“I have given everything I see in this room all the meaning that is has for me.” – A Course In Miracles: Lesson 2

Journal, April 17, 2012 • A fitting lesson to dowse in the Course, as I look around me. From room to room, I see boxes stacked wherever there is a spare space. Some holding 36 years of marriage. Some holding the last 18 years of reconciliation.

I give them the meaning that they have. The objects inside are clueless to the purpose assigned to them. On a good day, they speak to relief and gratitude for the honesty expressed that made it necessary to pack them up. On a bad day, they speak to surprises and sideswipes. If I am the meaning-maker, which meaning shall I embrace today?

Yesterday, I made my first serious “pass” through the divorce papers while my husband packed up his “pieces” of the kitchen that was our kitchen – soon to be my kitchen. I am somewhat in awe as this process of acceptance and forgiveness unfolds. And I am grateful that I am journaling through this – writing under fire as it were – and know that I am benefiting exponentially.

Exponentially? Really? How do I know?

We are always choosing stories, are we not? Well then …
that’s my story and I am sticking to it!

Any other meaning-makers out there with stories to tell? What are YOU embracing today? This is the place to share!

The Messy Room and my Facebook Page are two ways that I share the “HOW” of it! Please join me and SPREAD THE WORD.

You CAN get here from there!

If you like this then LIKE this and SHARE it. Together we grow!

Surrender • charcoal on Bernadette’s Pages substrate; page 63
by Bernadette Rose Smith

Ever listen to your thoughts and marvel at how persistently they weave into stories you tell yourself? Stories that do not serve you well? Especially in times of transition?

How happy would your dreams become if you were not the one who gave the “proper role” to every figure which the dream contained. – A Course In Miracles

I woke up this morning with a thought.

“Surrender that.“ whispered the angel.

“What?” I asked.

“That ‘My God, sideswiped again, I’m not enough’ story.” chuckled the angel.

“Oh? You mean the ‘How could I have missed this, how dense am I that it took another eighteen years of marriage to figure this out, I’m alone again‘ thought?” I snapped.

“My dear, you had so many more thoughts attached to that one. You didn’t notice the storyteller revving up? You were on Chapter 14 before I could get a word in edgewise.” announced another angelic chuckle.

“How can you laugh?” I asked, somewhat irked. “You were around in ’94. Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous for two people to be this far off base with each other?”

“What? Ridiculous to forgive? To accept the things you cannot change? To move on amicably? To still love and support each other as you embrace your new lives?” A wing fluttered by.

“Well, yeah, that’s a view. But I was more concerned with looking at the part where I am a middle-aged woman who lost herself again – even after she swore she wouldn’t. And how this is not a time to be starting over. I should be reaping the harvest.” I said, feeling somewhat diminished in my position.

“How do you know that, dear?” asked the angel.

“Know what?” I asked back.

“Any of that? Or the thousand thoughts you had to support that novel you were writing before the sun rose? The one that has you frowning so.” continued the chuckling.

“Well, I don’t see your point. Besides, you are an angel and what do you know about what it is like to be in a body with a body of concerns? If you are so smart, tell me which of the thousand thoughts to surrender then. You obviously heard them better than me.“ I harrumphed.

“Lets start with ALL of them.” beamed the angel. “You will be contacted as to which ones will be of service to your new life.”

“Well, then what am I supposed to do with today?” I wondered out loud as the cats eyed me for promise of breakfast.

“Tell no stories. Surrender your thoughts.” whispered the angel.

“How do I know what thoughts are stories?” I whispered back.

“Lets start with ALL of them.” said the angel.

“You said that already.” I retorted.

“I know. And you retell your stories, dear.” fluttered the wing. “Just for today, see all thoughts as a story and know that you have the power to edit. So pay attention or you will miss the life you are meant to have while you are writing that novel.”

So, tell me I am not alone with this penchant for storytelling. (That would be a story, right?) Any storytellers out there struggling with stories that don’t serve? Share them here if you like! Or just share your storytelling experience.

The Messy Room and my Facebook Page are two ways that I share the “HOW” of it! Please join me and SPREAD THE WORD.

You CAN get here from there!

©2006 Bernadette’s Pages: An Intimate Crossroad

If you like this then LIKE this and SHARE it. Together we grow!

