Portrait Two

I took this photo last week and I am just now finding the time to post it. As part of my 32 Things Before 32 List, I am attempting to take one self-portrait per month. This is September, in all of it's early morning, un-showered, unruly haired glory. 

Lately, Sullivan will wake up anytime between 3:30am and 5:30am. I stumble out of bed and feed him in the soft glow of his nightlight. After that I put him back in his crib and decide whether or not I will just get up or go back to bed. If it's anywhere near 5am, I just get up. If it's before that, I will usually head back to bed to sleep for just a little while longer. 

I love mornings. Becoming a parent has slowly helped me become more of a morning person. I was much more of a night owl in the my college days but those days are long gone. I normally do not see midnight nowadays unless I'm waking up to feed a baby, change a diaper, or wipe a runny nose. The morning is the only time that I find an overwhelming peace and I find myself longing for that time, no matter how long or short it may be that day. 

If I decide to stay up after I've fed Sullivan, I walk downstairs and make some coffee. I sit in my chair by the piano. My books, Bible, and journals are found on the table next to me. I usually try to read my Bible along with whatever reading plan I'm doing. Then I will read a portion of a personal development book of some sort. If time allows and everyone is still sleeping, I will journal in my moleskin. My goal is usually three pages, taken from the Artist's Way Morning Pages. I write about my days, my hopes, my frustrations, my prayers. I've journaled for a very long time through many seasons of my life and I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. Putting pen to paper is such a great way for me to begin my day, no matter how many times I was up in the night with the kids. 

This portrait captures the person I am in the quiet hours of the morning before anyone else is awake. I usually watch the sun rise out of the living room window. If it's raining, I throw open the windows and drink my cup of coffee that hasn't been reheated a million times within the course of my parenting day. My hair is always a mess. I usually can be found cuddled up in a blanket in my robe that I bought for when I was in the hospital having Sullivan. I spend part of my morning whisper yelling at the cat to quit raising hell in the house and try to not feed him too early because he always seems to puke it back up again when Ryan is sleeping. Kitty puke is the worst. 

This is me in September of this year. I'm slowly trying to rediscover who I am in the early morning hours. A mom, a wife, a creative individual that needs this time to soak, pray, and better myself. I am always willing to wake up at 5am to get this time. I need it. 

Bullet Journaling: How I Organize My Chaos

I am currently on maternity leave. My life is chaotic now and will be even more so once I have to return back to work. (Notice how I said "have to?" I haven't quite come to terms yet with returning back to real life in a month of so....baby steps.)

I am an organizer by default and I have been writing in journals for as long as I can remember. There's a box out the garage now that is full of my scribbles all the way back to grade school. It's been a part of my life for a very long time. I like to document. I like to make lists. I like to check of the little boxes once a task is completely and move on to the next. I like to be able to look back and see what I've gone through and how I got on the other side of all of it. I like to see what has been accomplished and what still needs to be worked on. 

About a month ago, I stumbled across Bullet Journaling. I believe I first heard about it here or on this podcast. Probably both. I had to learn more. 

I've been using Moleskine notebooks for a few years now. These pens are also my jam. I have horrible (note: REALLY BAD) handwriting and these pens help a little. I'll take what I can get. I guess it works to my advantage sometimes. If I don't want people reading my notebooks, they can't even if they try because they can't read my scribbles. It's my secret skill: bad handwriting. 

I am slightly obsessed with this way of note taking and to-do list making. (That rhymed.) I have been making my lists daily this way for about a month now and plan to continue doing this for a long time. I usually begin my day by making a cup of coffee and some breakfast (after feeding the little one) and then sit down to make my list for the day. 

Learn all about Bullet Journaling here. You will learn about having an index, a monthly calendar, monthly tasks, and daily tasks. There are certain symbols for certain things. There are ways to make sure you don't lose any points in the process, even if you fail to accomplish that task on that given day. 

I love this stuff. I do. I'm slightly obsessed and I don't care who knows it! 

Life of a Musician: Calloused Hands

I’ve wondered many times in my life why I continue to be a musician. Bands have come and gone, musicians and friends have done much of the same. We all keep going on living our lives in our little corner of the world and songs slowly fade away into the years that have gone by. Our voices have become quieter over the years and our instruments have gathered dust. 

Yet, still I always return to these things. No matter where I seem to be in my life, there is an aching that always takes me back to that place, to that guitar, to those piano keys. I’d like to think that I could run away from them forever; for what reason I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s the idea of being able to conquer something that has been my ghost for so long. It has followed in my footsteps through every downfall and every triumph of my life. It has been my constant companion when I couldn’t see three feet in front of me and only wanted to turn back and run away as fast as my feet would carry me. 

My hands ache to have those calloused hands that signify the long days playing a guitar. I long to be able to close my eyes and let my hands guide my heart and soul across the piano keys. I’ve come to places in my life where if I didn’t put pen to paper and gotten the lyrics out of my soul, I would have surely gone crazy. There have been times where I can’t seem to write fast enough. Where the lyrics pour out of me from places in my heart that I didn’t even know existed. Then there are the seasons, much like the last few years, where I have to fight with everything within me just to pen a few lines.  Life has a funny way of dictating the flood or the famine. 

I do believe as an artist it is important to be heard. I also believe that these words and the progression of notes were meant to not only reside in my basement or in the pages of my tattered moleskine. My sanity, the point in which I feel truly alive, is when I open my mouth and let those songs live. If only it were that easy most of the time. It is a struggle, a daily battle between not having enough time in the day and having the life sucked out of me in the office. It is a process, one that shouldn’t be taken lightly. It is an aching, where one feels their heart strings pulled as they walk right past the piano and out the door to live their adult life. 

Today, I realize the importance of not running away from that ache.