inspite:wait loss

the day before yesterday my mother told me that an artist we both know, who happens to host a weekly bible study on thursday mornings in her home, would be speaking about her one month voyage away from home at the vermont art center. an early morning invitation.
but, waking up at five thirty in the morning is a hassle (excuse), and in my mind a nightmare. a potential waste of time, waking before the sun has yet to greet us. a world around me has so little to offer me but sleep that early in the morning. all because i have been habitually making acquaintances with one a.m. and her little sister one thirty. "you won't regret it", my mother suggestively said, persuaded i went. this morning in greyness.


a severe warmth and comfort welcomed me, quiet voices of women and the smell of a coffee fortune. though i forewent, according to the mumbles of an already acidic stomach. a low fire buring, the stroke of eight a.m. hidden tears with knowledge and awareness tumbling, low beneath my bowed head. for fear of spilling out a tremendous wave of emotion. i was there to support, i thought proudly. oh how i terribly mislead myself, too often to count.

how do i begin, i'd rather leave it all alone, and forget.
i must resist the temptation, i must tell, bare witness to the work of the holy spirit through one artist's words, her journal, her fear, her humility and not all of that but christ jesus alone. my god. to believe. some might say moments like mine, this morning are magical. magic is not real, the act of magic is performance, and what i experienced was real. no authority stands to derive some over simplified summary of our being there. no judgement, no throne to which one is chosen to sit, pontificate and ressurect our conscience mind. my heart gave out. i knew, called out of my weakness i should be there. vunerable, defenseless i had to be there, to be lifted. words flowed. in the midst of great darkness there is light and gratitude. in the midst of brokeness there is peace and validation. she an artist, like me, like her, we find solitude to be a comfort. branching out is without a doubt the most difficult aspect of my life. it isn't just about branching out, it is about the act of opening all kinds of doors, submission, "talking about my art", my words, her words.


all i want in my life is more time, more time, more time. please. i need an almighty god to give me just a little tiny bit more time to make art. art and making art is one of my number one loves. a little bit more time to be a better daughter, a better friend, a wife, a mother, a sister. look he has already given. i am entirely tirelessly grateful for my mother, for my father, for "big e", m.c., aaron & laurie, smoore and emoore, for the three littlest boys:caleb,liam, and sam (who we love and will welcome when they get here). grateful beyond words for katie, jen, matt, andrea, hannah (her words on looking up), josiah, coworkers: amp, linda, gh, and carolyn in the city.


***i will never know enough, my words will always fall short of the exact thought or express emotion i had. my intellect fails me when faced with college graduates, my faith falters before the fevered. my spirit shrinks between insecurity and self doubt and "if i were all that dark inside there would actually be no place for christ". meditation: to free ones mind of thought and focus on the thought. i shall not. god has given me my breath and i will focus on my life. funny how i am worse than i think and it is because of jesus, and yes because of my deep need to know him that i accept him in. everyday. we all need validation, a balance (the breath of life) between what we think of ourselves and what others we know think of us. jesus must be my everything.


how can i resolve? there is no resolve, but rest is waiting for me in jesus. resolve is to remove myself from the discussion or battle. how many come to the perfect point where all is well, where we feel loved, needed, wanted, and validated one hundred percent of the time. is there a reason to give up in the face of late nights? in the face of financial stress, artistic block walls, relationship requirements:expectations? believers often throw up their hands, surrender, resolve, make laws they think they can keep inorder to win the losing battle. inspite of myself i will be thankful.


when i left at ten til nine i cried with my mother by our cars in the grey coldness. cried out at the beauty, to the wordless moments to warm us. melt our hearts and minds. a bend in the road, there is no more waiting, a focus, a reverse of thought and reminder of god's severe mercies, grace and love.

steal my idea

yesterday i felt like the left side of my neck was buldging, a tumor, a lymphnode, an alien creature growing, whatever the thought. this morning it is all about the way i slept the night before last. today there is only a blurry ache, not so much a knot or buldge. i will always try to shake off nagging fear, ward off the dangers of hypochondria, and pull up boot straps. i hold on to double standards when it comes to my health, as you have noticed.

last night i finished up one more thing that i will be sending to nina and to j. i jumped head first into mailorder number five-when i saw the sewing project a bit of glee overwhelmed me. i had not cross stitched in such a long time that the opportunity has swooped me up, i'm loving it. while sitting in the warmth, drinking hot tea for fear of getting sick, i thought of graffiti style cross stitching...oh yeah!!! can you imagine? have you heard of such a thing? i haven't, only knitted graffiti. all i need to do is get my hands on a some black:dark material, draw up some of my very own graffiti and wha-la!!! you're welcome to steal this, probably not, my idea-as there is no such thing as original-right?

and because today is tuesday, self portrait, blah. and i'm not in the know as to the theme for february. but i know one thing for sure. i have been working to wear make up every single day. talk about a self portrait challenge. i carry tissue, black eye linear, and have become very used to the idea of pressed powder. i also may look in the mirror more than i used too. considering by the end of the day, if i'm not careful, i've got dark black circles under my eyes, as the eye makeup has slowly made it's way down my face. oh geez, are you disgusted?

anyway. please. look. here. this is totally neato! afterall, how do you feel?

flea market:beehive tree {revealed!!!}


flash boom bang!!! without further todo, i present this, the flea market:beehive tree. i finally finished it up last night, with some fear of failing, fear of ruining it all with too much, too many dots, too much fuss and fumble. it all came together pretty well and i'm really happy now to be moving on. so much relief. i'm going to take a break from the tree movement for a bit, to pick up cross stitching my mailorder, putting together nina's package, and kristen's package, and well, i want to do a series of six paper quilt collage pieces. i have yet to begin...although i have ideas abrewing.

*now do you remember the bicycle on this piece
and i must say without one doubt that it has been good to take a little break from phantomcrimes. although i couldn't keep from posting a little bit {i cannot resist sufjan stevens any longer}. my addiction to blogging is strange and often prohibits me from reality of sorts. in addition there are so many things i long to express here but would not want to distract from sharing my art. my art brings me so much strength and i'd rather not always run amok with the depravity i often feel about, for one, being very single. awh the words vomit out of my mouth, off the ends of my fingertips. what tragedy and drama-to create is rather satisfying, and contrary to what people do say about artists in general, creating for me doesn't feel as self centered. even though it is a very individual-solo sort of activity. making the kind of art that i do brings me a deep sense of comfort and security unlike anything in my life. i often look at the art i've made and think it holds some kind of mystery that i am not even privy to solve-uncover. as a matter of fact no one has ever taken the time to ask me what i think my art means. so there the mystery lies, i suppose. i have come to call my trees, my growing forest of thought, reflection, relaxation and resolve. i also have loved my phantomcrimes, this familytree represents, i am solo, but a growing family awaits me. my tree spreads, using light, drinking beauty up through it's roots. and so i motion for you to follow me, be inspired, be lifted up, be moved to create. and remember that breaking is important, valuable, and just as satisfying as being creative. rest=contentment=thankfulness=joy.

the spirit of














When the revenant came down
We couldn't imagine what it was
In the spirit of three stars
The alien thing that took its form
Then to Lebanon Oh, God
The flashing at night, the sirens grow and grow
Oh, history involved itself
Mysterious shade that took its form
Or what it was, incarnation
Three stars Delivering signs and
dusting from their eyes

Sufjan Stevens