Starlings Leaving Thunder Bay by Donna Harvey
A Lesson in Moving On.

A while back some muses played Kick the Can in The Messy Room. It was a spontaneous game of creative play, each muse “kicking” off the muse’s contribution before them with their favorite medium. There were even enough kicks that it merited the title of “project. Then one day, long after the can dust had settled, a muse named Donna showed up and, after rummaging around in some of the Messy Room’s back rooms, she was inspired to take her kick at the can.

Donna’s kick went straight to the moon – to that lunar side of knowingness. (Will be curious who kicks it back from there!) No doubt an angel call landed her in the Messy Room, as I find myself in the company of many these days who are going through what she shares with her kick of the can – self included.

In her email, she wrote, “This was written under the illuminating light of a Cancer Moon going full in Leo wherein my heart will always speak louder than my mind. I followed the pen. If this is too much, I can rewrite and resubmit my inspiration when the moon goes into Taurus.”

You know what I am going to say, Donna? Keep following that pen. Your art and words are inspired, intense, brilliant and playful. And I do believe that a few of us have been waiting for you.

Moon Meditations by Donna Harvey
Where would you like to go today?

About Donna in her own words:

“There was a time when I did not consider myself an artist. I thought it to be nothing more than what I did on craft day with my kids. I was a just a mother, the one who made sandwiches and found socks. I have grown in understanding that if anything, IT is all art. Born of that understanding, I was an artist. So, I will write you a story “On Being Born.” Or more likely, “On Being Brave.” Or perhaps even “The Effects of Neptune in Pisces.

Whatever it might be, it is a journey through that of a messy room that ironically, births an uncluttered mind.”

HERE IS DONNA’S KICK AT THE CAN:

Suspended in oblivion, I am not yet aware of the terms of the agreement and my fated upheaval. As I wallow in complacency and the comforts of the womb, I become faintly aware that I can no longer float freely but in fact, I am bound by what once had sustained me and I cling to its puny offerings as it now subtly resists me.

I am no stranger to the darkness, but the blackness that now envelops me, compels a sudden numbing dread. Although the voices are barely audible, the urgency in which they are spoken is unmistakable, like some ugly prelude to what has yet to come. The incessant drone of voiced opinions and practical advice crawls through my skin as if marching ants.

I am repulsed by this unsettling sensation as I become acutely aware of the connection I have with my body and my mind. I feel the blood race through me and send every fiber of my being, convulsing with fear as I struggle with this unrelenting resistance and my impending doom. What once had provided nourishment has now become some colossal force that assaults my body and sweeps down on me with great vengeance to expel me from this coveted space.

I know nothing of heroes and saviors but feel a most compelling need to fall to my knees and pray to the blackness that now consumes me, and without pride, I beg for mercy. I cling to that which repels me so defiantly. I curse answered prayers as I gather new strength to battle the breach that now looms before me. I labor with the intensity of monumental change, which contorts my body and sends me reeling towards the blinding light.

Letting go becomes inevitable as I submit to this undeniable force and surrender to this evolution.

A mournful wail transcends from the depths of my soul as I succumb to what lays before me. My liberation is fast approaching as I drink in the warmth that embraces me and I feel safe in the cradle of her arms.

Starlings in the Meadow by Donna Harvey
An empty Girl Guide Cookie Box and a knife. Finding what you love.

As I wrap up this post, I am DELIGHTED to witness and be part of this creative flow. The generosity of muses like Donna, who share their creativity so freely and spontaneously, inspires me. And I hope it does you too!

Check out The Messy Room’s Kick the Can Project. Videos, art, poetry, mandalas … and more! CLICK to see the rest of the can kicks!

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to the first kick. Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots … or follow your inspiration like Donna did …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share
The Messy Room with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!

Lately, I find myself thinking about “they says.” You know, those statements that we encounter in life that are spoken as truisms. Perhaps meant to be helpful guides like …

Once a cheater always a cheater.

Hmmm. How helpful is that?

The date of my last post – June 24th – hits me right between the eyes with another “they say.” They say that a blogger should never leave their blog unattended for a long period of time without making an official “I am on a blogging hiatus” statement. They say it’s bad business. (They also say “right between the eyes” is a cliché and writers shouldn’t use clichés.)

