Fruits of My Courage and Trust

First Owl – Photo: L.Weikel

The other night I entitled my blog post “Phoning It In.” At the time I wrote it, I was beyond tired, and it felt like anything I might write would be rote and vapid.

But as soon as I started writing, I knew the post wouldn’t be boring or average. (Short, yes. But that’s because it was after 4:00 a.m. when I started writing it.) I’ll admit it: I was giddy.

I was buzzing – literally – from giving myself permission to try something new and just diving right in. As I described in that post, I was sorta kinda pressured into trusting my friend Luz. She swore up and down that I could create a painting I’d be excited about – and she could show me how, if I would only trust her. If I would show a little courage and just immerse myself in the experience.

Immersion Theory

If I really think about it, it was this immersion in the experience that really juiced me. And what’s also intriguing is the connection between what I’ve taught Luz and what she taught me: I do believe that the skills I’ve honed in learning how to journey, as well as the further practice of cultivating the ability to take notes during my process of straddling the worlds, have cultivated my ability to immerse myself in a task.

The process of journeying takes a great deal of focus and attention – especially when receiving a lot of specific information or guidance. And I’ve found through the years that if I doubt, if a significant enough portion of my consciousness stands outside of the work, observing with arms folded and skepticism (and doubt) coloring my experience, my perceptions and ability to receive and process information from other realms is seriously compromised.

As Above So Below

Or in other words, trusting myself and just surrendering to the experience almost assuredly makes any such experience itself exponentially richer. As a result, I figured, “What the heck?” I could feel it. I needed to either be ‘all in’ or not do it at all. That’s because I could very easily have allowed a huge part of myself to stand slightly aside as I painted, with arms folded and ego fully engaged, criticizing and worrying about every single stroke I made on the canvas. And I knew, I could feel, that would buckle my ability to create.

But Luz had asked me to trust her, to trust her process – a process she’s developed and practiced herself for several years. So it was only fair.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve asked Luz to trust me many times. To trust my description of the process of journeying and to trust her ability to see, receive, and perceive other realms.

So I went ‘all in.’ As she assured me over and over, “Lisa, you can always paint over it and start again. Don’t over-think it.”

“Just go for it.”

So I did.

Beginner’s Luck

My very first creation was “First Owl,” above. I could barely believe my eyes.

My second creation, below, I call BearWolf, perhaps for obvious reasons, depending upon your perspective, perhaps not. While I don’t feel it’s nearly as amazing as First Owl (which I still attribute a bit – OK, a lot – to ‘Beginner’s Luck,’ much to Luz’s annoyance), it’s still a piece I will enthusiastically hang in my office.