beyondo me?

i’ve been doing mondo beyondo, ‘an online class for dreaming BIG,’ by the amazingly dynamic and talented Andrea Scher and Jen Lemen, for the last four weeks. i did it last year, in january. it moved some things around in me but it didn’t propel me straight into the center of a dream life. that’s okay. other things happened. and life isn’t always neat like the perfect bow but more like my sneakers that come untied over and over or form a lopsided half-bow, one string hanging off to the side or a tough knot that breaks my nails when i try to undo it.

i’ve been reading the daily lessons, doing the assignments, practicing the art of who knows and what ifs and why nots because the art of living in possibility is like anything else, a practice, a muscle that needs consistent strengthening.

this morning’s entry told the story of a jen’s dad, a man who never stopped believing in his dreams even though the outer world brought disappointment, unexpected delays and obstruction. he was creatively resilient and optimistic, connected to his imagination, his ever-percolating mind. i loved the image of him she painted, in the back yard with a cigarette, scribbling ideas and numbers on napkins. it was romantic and inspiring like all the lessons in Mondo Beyondo. inspiring and yet, a tiny bit worrisome.

see, even as i log on and read, do the exercises and assignments, dare to write my mondo beyondo list, even as i absolutely believe in the power of dreaming, in unearthing and nurturing our deepest desires that may or may not make sense or seem out of reach, i’ve been wondering lately if the mondo beyondo is not for me but for others, others who have something i lost or something i lack, something i never had the courage to reach out and hold and so therefore missed out on. i don’t walk around with this beating me down but rather notice it from time to time like a mist in the corner of my eye, obscuring the distant view.

a few weeks ago, i became aware of a desire to draw. and i listened.

i found myself at the computer, messing around with photoshop, a program i barely know. i was using my mouse as a pen. it was clunky and odd being but also interesting and risk-free. i could cut and paste and undo and erase, turn everything black, green, pink, back to white, scrap the whole thing, start again. i’ve drawn here and there over the years, little spasms of lines and color and then spent years and years not lifting pencil to paper. over the past few days, i’ve done a handful of drawings and just yesterday, i found myself fantasizing about turning the guest room into a studio for making art.

it doesn’t necessarily make sense but the image of being under the skylight drawing and painting in my bare feet delights me so i’m letting it simmer, seeing where it takes me.

this morning, i sent a few of the drawings to my sister, a kindred spirit. we’ve long talked about our unexpressed selves, our creative urgings and creative stuckness, our worries and perplexions about how to bring more of our authentic selves to the world. we’ve gone over the whys, the places where we weren’t given what we needed as kids or teenagers or adults, the messages we took in about what was possible or practical, the ways we’ve walked inside the confines of these limiting views. i, for one, know this has absolutely informed the urgency i feel about growing a feeling of competence, able-ness, in fluffy. if there’s one thing i want to do in this life, it’s to communicate to him through my words and day to day life, that anything is possible. the only way to do that is to be engage in the lively exercise of learning that myself, no matter my age or my training.

my sister wrote back and said, listen, this looks like fabric design to me. let’s start a business! together! somehow! let’s do it!

i wrote back, YES!

we don’t know what’s next or how but we are committed to saying Yes and seeing where it takes us. i’m not sure how it fits in with writing or making a living and i certainly don’t know or want to think about how practical it is. i just want to follow this impulse and see where it takes me.

maybe mondo beyondo is not beyondo me?

self-portrait; april, 2011

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