Well, I say:
What if I didn’t know I was going to take a hiatus?
What if life happened – as it so often does – and I just got caught up in living it and wasn’t in the space to write about it?
What if I just wanted to BE in the experiences? (Some of which were very cool, by the way, and will be shared here.)
What if I’m not a writer and just a gal with a messy room?

BESIDES, who are THEY anyway? And where do THEY get their information? I mean, they must really get around because they have a lot to say. I’m guessing their information to be inspired by past experiences but whose past? Yours? Mine? Anybody we know? (Oops! They say don’t ask too many questions without offering answers.)

Well, I have no answers but I do have a project idea. If you are reading this and presently grappling with a “they say” that doesn’t serve you, dump it here. Debunk it here. And give me a “What if” or a “So what” … OR, if you have a “they say” that is helping you now (there are a few of those around) feel free to share it here and we’ll give you an “Amen” !

Here’s one to get you started:
They say it is better to give than receive.
What if there were no receivers?
Would it still be better?
Or frustrating?
Or frustratingly better?

Is there a “they say” (or two) floating around in your day-to-day life that you’d like to share or clear out? This is the place to do it …

I don’t care what they say!

If you liked this, then LIKE this and SHARE it!

glean 1. To go over a harvested field and gather by hand any usable parts of the crop that remain   2. To collect information in small amounts over a period of time

gleanings 1. Usable parts of a crop that are left behind in a harvested field and can be gathered in by hand   2. Objects or ideas that have been gathered or amassed over a period of time, especially when they form a collection or comprehensive whole

Ever throw out a tattered dress or shirt with the buttons still on? Or a pair of pants with a “perfectly good” zipper? (Brief audio flashback to my grandmother’s voice.)

Gleanings. There was a time, not so long ago in our history, when those buttons would have been cut off that dress or shirt and any fabric that could be restored to favor got salvaged into great grandma’s next quilt. And lets not forget the rest of the scraps that found favor as rags for household chores.

Leave it to an ephemera junkie to think about gleaning as she sorts through bags of 100 year old buttons and snaps and hooks and eyes  oh my! on a Sunday afternoon.

Gleanings. Clipped off tattered clothing and passed from Ray’s grandmother’s hands to his mother’s to mine.

“What’s the difference between gleaning and hoarding?” I wonder out loud, as I separate buttons into glass jars.

“Purpose.” Responds my right-brained husband, as he prepares a gleaned canvas for his next painting.

Sigh of relief. Well, then that makes us gleaners.

Gleaners. Wait! There’s no such word in either of our dictionaries. Even endangered species get a mention in Webster’s.

Perhaps “gleaners” are part of an invisible culture – a secret, shameful culture spoken of in hushed tones – and gleaning an invisible tradition. I mean, where there is gleaning there is evidence of waste first – and needful purpose second. I remember hearing once that gleaning was outlawed. Was that somewhere in Europe? And, today, many farmers are no longer allowed to gather and save their seeds unless they wish to be sued. (Patents, you know. Kind of makes you want to hoard doesn’t it?)

Oh, and by the way, where gleaning is purpose-generated, hoarding is fear-generated. It is a fine line one crosses over between the two but that is for another post when I am wearing my professional clutter clearing helmet. Right now, I am wearing my artist’s beret.

Then there is gleaning as it relates to definition two and the gathering of information and ideas and beliefs and experience and wisdom …

As I look at this shot of Ray at the canvas, through his grandmother’s gleanings, I can’t help but think about how proud she would be of him and what he has gleaned from all of his life experience and how he forms that into a purposeful, “comprehensive whole.”

And I can’t help but wonder if she will forgive me my impracticality, as my purpose for these buttons is an artistic one. Providing closure of a re-fashioned kind. Artists make great gleaners, by the way. “They drag some of the strangest things home.” says she, in a hushed tone.

Pssst. Any gleaners out there with stories to share? This is the place where your talent and vision for utilizing the un-utilized will be applauded and appreciated!

If you liked this, then LIKE this and SHARE it!

