own misguided steps and I am quick to take notice, listen and realign the direction the toes are pointed.

To come to be wearing my size as I have-after being directed by a surrogate set for so long-the walking now a days has a brightness, an intensity and passion in each and every moment that still stands to astound me. Awake. Smiling and fueled by life. in love. trish

my daniel

I have been learning a lot about myself over the past few years. Discovering where my heart's passion truly lies, unearthing my personal voice, redefining love and what it means for me in my life. It has been an amazing journey, and one I recognize I am on for the duration! These lessons learned open to new experiences that create new lessons and thus new learning to be done~

This is my Daniel. He is 17 1/2 and grabbed me-heart and soul at birth. He has a tender gentle countenance and the person he is, the soul he possesses, speaks to me poignantly. Each of my children holds an exalted, unique place in my heart and I can not do this living without each and every one of them: There's just something about Daniel.

He is the second baby. Where Conner reeled back, screaming at the stars for the first few months of his life, Daniel gently cuddled, latched on and peacefully connected. He was an 'oops' baby; growing the family wasn't the plan just yet. Daniel can be 'blamed' as the catalyst to my big family~he made me want more.

The day after his 16th birthday he moved to Michigan to live with his father. We'd lived there for five years until moving to Washington in 2004. My boys developed a connection to the midwest that I did not. Where they want to call Okemos, Michigan their home, I connect to it angst, struggle, heartache and falling away. I can get a sense of their emotional connection to the area, but I still have a bubble of disappointed quandary in the trying to understand it. Their experiences there are so very different than mine; we simple can not emotionally identify on the same level. It pains me that I could not give them my love of the west coast, but I have to let that go and know that they are finding their own way.

I struggle with Daniel's absence from my daily rounds. It is so very odd to have a child not living under your roof. Even if, as living under this roof, we simply said good morning, have a great day, and ate dinner together before rushing off to our own activities, he was still here in my sites. I see him three times a year now. I play a game with myself when the pain of this is too strong. I imagine him a brilliant savant who was whisked off to Yale at an early age. Silly mom.

Deep down I recognize the rightness of his choice and the good it is for his life. I just struggle with the changing form of this love, the loss of connection, and the building of a new relationship description. How do parents let go and let live? Or, how do you get to where the letting go is not married to pain and angst? I have never been a gripping, controlling mother, I believe I've created very independent, self sufficient children for the world, but I still cry as he gets on the plane alone. I still baulk at photos taken of myself with three boys, not four. Perhaps there just is no letting go. The belly button is a testament to this: The cord has been cut physically, but emotionally it is wrought in steel to never be cleaved. in love. trish

I make these and think of Daniel every time Krispie Treats
6 cups rice krispies
1 c corn syrup
1c sugar
1 c creamy peanut butter
1 c chocolate chips
1c butterscotch chips
In a small saucepan heat the corn syrup and sugar until bubbling. Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter. Pour this mixture over the krispies in a large bowl. Stir to combine. Press into a greased 9x13 casserole dish. Melt both chips together in the microwave; 30 second bursts with stirring in between. Spread over krispies. Cool and cut! super sweet yumminess.