“I toss and turn all night, awash in a sea of aquamarine and green, streaked with silver phosphorescence, drifting through the velvet night from a necklace of meteors. I raft down a river of paint, but unlike Huck Finn, my oar is a paintbrush that struggles to free me from whirlpools of cerulean blue. Then day breaks, and I trudge through a black-and-white world in sensible shoes …” • Loretta Benedetto Marvel from Mermaid Nets and Other Twice-Told Tales

Loretta and I– along with some Vikings, a mermaid, a couple of muses and a curious kitty – shared coffee after I finished writing in my journal this morning.

As some of you know, 2011 is pushing me to return to a more active participation with my art – to get out of my head and off the pages with it. The past number of months I have been gathering myself and my ephemera and creating a place for it to happen.

I am going to attempt something a bit on the raw side with this post. (Hope I don’t lose you.) I don’t often share my morning writings “as is” in this blog but I feel a collaboration coming on with this Loretta who I have never met but whose story sliced into my artist’s heart with the precision of a surgeon. (I found Loretta in the back pages of a mixed-media magazine for artistic discovery. Cloth Paper Scissors, page 92 of the March/April issue to be exact.)

So, here’s the collaboration:
Pieces of my morning pages and Loretta’s story woven together to paint the experience of a Sunday musing. “J” is my journal. “LS” is Loretta’s story. (I hope Loretta and Cloth Paper Scissors will forgive my presumption to post my morning experience with them in this way before asking permission. And that they will be appeased with links and credits.)

Ready? Set? Go!

J: Pulled some runes regarding my journey back into the art studio. Looking at why I am not jumping in. I find myself reflecting back to 1994, just before Ray left me, and my original artist block struggles of that time. It would seem I am now picking up where I left off … Though the medium I am drawn to is vastly improved in its potential for playful expression, I drag my feet. What am I waiting for? More preparation? More ephemera? More inspiration? More time? More energy?

For my chores to be done?

LS: I am used to walking with my head down, checking for cracks in the uneven pavement of daily life.

J: There will always be chores. Chores, the word, is like miscellaneous, the word. As words and categories, they are vast. All consuming.

A vast sea of chores stands between artistic play and me …

LS: I never would have noticed the cottage that day … a tall elderly woman with silver hair appeared in the front door … She stood next to a round mahogany table that held a musty, ancient ledger …

J: A Rune pull? Oh yeah. That’s where I started. First Rune. Where I am now. Warrior. Reversed. Drat. Where I am calls for examining my motives. Trust and confidence are at issue. Am I working through an old belief system about the practicality of being an artist in a world with chores?

LS: “Have you seen her?” She whispered. Before I could answer, she turned to me and shook her head. “No, no; I can see it in your eyes – they are as flat as the sea in August. I know you hear her call.”

J: Second Rune. Action required. Growth. Upright. Disperse resistance. Correct motives. Set the foundation firmly … then blossom.

LS: “You walk with your head down, your pockets filled with shells, and your shoes with sand … and you still haven’t picked up a paintbrush except in your sleep.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, tears stinging my eyes …

J: Third Rune. Outcome based on action. Initiation. Reversed. The old way has come to an end. Call in scattered energies. Inner being is shifting and re-forming on a deep level. Patience. Constancy. Perseverance. Key words. Oh, and lots of humor.

LS: “… I help others to find a mermaid’s net. I’ve left you so many signs over the years! Why don’t you lift your head up? Do you know how much phosphorescence we’ve sent your way?” she asked, grabbing my arm with an iron grip.

… A tide of tears fell from my eyes.

J: But what of today? Today, I will not judge myself or the “chores” set out before me … I will be kind to myself. I will not extend the chore list and try to spend a little time in my art corner. Even if just to read an art magazine.

LS: … she murmured, “I’m sorry. It’s not the life for everyone. Some are too scared they’ll be dragged under. Go if you must, but you will leave the best part of you here.”

So there you have it. Raw and unfinished on the way to where I left one of the “best” parts of me. What about you? Jump on in and share. The water’s fine!

Loretta Benedetto Marvel is a mixed-media artist and writer. Treat yourself and read Loretta’s story in its entirety on page 92 of the magazine, Cloth Paper Scissors, March/April issue. And to see what else Loretta is up to at her website,  click here!

If you liked this, then LIKE this and SHARE it!

When I was little …

I examined my bedroom from my bed – upside down.

I viewed other worlds in the television set – while it was off.

And I especially liked to see how many layers of reflections I could capture in a pane of glass …

Like this reflection of Ray on a Sunday morning while we were talking about why he loves painting chiaroscuro.

“It’s the focus on light. Without the subject’s relationship to light …” and he was off.

With me right on his heals as we talked about the light and THE LIGHT. About art and spirituality.

As the rising sun angled a beam across the living room, I looked over his shoulder and caught this image in the cabinet behind him.

“Don’t move. I’m getting the camera.”

… promising that I was NOT going to shoot his messy Sunday morning mug – directly.

One never knows when the muse will strike. Coffee and camera turned into an hour of play and an idea to play with. More to come on this one.

So, where has YOUR muse struck you lately? In the kitchen? The garden? The studio? They are everywhere you know …

Hey! If you like this, then LIKE it and SHARE it. You never know who could use a musing!

If Juliette’s picture is worth a thousand words, what does that make this music video that JMR Productions Site offers as the next kick?

Every object has a story and every story enlists a response. In my décor therapy workshops, I encourage participants to acknowledge the power of the storyteller in the objects found in their homes.

“What are you ‘buying into’ when you walk through the door? What subliminal messages are you investing energy in and giving power to? Reinforcing ‘happy stories’ within your four walls activates a powerful template that invites and anchors the positive life experiences you yearn for.”

Using this video to reinforce a point NOT to take our “stories” for granted, which JMR Productions Site so beautifully illustrates with a seemingly unimportant piece of bedroom hardware, qualifies as an easy kick in my book. One that the décor therapist in me simply could not pass up. (I’m even thinkin’ this video might be a good workshop opener.)

The photo that inspired this video. “Lost Bed”  by Juliette Mansour

“I’ll light the fire and you place a flower in the vase that you bought today …”

As JMR leads with this song by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, their can-kicking storytelling offers food for thought about the four walls we call home. Hope you enjoy this music video kicked all the way from the Motor City! With creativity like this, who needs wheels?

See JMR Productions Site’s videos by following them on Facebook. Click Here

Or check out their website to see what else they have to offer! Click Here

Kicking The Can: A Creative Collaboration:

Ever play “kick the can” when you were a kid? You’d happen on an abandoned can and before you knew it you were three blocks past your house. Maybe you’d even get lucky and meet a friend or two on your journey. One could travel around the world with a couple of friends and a can …

Missed the post that started this creative collaboration? Start Here

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share us with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!

The creative collaboration continues …

“Ever play “kick the can” when you were a kid? You’d happen on an abandoned can and before you knew it you were three blocks past your house. Maybe you’d even get lucky and meet a friend or two on your journey. One could travel around the world with a couple of friends and a can. That is what we are doing here. Kicking the virtual can …” 

Missed Part 1 of this project? Click Here.

Some pretty wild threads of conversation in The Messy Room’s back room (Facebook’s Inbox) and Juliette’s photo entitled “Random Pastings” inspired this comment from Michele Sevacko …

“… this [inbox] thread has caused me to pause and remember that conversation is also an art … and occurring in many places simultaneously. As it is layered and built on it takes it – and me – to another level.”

Here’s her can, kicked from the woods of North Carolina.

“Random Pastings” photo by Juliette Mansour

Random Pastings and The Art of Conversation
by Michele Sevacko

As I’ve been going about my “busy-ness” and “being-ness” today, I’ve continued to reflect on the idea of conversation as an art – as I see it showing up in responses to emails, phone calls and Facebook posts.

Using Facebook as one example:
I have found that, just as there are artists who paint, take photos or sculpt things that seem so real you just want to step into the scene, there are people who are so “real” in what they are communicating you feel that you’re there with them – although they can easily be on the other side of the globe. These are my “Realists.”

Then, there are the people that relate just the “facts,” who feel it is their duty to keep us informed. There are also the people that only want to know the “facts.” Collectively, they represent my “Cubists” – not because of a similarity to the style of art but because they seem to be stuck in a box/cube and are not willing to venture out and see what else they might experience outside of the “facts.”

Continuing in this vein, I have friends that are “Impressionists.” (And if you’re my “friend,” I can guarantee you have at least one.) These are the people who, through their writing, create the equivalent of “impressionism,” based on their perception. These are the people that really make me think and want to respond with my own impressions – based on my perceptions.

And while I’m sure there are many more analogies that can be made, the last one I’ll share is the people that are into “Abstracts.” Those are the posts that I just sit and stare at, often saying to myself, “I just don’t get this” or, “Man, this looks like too much thinking right now.” It is always interesting to see what people get from these different styles – and offer in response.

I am also reminded that, just as we have to hone our craft and develop our talent, the art of conversation takes practice. When we’re conversing in person we have the advantage of being able to see facial expressions and body language. When we’re on the phone we can hear inflections. However, when we’re typing we have to depend on our words only (along with pictures we may attach) to clearly state what we’re attempting to convey. We can type in CAPS if we want to make a point and we can add *%#@ if we feel the need to cuss – but we really have to depend on the words we use for the overall message.

Because ninety percent of my “spiritual support” is given through the internet or via phone, being aware that I am not just typing or talking – that this is one of my ways of expressing and being creative – is important for me to remember. However, even if that weren’t the case, I would still say that it is in our best interest to remember that no matter what we are saying and no matter to whom that it is still creative expression. And, that that expression is filled with energy and vibrations so it serves us well to be aware of the types of energy and vibrations we’re sending out into the universe.

We each respond differently to art – whether it is visual or auditory. We each have our preferences of style. Some things visually, energetically or vibrationally resonate with us – others don’t. However, because I feel that there are no “accidents,” when something doesn’t initially “grab” my attention I try to remember “judge not by appearances” and respond to the invitation to grow – even just a little. Just as I may look at an abstract painting and not “get it,” if I look long enough I can always find something to relate to whether it is a shape, a color, or a texture. Sometimes a conversation can be the same. Initially, I may just not get it; but I find that if I take the time to really “listen” there are layers – and can usually find something to relate to.

And, that’s what relationships are about. In our relationships, sometimes we are attracted by our similarities and sometimes because we’re very different. One thing we all have in common though is that we are all unique expressions – so, we have a need and desire to express. Each time I take the time to stretch a bit and venture into a space I wouldn’t normally go I learn a little something. It may be about you. It may be about me. But, usually it’s about both of us.

Is that a coincidence? YES!! It is co – incidents. Two – or a hundred and two – people coming together and connecting in this art form called conversation.

To me, the Art of Conversation relates to “Random Pastings” with each piece initially appearing “random” or even insignificant; but ultimately expressing perfection as it takes its place as part of the whole.

Michele Sevacko is an ordained New Thought minister and lives in the Triad area of North Carolina with her husband and 4-legged kids. With a Ph.D. in Philosophy, specializing in Pastoral Counseling, she provides spiritual support services. She is also one of our Visiting Muses.

You can get to know Michele better on this post: Metaphysical Malpractice (a.k.a. what did you do to deserve this?)

Find out more about Rev. Michele Sevacko and her Pastoral Counseling Ministry at her website: CLICK HERE

Follow Michele on Facebook through her alter-ego MettaFizzical A(musings): CLICK HERE

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share The Messy Room with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!

Ever play “kick the can” when you were a kid? You’d happen on an abandoned can and before you knew it you were three blocks past your house. Maybe you’d even get lucky and meet a friend or two on your journey.

One could travel around the world with a couple of friends and a can. And that is what we are doing here. Kicking the virtual can! To follow the can, I have to take you to the time BEFORE the can appeared. It started with a post on ephemera. My Life As Ephemera, actually. The game began with a contribution from Sharron. A mandala that she created from my ephemera shot. And a poem.

I thought, “How delightful! I must share this right away.” But a little voice (you know the one) said, “Wait. There’s more.” So I waited. That’s when the can appeared. Well, really, it was a comment made by Juliette on my second ephemera post, Shoe Boxes & Found Objects, with a link to HER blog where “Voila!” the can appeared.

So, I kicked it. And she kicked it back. Then we sent out a call to see if anyone else wanted to play. (That’s when I discovered The Messy Room has a back room … heheheh … one that I dare not post!)

So, here is the first kick from Sharron Cee in South Carolina:

A Mandala: Created from the shot I used in my post, My Life as Ephemera. According to Sharron:

“Mandala simply means circle. Creating mandalas is common in Native American, Buddhist (especially Tibetan), and other cultures. The Buddhist mandalas are particularly complex with each layer and color placement having a specific meaning. If you haven’t seen the sand mandalas made (and destroyed) by the monks of the Drepung Loseling monastery in Atlanta, it is a worthwhile event. They create beautiful mandalas from colored sand, then destroy them, and scatter the sand in a water place (lake, river, etc). The purpose is to demonstrate the impermanence of all conditioned things.”

Ephemera Mandala by Sharron Cee

And a Poem:

There once was a woman named Bernadette Rose
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
Bright cloth, ribbons, baubles in boxes she kept
Stored in the closet or beneath where she slept
And when she’d a mind to, she’d pull it all out
To play with arrangements and move stuff about
Until from her hands and from out her mind’s eye
Came some beautiful art as the hours flew by
She repurposed this and she repurposed that
(Jewelry, dried flowers, but never a cat)
Hours were spent in this creative pleasure
Repurposed stuff was born into a treasure

Oh there once was a woman named Bernadette Rose
And you’ll find art-filled beauty wherever she goes.

Then here is the second kick from Juliette in Atlanta, Georgia:

“Bernadette, you can find interesting ephemera on the streets! Check out this collection of odd, artistic, far out street stuff on my blog … okay, well some are ephemera anyway!”

Click to see Juliette’s “can kicking” blog

Which led to another kick from me: And Juliette’s agreement to let me follow my muse with a post about her blog and the nature of inspiration.

“Inspiration is unpredictable. That’s what makes it so magical. When it strikes it has that first time freshness – like falling in love – that defies the dull, deadening impulses of …”

Click to read the rest of this post

Which lead to another kick from Sharron: Inspired by the skull shot she saw when she followed my link to Juliette’s blog.

"Skull in the Yard" by Juliette Mansour

Mandala Art by Sharron Cee

And another kick from J.m. Rivas in Michigan: Inspired by our interest in this photo’s possible story on Juliette’s blog. (All of us in the back room agreed this was song material … or perhaps a video …)

"Lost Bed" by Juliette Mansour

A Story:

Reminiscent Ramblings from The INSTA-MATIC Bed Base

I’m older now.
The part we played.
My friends and I came and stayed.
Mattress friend, his box and bed.
Framed relations all shiny and new, snapping together,
holding so true.

Happy we were when the newlyweds came
and took us to home.

Those were the years of constant use
and giggles and laughter and shades of abuse.
Then came the children, Melissa and Roy,
who bounced on us often with glee and with joy.
And the presents at Christmas we hid for them all
under the bed where the dust balls would crawl.

Happy we were when the children came
and tested our strength by bouncing insane.

Soon the newlyweds that we had adored
seemed to grow older and often seemed bored.
Reading a book or using the phone,
watching TV and eating saltines
while we stood our vigilant duty.
Holding up lives from falling to floor.

Happy we were to provide all this service. Never we asked
for anything more

But alas, what we learned is time changes all.
The mattress got saggy, the frame bent to fall.
My brother base holders broke to the weight
and soon the floor claimed us.
We realized our fate.
Now, I stand here before you alone on this table
waiting for someone who’s willing and able to
find me a place,
find a new purpose.
Praying hopefully,
maybe
there’s life after service?

Happy I was to have lived in a home
where the laughter was plenty …

Visit muse Rivas at JMR Productions site by clicking here

And yet another kick from Shellie Enteen in South Carolina:

Juliette's Pabst Blue

Kicking the Can

The draft beers of Britain are round
and friendly, caramel colored and soft
on the tongue.

The dark robust Irish brew, Guinness,
surprisingly sour under creamy top,
filled with iron, good for women
on their moon.

The fizzy, tinny can the US settles for
offers no redemption, cuts into the buzz,
sharper still when left, half full, sitting
in the sun.

Do not return.

Read more of Shellie’s work at Shellie Writes

As I wrap up the first post of what I hope will be more, I am DELIGHTED to witness and be part of this creative flow. The generosity of these muses who share their creativity so freely and spontaneously inspires me. And I hope it does you too!

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share
The Messy Room with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!